got a floor."
"And a good foundation, a nice-sized lot."
"That looks like a minefield. Probably booby-trapped by the atomic spiders."
"New sod," she continued, undaunted, "some plantings, a pretty little deck on the back. Gut the bathroom."
"Wouldn't it be more humane to bomb it?"
"New tub, new sink, a nice ceramic tile. For a room that size, I could probably find enough of a discontinued style, neutral color. All the carpet goes. Replace the closet doors, add shelves. Redo the ceilings, paint. You've got a couple of nice kids' rooms."
"And where would the parents sleep?" He slid his hands into his pockets rather than risk accidentally touching something. "In a hotel if they have any sense."
She crooked her finger. "This wall moves out fifteen feet."
"It does?"
"It will and, running the width of the house, will hold the master suite, overlooking the backyard. Walk-in closet, attached bath with soaking tub and separate shower. Double sinks, granite countertop. Maybe slate tile. Have to price that out."
"What holds it up? Hopes and dreams?"
"The new kitchen/great room."
"Oh, that." But oddly enough, he began to see it as she did. Or as he thought she did.
"Horrible carpet treads out, oak treads in," she said as she started down the steps. "Replace skinny banister. Carpet goes, ceilings redone, new trim, some crown molding. New windows throughout. Gut kitchen."
"Thank the Lord."
"Half bath and laundry room here. Kitchen, dining area and family room, open floor plan, breakfast bar for the casual, family meal, all leading out through atrium doors to the nice little deck. Exterior paint in a cheerful color, replace the cracked concrete walkway with pavers, plug in some plants, a little dogwood tree. And that's about it."
"Oh, well, that's hardly anything."
She laughed. "It's a lot, but it'll be a lot. Poor, sad thing. Sixteen weeks. It could be done in twelve, but not with juggling, so I'd say sixteen. With the top offer I'd make and materials and labor, mortgage payments for, we'll say, five months, and the market value after improvements in this neighborhood, you could see between forty and forty-five K in profit."
"Seriously?"
"Oh yeah. Depending on the market when it's done, that could be closer to sixty thousand. The neighborhood's on an upswing." She began ticking items off on her fingers. "Younger couples, small families moving in, prettying things up. It's in a good school district, only about ten minutes from a shopping center. Master suites, kitchens and baths- that's where the sales are made and you get your biggest return on your investment."
"Okay."
"No, you have to be sure. Take a little time to think about it. I'll draw up some floor plans."
"No, I'm sold. Let's go make Vicky's day." And get the hell out while the cockroaches and spiders have their moratorium.
"Wait, wait. We need to let her suffer more. You're going to steal this place, Ford." He found the sly delight on her face infectious. "It deserves to be stolen because the seller couldn't even be bothered to make an attempt. We're going to tell her, very unconvincingly, that we'll think about it. Then we're going to walk away. In a week, ten days, I'll call her back."
"If somebody buys it in the meantime?"
"When it's been sitting here for over four months, even with two price reductions? I don't think so. We're going to go give Vicky the disappointment she's expecting. Then I want to go home, soak in your hot tub and relax."
RELAXING PROVED PROBLEMATIC because of the half-dozen reporters camped at her wall.
"Not much interest, you said?"
"This is nothing." And hardly more than she'd expected. "Just a spillover from the statement. They'll mostly be local, or out of D.C., maybe. We're close enough for that. You go inside. I'll handle it."
"You're going to give them interviews?"
"Not exactly. A few crumbs. They'll take the crumbs and fly away. There's no reason for you to be involved in this. And you'll just give them another angle."
But the minute they stepped out of the car, cameras lifted. Like one entity, reporters surged across the road, shouting Cilla's name, calling out questions. As it struck Ford as a kind of attack, he moved instinctively to Cilla's side.
"Georgia Vassar, WMWA-TV. Can you tell us your thoughts on the altercation yesterday with James Robert Hennessy?"
"How serious are your injuries?"
"Is it true Hennessy believes you're the reincarnation of Janet Hardy?"
"I've already issued a statement about the incident," Cilla said coolly. "I don't have any more to say."
"Isn't it true that Hennessy threatened you previously? And, in fact, assaulted Steve Chensky,