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“Like I said, it can be fun. You get to know the group of people you hang with and they become a lot like family. Plus, history is important. It’s one of the reasons I came back to this area. There’s so many historic buildings around that just need someone to put a little time, love, and cash into them. After Austin’s project, I’m almost at the place that I can invest in something and have a restoration project.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin with something like that. I guess you have contacts for all the contractors you’d need, being an architect.”
“Sure. Although I don’t imagine I’ll job out much of the work. I like to get my hands dirty.” Jenna shifted in her seat. “I did a lot of construction while I was in school. It’s a great way to earn some extra money. Bonus, I understand what goes into making architectural dreams a reality.”
“Huh.” I looked down at the takeout container and flipped the lid closed. I hadn’t finished, but it was close enough. I was full. And maybe later the girls would want to send someone out for ice cream. I’d noticed the shop down the street a bit had their strawberry cheesecake this week. They didn’t always, but when they did, I made a point of getting a scoop.
“Not handy?”
“I mean, I can change a lightbulb and the furnace filters.”
Jenna laughed.
“I know someone who has a handyman out for those, don’t laugh.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded.
“Man. What a racket.” Jenna shook her head.
“So your restoration project. You have something in mind? Or are you waiting to look until you have the cash?” It was such an utterly foreign idea to me, I was curious. “How does that even work?”
“Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Dealer’s choice.” I set my salad on the floor and got more comfortable.
Jenna thought for a moment. “I don’t have any place concrete in mind yet. I have a filter saved on several of the real estate apps, and I check every couple of days for new listings. There’s a great one here in Old Town, but it’s way outside what I can afford.”
“Which one?” The townhouse I lived in—that Austin had ended up buying from my grandma—was historic. On a street with other historic townhomes. Not that you had to go far to find something classed historic when you were talking about Old Town. Still, I couldn’t quite dredge up any for-sale signs in my memory of walking around the neighborhood lately.
“The Potts-Fitzhugh-Lee House.” Jenna grinned. “It’s got a name, which I love. It was built in 1795, then somewhere along the line it got split into two residences but now it’s back to one. The pictures online…” She shook her head and sighed. “I’d love to get my hands on it.”
“What are they asking?”
“Over five mil. So there’s no way. I can probably swing two, but I’d rather keep it lower so I have more to put into the restoration. So I’m looking further out, too. I don’t really want to live in the country, but I could handle it while I did a restoration. But then I have to sell and look for something else, and I’d really love my first project to be a home. I’m tired of apartment living.”
I nodded. I was definitely blessed not to have to deal with that. I still felt guilty that I was living in the townhouse and Austin and Kayla were in her apartment. They assured me they didn’t care—that it kept Kayla from having to break her lease and they were closer to the learning center—but I didn’t fully buy it.
“You should come see my place sometime. Well, technically it’s Austin’s—he owns it—but I’m living there. Grandma bought it then sold it to him. Point being, it’s historic. The whole street is, practically. I’ll keep an eye out for anything that comes up for sale if you want.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Jenna and I both looked over when the bell on the door jingled.
I stood. “Good evening. Can I help you?”
The woman, teenager in tow, brightened at my greeting. She nodded toward the boy sulking at her elbow. “He has to readThe Scarlet Letterby Monday and failed to mention it when getting it from the library was an option. I’m hoping you might have a copy.”
I fought a grin and nodded. “Of course. Right over here.”
I led the pair to the right bookshelf and tugged out a copy. I offered it to the mom. “Is there a paper or a project, too? Or you just have to read it?”
The mom looked at her son.
He hunched his shoulders even more and muttered, “I have to write an essay exploring themes.”
I looked at the mom. She looked defeated. “Essay’s due Monday?”
