At the Home and Hearth real-estate office, the physical inspection report on the house that would soon be Eliza’s sat on Louise’s desk. The house inspector had concluded in his twenty-page summary that the forty-year-old colonial was in sound condition, though there were two slight cracks in a retaining wall at the rear of the property and many of the slates on the roof needed to be replaced. The bathroom fixtures were those originally installed and all of the appliances in the kitchen were older. There was one “plus,” however: the hot-water heater was brand-new.
Louise was sure that nothing in the report would deter Eliza from buying the house. Eliza had seen for herself that the house was tired and ached for the vitality and energy of a new owner. Four decades ago, when the Richardses had moved into their brand-new HoHoKus home, Bergen County had been a much simpler place. The house had been expensive even then by the standards of the time, but people did not expect the bells and whistles demanded by buyers of premium real estate today. The Richardses had done virtually nothing to update the interior of their home. But they had done a top-of-the-line job when they added their swimming pool, hot tub and cabana. Louise found that a bit strange, but quickly shrugged it off. Selling real estate provided a window on some of the most intimate parts of people’s lives. She had seen plenty of bizarre behavior and lifestyles. The disparity between the inside and the outside of the Richardses’ home was nothing.
Loading the report into the fax machine, Louise was punching the numbers to Eliza’s office on the keypad when Vivienne Dusart, the listing agent, walked by.
“Everything holding together?” she asked.
Louise nodded with certainty. “Yes. The physical report came back basically clean. I’m faxing it to Eliza now. We’re lucky, Viv. Eliza isn’t going to nickel-and-dime over the state of things in the house. Those bathrooms and the kitchen are ancient. We both know that most buyers in this price category want a lot more glitz.”
“Hey, she’s buying the location,” Vivienne shrugged matter-of-factly. “It’s a shame, but she’s got to pay.” She started to walk away.
Vivienne was right.
“At least it’s nice that she’ll have a new hot-water heater.”
The agent stopped and turned to stare at her. “That’s not funny, Louise.”
Puzzled by her friend’s response, Louise looked at her alertly.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re kidding, right? You know what happened there. It was in the newspaper.”
“Obviously I don’t know what you’re talking about, Viv. Cut to the chase.”
‘There was a faulty gas valve on the old hot-water heater. Mr. and Mrs. Richards died of carbon-monoxide poisoning. You better tell your buyer right away, Louise. You don’t want her suing you for lack of disclosure later.” Vivienne patted Louise on the shoulder. “If she wants out, let me know. I have someone else interested in the house.”