her open the door, but she left the chain on. “It’s not on the market,” she said.
A man in his mid-forties, with reddish hair, wire frames, and a narrow build, stood a few feet away, wearing a button-down shirt and crisp khaki pants, writing something on a card.
“I’m giving you my office and cell numbers on here.” He smiled at her and pushed back his glasses with his wrist, where lines of black ink peeked out from his cuff. Surprising for a guy who looked like an accountant. “I really hate to be this bold, walking up to the door and ringing the bell like a loon, but…God, I want this house.”
A thread of something curled through her, a feeling she couldn’t quite describe. Not jealousy, exactly. Not pride. Not resentment. But a bit of all three. “It’s a wonderful house,” she agreed. And whoever got to live in it would be very lucky.
He lowered the card and pen, and his shoulders sank. “You’re not going to sell it, are you.” It wasn’t a question, and his disappointment was clear. “I figured it was a crazy dream.”
“Actually, we might. Hang on.” Someone in love with the house might pay top dollar when the time came—and with all that had to be done to bring it up to date, that could be a blessing for her parents. Mom would want to at least get a read on the guy. If they sold it without a realtor, it would be easy and fast, when the time came. Better for people living in the Caribbean, for sure.
With all that rationalization and the fact that the man seemed sincere and was not the least bit threatening, she closed the door, slid the chain, and then reopened it to have a proper conversation. “I’m Evie Hewitt,” she said, extending her hand. “My grandfather is Max.”
“James Bell.” His fingers were cold, his grip strong. “Will you be managing his estate?”
She flinched at that. “He’s very much alive and sleeping upstairs.”
“Oh, sorry. God.” He shook his head and pushed at those glasses again. “I know that. I do. I’ve done a little digging around town. In fact, I used to live near here, but now I’m in Charlotte.”
“And you’re looking to buy a house in Bitter Bark?”
“I run my own consulting business and can work anywhere. Truth is, my fiancée and I have driven by here a million times, and she’s nuts about this place, too.” He let out a little sigh and added a goofy smile. “I want to give her the house as a wedding present. I happened to be nearby on business today and thought I’d give this a try. I know, knocking on the door and asking to buy a house is a little strange, but if I get it, I want it to be a surprise for Jenny. I mean, assuming…if there’s any chance…if you sell.”
His nervousness was a little endearing, along with his story. “Well, we’re not selling yet, Mr. Bell. We likely won’t before your wedding.”
“Please, call me Jim.” He handed her his card. “And we can wait on the wedding. In fact…” He let out a sigh. “The house might be the very thing to make my hard-to-pin-down lady finally set a date.”
“Oh, I see.”
He laughed nervously. “I’m babbling, ma’am, and I’m sure you’re not interested in my story. But this is the closest I’ve ever gotten…” He inched to one side to look past her into the house, closing his eyes with a grunt. “And of course the stairs are red. Exactly like we imagined.”
Well, she wasn’t going to invite him in, no matter how sweet his story or how much he hinted at it. Not to mention how sad it would make Granddaddy to know they were even talking about selling.
“I’ll keep your card, Mr. Bell. If and when we’re ready to put it on the market, I’ll call you.”
“Could I make an appointment to see it sometime? Not now, obviously. I would never be that rude. But sometime?”
“Let me think about it.”
“All right, and while you’re at it, turn over that card and think about that number. Please consider it a starting offer.”
She glanced down.
“Go ahead, take a look. I want you to know I’m serious.”
She flipped the card and stared at the seven-digit number. “Oh…” She barely breathed the word.
“I’m interested in the furnishings, too. Any and all that you’d leave. I’ll take everything as is.”
Which would thrill her mother.
“I want the house, ma’am.”
He certainly