Patricia Boudreau climbed from the cab of the pickup truck, letting out a soft oomph when her feet hit the ground. Most of the time she didn’t mind being on the short side, but when your sons and your husband are relative giants in comparison, it made things difficult when she had to borrow a vehicle. Her precious Cadillac Escalade was at Frank’s shop, because she’d noticed a sponginess to the brakes when she’d been driving into town from the Big House. Frank promised to get to it ASAP, though she’d assured him there was no hurry. She’d had a custom foot rail installed when she bought it, which made it easier to get in and out of the Escalade. Liam’s truck wasn’t built for a vertically challenged female.
She’d called Liam to pick her up, and he’d promptly showed up in his shiny new truck. Candy apple red, it still had a factory-fresh gleam and that lovely new car smell. When he’d heard about the Escalade, he’d insisted on loaning it to her, said he’d drive his old pickup back to the work site. Being the mother of a whole passel of boys had its privileges after all.
If she hadn’t been swamped with work and clients, she’d have turned him down and waited until Frank fixed hers. But the housing market in Texas had exploded in the last several months, and work had been crazy. She was busier than she’d been in years, with a significant lack of available housing and an enormous pool of buyers willing to pay exorbitant prices. She was no dummy and knew eventually the real estate bubble would burst, but in the meantime, she planned to take advantage of all the opportunities presented by the ever-shrinking pool of available properties.
It wasn’t like Shiloh Springs or even the surrounding counties had an overabundance of properties hitting the market. Most people, once they moved to this neck of the woods, planted roots and stayed. With Austin being a little over an hour away, lots of folks were willing to commute if they found the right house, which she specialized in. Her company was one of the top real estate offices in Central Texas and ranked in the top ten in the whole state.
Tugging the strap of her handbag higher on her shoulder, she walked toward the house she’d come to look at. The owner had called the day before, asking her to come check the place out, and give him a realistic figure of its market value in its current condition. He’d inherited the property six months earlier from his elderly uncle and with the unexpected windfall had planned to relocate to Shiloh Springs. At least until he’d gotten a promotion with his company, which would take him out of the country for the next two years. It didn’t make sense to have the house sit empty for that long, and he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of fixing up and renting the place. Add in the fact that since property prices were bringing in record highs, he wanted to sell, and wanted the best realtor to handle the transaction.
Smart man, because Boudreau Realty is the best.
She studied the house, viewing it with a practiced eye. All the facts about the property were outlined on the printed sheet she’d stuffed in her purse before she left the Big House earlier that morning, but she wanted to look at it aside from all the facts and figures. While details were important, she needed to get a feel for the place. Each home had its own unique character and personality, like a living, breathing being—at least to her.
The aura of the house oozed neglect. Not surprising. The older gentleman who’d lived there hadn’t been able to keep up with maintaining the basics, like paint and foundation. She knew he’d utilized a yard service for mowing the patch of grass surrounding the house, and keeping the bushes trimmed. Logically, a lot of the value was in the land itself, not the house. That was simply the fact of living in Central Texas, especially if you planned on raising crops or animals. This place boasted slightly over five acres, so while it wouldn’t be a huge ranch, it would be a nice place for a family who wanted a bit of land and privacy.
The siding on the home had once been a pristine white but had faded with age to almost a creamy yellow color. Brick red shutters framed the first-floor windows. Luckily, all the shutters appeared to be intact and attached. That wasn’t always the case and finding replacements for older ones usually meant having them custom made.
The text message alert on her cell phone pinged, and she dug in her purse for the phone. Usually, she’d have ignored it while she was evaluating a property, but since Douglas hadn’t been out of the hospital long, she needed to make sure it wasn’t him. She’d be the first to admit she was a worrywart when it came to her hubby. Seeing him lying in a hospital bed frightened her more than she wanted to admit, and it was something she wouldn’t soon forget.
Reading the text, she sighed. It was from Frank, telling her the brake master cylinder was shot and needed replacing. He had to order the part. Since it was Friday afternoon, he’d try to get one by Saturday, but the likelihood was iffy. If he couldn’t find one locally, he’d have to get one from the city, and it would be Monday before she’d get her baby back.
She shot a quick text back, telling him to go ahead and do what he could. Liam wouldn’t mind her keeping his truck for an extra couple of days. He had his old pickup, and he’d scream bloody murder if she even suggested swapping with him for the weekend.
Shoving the phone back into her bag, she stepped onto the house’s front porch and smiled. It wrapped across the entire length of the front and seemed in surprisingly decent shape. Of course, she’d have the company’s handyman come and check it over, but it would be a good selling feature. People loved being able to have a front porch where they could sit in the evenings and relax after a hectic day. Add a porch swing and buyers would eat it up.
