Page 84 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“The contractors said it was a gut job,” I remind him. “They said the electrical needs to be completely redone, the plumbing is shot, and there’s water damage everywhere.”
Adam straightens up from examining the sink’s pipes. “They’re not entirely wrong, but they’re not entirely right either. Yes, the electrical needs updating, and yes, there are plumbing issues. But a complete gut?” He shakes his head firmly. “No way. That would be a crime against this house.”
“You sound pretty confident for someone who’s only been here twenty minutes,” I say, skepticism creeping into my voice despite the hope his words are kindling.
“I’ve been building and renovating houses for years, Caitlin. I know what I’m looking at.” His voice is quiet but certain. “The bones of this place are solid. The foundation looks to be in goodshape. The roof isn’t perfect, but it’s not actively leaking. The problems are fixable.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying those contractors were looking to make a big payday.” He moves to the window, running his thumb along the sill. “They saw an old house and dollar signs. They didn’t see what was worth saving.”
“And you do?”
“I do.” He turns to face me, his expression both earnest and determined. It reminds me of the Adam I fell in love with in Colorado. The one who saw possibilities where others saw problems. “Give me some time with the reports, and I’ll put together a real assessment. But from what I’ve seen so far, this house doesn’t need to be gutted. It needs to be restored.”
The word settles in my chest like a warm stone. Restored. Not torn apart and rebuilt, but brought back to what it once was.
“Should we look outside?” I suggest pushing past the uncomfortable mix of hope and wariness his words have stirred up.
Outside, Adam is just as thorough, checking the siding, even climbing a ladder someone left leaning against the garage to get a better look at the roof.
We end up at the back of the house, where my grandmother’s vegetable garden used to be. “What’s that?” Adam asks, pointing at a shed that seems to be more leaning than upright.
“Huh? Oh, that’s where Grandma kept her gardening supplies,” I tell him, turning to look at the old shed. “I doubt anyone’s been in there for ages. Doesn’t look structurally sound.”
“Only one way to find out.” He heads down the overgrown path, and I follow.
The shed door creaks as I push it open, dust motes dancing in the shaft of sunlight that cuts through the dimness. Adam stepsin beside me, and we both freeze at a rustling sound from the back corner.
“What was that?” I whisper instinctively, moving closer to him.
“Not sure.” He peers into the shadows. “Some animal might have gotten in.”
The rustling comes again, followed by a soft, inquisitive “meow.”
“Is that a cat?” Adam takes a cautious step forward.
Two luminous green eyes appear in the darkness, followed by a small black face framed by long, matted fur. The cat regards us warily, then rises from its nest of old rags, stretching with deliberate nonchalance.
“It is a cat,” I confirm, crouching down and extending my hand. “Hey there, little guy. Or girl. Hard to tell with all that fur.”
The cat hesitates, then approaches, tail held high. It sniffs my fingers, then bumps its head against my hand, a surprising display of friendliness for an animal that looks feral.
“There’s one sure way to check.” Adam reaches toward the cat, who immediately backs away, ears flattening.
“She doesn’t seem to like you,” I observe, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
“She probably just hasn’t been around people in a while.” He tries again, and this time the cat allows him to pick it up, though it looks distinctly unhappy about the arrangement.
Adam carefully checks under the tail. “Definitely a girl,” he confirms, setting the cat back down. She immediately returns to me, rubbing against my legs and purring loudly.
“See? I told you.” I scoop her up, surprised at how light she feels. Underneath the tangled fur, she is very thin, and one ear has a small tear in it, but her eyes are clear and bright. “She’s been living rough for a while, I think.”
“She seems to have decided you’re her person,” Adam observes as the cat settles into my arms, purring even louder. “Though I’m pretty sure she’s glaring at me.”
I glance down at the cat, who is indeed eyeing Adam with what appears to be deep suspicion. “That just shows she’s a very intelligent animal,” I say, unable to resist the small dig.
Adam laughs, a genuine sound that sets butterflies loose in my stomach. “Ouch. Fair, but ouch.”
