Page 38 of Threads of Kindness
“Let’s start on the second floor.” Tim moved to the partition that obscured the stairway. Once again, he handed small flashlights to each of them. “The attorney said they also removed the refrigerator up there. The door had been left open, and it had become a rodent hotel.”
“Oh gosh.” Anita pressed a hand to her chest. “That’s so revolting. I’m glad they got rid of it.”
They climbed the stairs, Jeff lagging behind to assess the integrity of the handrails and the soundness of each step.
The cleared second-floor space revealed a six-foot section of kitchen cabinets along one wall. The door to the bathroom on the opposite wall stood open. They each stepped into the small room that included a porcelain pedestal sink, a toilet, and a tiny cast-iron bathtub. A medicine cabinet, its door askew on its hinges, hung above the sink.
“I thought there’d be a sink in those cabinets,” Anita pointed to them. “Since Charlotte lived up here, I’m assuming that was her kitchen.”
“She must’ve done her dishes in the bathtub,” Sam said. “People did that sort of thing in the old days.”
“I can hardly imagine,” said Anita. “Charlotte ran that candy store until she was in her mid-nineties. I hate to think of her going up and down those stairs at that age—and doing dishes in the tub.”
“I knew Charlotte longer than you did,” Sam said. “A more independent person you’ve never met. She lived how she wanted and wouldn’t have welcomed charity—or pity—from anyone.”
Anita nodded. “That’s comforting. I hate the idea of buying a place where someone was unhappy.”
“You won’t be,” Sam assured her.
Jeff joined them, having completed his inspection of the stairs. “Everything appears to be structurally sound,” he said, “but, like the flooring below, the stairs will need to berefinished.” He looked down. “This floor is in even worse shape than downstairs.”
Sam pointed to the ceiling. “Gordon was right. There’s water damage on the ceiling and along the outside wall. The plaster on the wall is dark. That has to be mold.”
“I agree,” Jeff said. “It’ll have to be torn out, and either replastered or replaced with drywall.” He looked at Anita. “Plaster will be more expensive. You’ll save money by using drywall.”
“If you install display cases along that wall, no one will know what’s behind them,” Sam added.
“That’s a good way to save money,” Anita agreed. She took a deep breath. “We know I’ll need to replace the roof, refinish the floors, remediate mold, and replace the wall up here.”
“I’d plan on replacing the wall on both floors,” Sam said.
“I want to remodel that bathroom,” Anita said, “so it can function as a public restroom. It feels unhygienic now.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “Will you install an accessible public restroom on the first floor, too?”
“Yes,” Anita said. “And I’d like to rip out the dumbwaiter and put in an elevator.”
Sam and Jeff took measurements of the existing dumbwaiter at the second-floor opening.
“That’ll work,” Sam said. “We’ll add that to our list.”
“What else?” Anita asked.
“The seller hasn’t turned the utilities back on, so we can’t test anything, but I would replace the electric knob and tube wiring,” Tim said.
“The heater and air conditioner are probably decades old, too,” Jeff said. “If they are, you’ll want new units.”
“Wow,” Anita said. “It feels like we’re going to be taking the place down to the studs and redoing everything.” She looked from Jeff to Sam, her expression glum.
“It’s always best to do things right from the get-go,” Sam said. “You’ll probably need new plumbing and a new sewer system.”
“By the time we’re done, my offer will be less than half the asking price,” Anita said. She looked at Tim. “Do you think there’s any chance they’ll accept that? Is there any point in going forward?”
Tim rested a hand between her shoulders. “If I didn’t think there was a good chance we’d be successful, we wouldn’t be here.”
“But you warned me things might not work out,” Anita said.
“I did,” Tim replied. “But only because I don’t want you to overpay.”
