Every House Has a Secret – 2

 

 

"Why do I think you planned this whole discussion ahead of time, down to moaning about not enough bookshelf space?" Brady asked.

 

"Because you know me."

 

"Very well," Brady replied softly. "Well enough I've stuck around."

 

Rand snorted. "If sticking around means you married me, I guess you did."

 

"The best decision of my life," Brady said, kissing him. "Okay, young man, let's see if there's anything we can afford on your salary and what I bring in. Hopefully something that won't fall down around our ears before we make the first mortgage payment."

 

"That would be a good idea," Rand replied. He went to the desk in one corner of the living room, returning with his laptop. Once he was online, he did a search for 'fixer-uppers'.

 

"More than I expected," Brady said when a realty website came up.

 

As Rand scrolled though the options they saw that at least half would require an almost total rebuild. "Why don't they knock them down and sell the land?" Rand asked.

 

"I have no clue." Brady tapped one picture on the list. "At least this one has four walls and roof that look like they're in decent shape."

 

Rand brought up the information so they could see the interior. "Decent sized rooms, but who was their decorator? The designer of the Grand Guignol?"

 

He had a point. The walls in the main rooms were painted red and black, and the floors were also black. On the second floor, the two bedrooms were midnight blue, with carpeting that had once been black but was now faded in places to a dull gray.

 

"Hippy joint in its last incarnation, would be my bet," Brady replied.

 

"Naw. They'd have done it in fluorescent greens and pinks and yellows, which would have been just a bad. I think we can eliminate this one."

 

"No kidding."

 

They continued looking, bookmarking ones that had at least some semblance of possibilities. When they were finished, they had a list of seven houses within their price range which they figured they could redo on their own with minimal help from a contractor unless one was absolutely necessary.

 

They called the various realtors to set up appointments to see them, and then spent their evenings for the following week looking at them—except on the night when Rand was at the city council meeting, taking notes for story he was writing for the Weekly Register, the newspaper where he worked. Finally, they narrowed it down to two choices.