Opening the front door with the key her client overnighted her, she stepped inside a living time capsule. Directly in front of the door, a wide staircase led upstairs. Not the best feng shui, but not a deal killer either. Nothing appeared to have been touched in decades. Even the furniture looked like something from a bygone era. Good quality pieces, albeit out of style, and covered with sheets. The walls were a soft robin’s egg blue and looked like they hadn’t been painted since the furniture was new. Faded lace curtains, yellowed with age, covered the front-facing windows, sheer enough to let through diffused sunlight. Definitely a woman’s touch, though she knew the previous owner’s wife had passed away a year ago.
On the right side of the first floor was the formal dining room. Smaller than she’d expected, it would hold a table and maybe six or eight chairs. Nowadays, a lot of people didn’t even bother having a separate dining area. With the windows providing a lot of natural light, she could easily see the space being used as an office. Might consider staging it like that, since lots of folks worked from home nowadays.
The kitchen, like the living room, hadn’t been updated in a long time. On the plus side, it was a good size and the layout worked. Solid wood cabinets were an added bonus. They could be painted a vivid white, brightening up the whole kitchen. Add granite or quartz countertops, upgrade the appliances, and it would become a decent kitchen.
The rest of the house was pretty much what she expected. Four bedrooms, the primary, largest one, on the main floor and three others upstairs. Two and a half bathrooms. For a house this size, having an additional half bath was another bonus, and upped the selling value. The main bedroom was roomier than she’d expected, although it could use more closet space. The main bathroom wasn’t attached, but it was next door to the bedroom, so she could point out to potential buyers that a quick door installation from the bathroom into the bedroom could be done for minimal cost, and they’d have an ensuite. At least it had double sinks and a decent-sized shower.
Heading downstairs, she pulled her cell phone from her bag and dictated notes on her findings. She liked talking about a property after she’d done a visual run through, while her thoughts were fresh. Speaking aloud each selling point, and the things that needed refreshing—like paint and flooring—seemed to set the details in her memory. It also gave her a reminder of what she found.
Stepping onto the porch, she locked the front door, and dropped the key into her bag, along with her phone. She’d have to remember to have Serena bring a lock box to put on the front door, so workmen would have access. Glancing around again, she smiled. The land around the house had been sodded with grass, bushes wrapped around both sides of the house, starting at the edge of the front porch, and lining the outer walls. They’d obviously been well-tended, and the grass still looked lush and green. The new owner had made an agreement with the small local company who’d worked for his uncle, because he hadn’t wanted the property to appear abandoned and encourage squatters or vagrants. Smart.
Past the landscaped lawn, the land was dotted with trees. Mostly large oaks, the kind found all over the Lone Star State. They grew naturally in the Texas soil and spread their branches in a huge canopy over the dirt. It was a good plot of land, with enough acreage for an industrious family to make it their own. Neighbors aplenty, but not so close as to be all up in their business. She chuckled. Definitely another selling point.
Four bedroom, two and a half bath homes in this market, even with the commute to Austin, would garner a hefty price. Probably multiple offers if the current owner was willing to make a few of the upgrades she’d suggest. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that though, since he’d seemed anxious to unload the place. All she could do was make the suggestions and leave the final decision in his hands. If it was her property, she’d make a few revisions, knock down a couple of walls, and bring the old beauty into the twenty-first century. Hopefully potential buyers would see the same strong bones and possibilities she saw and revive the old girl.
Stepping off the porch, she continued making her way around the side of the house, inspecting the base of the house and the soil beneath it. Some older homes tended to have foundation issues. Texas soil was tricky to build on, and foundation issues were common. Luckily, the home had a pier and beam foundation, which she much preferred. She hated dealing with the slab foundations so popular in Texas with new construction. They were a pain in the backside when it came to repairs.
Continuing around to the back of the house, she studied the wooden steps leading from the kitchen door out to the backyard. The area screamed for a nice big deck, but it wasn’t up to her. Wasn’t her house, she wasn’t going to live there. Unless, she pondered, one of her boys might want to take on the challenge of bringing the old gal back to her former glory. It was something to consider.
On either side of the kitchen door were window boxes full of dead withered leaves and stems. Guess the company who took care of the lawn and bushes hadn’t bothered with those. She imagined they’d once been filled with fresh herbs, maybe some brightly colored flowers. This close to the kitchen, it would be easy to simply throw open the window and pick what they needed for whatever recipe they were cooking and, with a few snips, have fragrant, fresh herbs.
About a hundred yards from the house, she spotted a large outbuilding, bigger than a small gardening shed. Oversized, the previous owner had probably used it for storage. It wasn’t big enough for a garage, and too far from the house to be used as one anyway. Pulling out her phone again, she dictated a quick note that the house did not have a garage. Lots of homes in Texas didn’t, so it wasn’t that unusual. Those that did tended to convert them into extra living space if they were attached to the main structure.
