Page 27 of The Library of Second Chances
“I thought a walk around town might give us some new ideas for the waterfront.” He shrugged as if he had nothing but innocent intentions.
Gladys nodded, her face growing more serious. “It’s such an important project. Did you know the land that runs along the waterfront used to be nothing but giant stacks of lumber? Timber was plentiful here, and it was easy for the early settlers to extract and ship to distant ports.”
“The buildings on Main Street were all built from heart pine in the 1820s when the Spanish first took control of the island from the French.” Lucy recited what she’d been taught about the town’s founding as the three began walking south down the sidewalk back toward her store.
“The only problem was that having all that wood downtown made it like a giant pile of kindling. A lightning strike took out a large portion of the original buildings in the 1850s, and thenthe Union Army started a fire in the rail depot that used to sit downtown, and it took out many of the remaining buildings in the early 1860s.”
“That’s right.” Gladys nodded, smiling like a teacher who was proud of her star pupil.
Gladys stopped as she approached the corner of Third and Main in front of the Kittredge Building, which housed a small shop on the ground floor that sold homemade candles, soaps, and a variety of decorative goods.
“This is a good shop if you need to buy a gift for your mother or a sister. Or perhaps a sweetheart?” Gladys raised an eyebrow in Logan’s direction before cutting her eyes toward Lucy.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.
His face revealed nothing about his current relationship status, and Lucy couldn’t imagine what sort of woman Logan might be interested in. He was hard to read. At first, she’d thought he probably lived in a high-rise with a doorman and a stark modern design. But after hearing he had grown up in a small Midwestern town and minored in historic preservation she was less certain. Possibly even intrigued.
“That brings us to Lucy’s building.” Gladys stopped as they approached. “It’s one of the finest examples we have of the Italianate influences on many of the structures built just after the last big fire. You can see it in the arched doorways and windows and the decorative brickwork up on the cornices.” She pointed up.
“It’s a beauty, that’s for sure.” Logan stepped back so he could take in more of the building, and Lucy caught herself studying how his jaw twitched when he was deep in thought and had to force her eyes up to the cornices.
“You really should go in sometime. The hand-carved heart pine is just magnificent going up the staircase. You’ve got the clothing boutique here on this corner and, of course, Lucy’sstore sits on the other end. In the middle”—Gladys pointed at a nondescript door—“there’s a staircase that goes up to the second-floor offices. The woodwork in this building is simply divine. Have you seen the bookshelves in Lucy’s shop?”
“Yes, just today. They looked like heart pine as well.”
“They date back to the late 1800s when Annie’s—the last owner, bless her, may she rest in peace—grandfather opened the town’s first bookstore. The shelves, the floors, the ceiling, it’s all original.” The pride in Gladys’s voice and on her face would make anyone thinkherfamily was responsible for the preservation.
“It’s a really remarkable building.” Logan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the decorative brickwork on the cornices above them.
“And for sale, apparently.” Gladys clucked her tongue. “I always worry when one of the original ones goes up for sale. You never know who might swoop in to buy it or what they’ll do with it. As you know, historic protection only extends so far. At the end of the day, it’s still private property, and owners do what they will with it.”
Lucy bit her lip. She’d tried to look into buying the building, but the whole process had been overwhelming. It wasn’t like buying a house. The bank wanted a business plan that accounted for the reserves necessary to keep up a building of this age for decades to come, and they’d wanted her beach cottage as additional collateral since she’d never owned commercial property or been a landlord.
She hadn’t officially withdrawn her application, but she couldn’t imagine having the time to work on that and the waterfront development and in her store. Part of her still really wanted to get the building back in local hands. The current owner was an out-of-town investor. He’d been interested in the lucrative historic preservation tax credits available when the building needed major renovations in the nineties, but he wasready to move it out of his portfolio before it required more updates.
Lucy felt Logan’s eyes on her as if he was waiting for her to say something. He couldn’t know she’d been interested in the building herself. Still, she had an odd sense that he knew something. She fidgeted with the anchor charm on her necklace as she turned back to Gladys.
“I’m sure we’ll get another great owner.”
“Yes, dear. I hope so.” Gladys smiled at her sweetly.
Lucy couldn’t imagine how much change Gladys must have seen during her lifetime here on Heron Isle. Lucy would ask her later about her thoughts on the waterfront. She didn’t want to do it in front of Logan and give him the chance to sway her with his dimpled smile and smooth talking.
They moved on to the post office before walking to the top of the square and crossing to the other side. As they went from building to building, Logan asked thoughtful questions and remarked on tiny details hardly anyone ever noticed. It was clear he’d taken his minor in historic preservation seriously. So why this choice of career? It sounded like he’d been involved in a lot more development than preservation, but maybe she didn’t have the whole story. She’d have to do some digging later.
As they crossed over East Fifth Street, Gladys pointed to a two-story Victorian a few doors down. “The Foundation is looking to buy that one to preserve, but we’re a long way from our fundraising goal.”
Lucy hadn’t walked down that way in months, but she knew the place. The Hill House was one of the rare properties downtown that was unkempt. The owner had passed away several years ago and his next of kin had fought over the estate ever since because he hadn’t had a will. The city sent someone to mow the yard and pull the weeds every month after sending numerous letters threatening fines for violating ordinances inthe historic district and receiving no reply. The man’s nieces and nephews were all fighting over who should buy out whose share of the house, but none of them seemed to have any interest in coming to town to take care of it.
“I do hope it falls into the right hands.” Lucy followed Gladys and Logan down the sidewalk to get a closer look.
“Do you ever wonder if an old building like this has a soul? Almost like it’s a living, breathing being?”
Logan was looking up at the house with such adoration that Lucy couldn’t peel her eyes away even to follow his gaze to what had caught his attention. His green eyes were studying the porch carefully, as if it was something he wanted to reach out and touch, but was holding himself back from doing.
He was looking at it with more longing than Carter had ever looked ather, and something inside her wished Logan was looking at her that way. Which was, of course, preposterous. Logan was off limits. He was her opposition, and hopefully he’d be heading back to some big city as soon as she convinced the town to do something worthwhile with the waterfront.
“Do you see that gingerbread detailing?” He pointed toward the porch. “Someone had to have not only the patience, but also the artistic skill, to carve it all by hand. They were an artist every bit as much as Monet or Renoir, but no one signs a porch or gets to see it hang in a museum one day. Most people just walk right by and say, ‘Oh, what a pretty house,’ and keep on walking.” He shook his head as if those people were completely dense. “No one makes anything like that by hand anymore. They just throw up some spindles under the railing and call it a day.”