Inhaling deeply, she smiled. It was a gorgeous day. The sun shone brightly in the vibrant blue sky, though she knew that wouldn’t last long. The forecast called for storms to roll through later in the afternoon, some possibly severe. There had been talk of large hail too. But for now, she’d take advantage of the beautiful weather and finish checking out the property. Thank goodness she’d put on her tennis shoes before she left the office.
Might as well look at the outbuilding, see what it contained, if anything, and what needed to be hauled away. Hitching up her shoulder strap, she headed for the large shed. When she reached it, she frowned, noticing there wasn’t any type of fastening on the door. The only thing holding it closed was a slide-type bracket, far too flimsy to be used on an outer door. It was the kind you’d usually see inside. If there was anything even remotely valuable in the shed, it begged to be stolen.
Pulling the door open, she stepped up on the wobbly piece of plywood acting as a wooden incline and walked inside. Once again, an overwhelming sense of neglect spread through the structure. The interior was dark and smelled musty and almost…moldy? She wondered if there was a water supply someplace close by. The floor consisted of sheets of plywood, laid end-to-end, some overlapping in places. Might indicate flooring issues, maybe rot. Might also mean the building wasn’t good for anything except tearing down.
Two of the walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves, most empty. That was good news; it meant less stuff to haul to the dump. Along the back wall sat a dilapidated push lawnmower with the blade attachment bent and unusable. A leaf blower leaned forlornly in the corner, cobwebs decorating its casing. A rake and a shovel lay on the plywood floor, discarded and alone.
The wall on the right was covered in water stains leading downward from the roof in several places. Probably the source of the moldy smell, she mused. She lifted her phone, needing to make a note for the inspector to see whether the water damage warranted saving the outbuilding, or whether the whole thing needed to be torn down. Calling up the camera function, she clicked a quick picture.
Stomping her foot against the plywood, she heard a cracking sound. Frowning, she turned on the flashlight app, shining it toward her feet. Jagged cracks fissured in thick lines across the aged wood. There was a bouncy, spongy feeling beneath her feet. Definitely not safe. Moving away from the weakened spot, she stepped to the side, grimacing at the piles of old grass shavings beneath the shelves. There was also evidence of scattered critter nests, meaning rodents made the old building their home at one point. A shudder raced through her. Hopefully they were long gone. She wasn’t afraid of a few mice; she seen more than her fair share of the little buggers living on a ranch. Didn’t mean she wanted to meet them face-to-face today.
Glancing upward, she noted the single exposed lightbulb with a pull string. Though there was diffused light from the sunshine, the interior of the shed was still dark, and it couldn’t hurt to have more light. Reaching for the string, she muttered a curse when she couldn’t quite reach it. Sometimes being short was bloody inconvenient. Douglas wouldn’t have had a problem reaching the cord. Neither would any of her sons. Shoot, even Nica could have pulled the stupid thing without issue.
Glaring at the cord, she rose on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as it would reach. Her fingertips teased against the little metal fastening at the end, causing it to swing back and forth. She huffed out a frustrated breath. Pulling her purse off her shoulder, she laid it on the floor, up against the wall so it was out of the way. She was a Boudreau, and no stupid piece of rope was going to get the best of her.
Taking a deep breath, she bent her knees and jumped toward the hanging string. Her fingers caught on the end, and she pulled. Light painted across every surface of the shed, and she landed on her feet. A loud crack sounded right before she felt the plywood beneath her give way, sliding sideways the moment she touched down. Thrown off balance, arms windmilling, she landed hard on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Holding still, she grimaced at the pain.
Well, that was stupid. I should know better than to think I’m Wonder Woman, able to do anything. Ow!
Struggling to sit, she glared at the offending piece of wood which had skidded a couple of feet away, leaving a gap beneath the floor. She couldn’t help noticing the rather large hole revealed by the missing piece of flooring.
Great, one more reason to tear this thing down.
She looked around, getting her bearings on where she’d landed. Unfortunately, it was on the opposite side of the huge hole in the floor from where she’d laid her purse.
And her phone.
“Looks like I’m on my own. Can’t call the cavalry to ride to the rescue.” She chuckled at the picture of all her grown sons saddling up and riding to the rescue, grimacing when pain shot through her lower back. “Ugh, no more laughing. Now, let’s get up and get out of here.”
Easing onto her side, she made it to her hands and knees, gritting her teeth to keep from yelling at the pain in her backside and from her own stupidity. Putting weight on her right foot, she collapsed onto the ground when her ankle couldn’t hold her weight. She thumped back into a sitting position and reached for her ankle, noting it had swollen to almost double in size. Touching the skin, she winced at the shock of pain shooting through it.
Shaking her head, she leaned back against the wall of the shed, and closed her eyes. “It’s going to be a long trip back to the truck.”