If You Were Here

sizes.”

I mentally snap my fingers. “Speaking of evil, we’re doing a walk-through with Vienna on Friday to assess damages for our security deposit.”

“During the day, or is she going to pay us another middle-of-the-night visit?”

“She said three o’clock, but a.m. or p.m. is anyone’s guess. Ann Marie may still be here, so I’m rooting for a.m.”

“Have they ever met?” Mac wraps a portion of tape around a box containing manuals for appliances we had four apartments ago.

“Nope. But I imagine if they do finally encounter each other, we’ll see it on the news.”

“Mmm-hmm, that is indeed Jake Ryan’s house.”

I cast a sidelong glance at Ann Marie, nodding to herself in the passenger seat. “You say it like there was a semblance of doubt.”

“I didn’t doubt you; I simply need to see things for myself.”

We exit the car and make our way to the front door. The weather has warmed to the point where coats aren’t necessary, so I’m clad in a fleece pullover and yoga pants. Ann Marie’s done up in her usual early-spring uniform of slim-fit oxford, rose pink corduroy Laura Petrie pants, and a cashmere wrap looped artfully around her shoulders. For an extra splash of color, she’s held her honey blond bangs back with a floral silk scarf. I’ve long since stopped making Stepford Wives jokes around her; she takes them as a compliment.

“Let’s go in.” The seller’s agent couldn’t be here, so she gave us the lockbox code. I clumsily release the key and open the door. “The place is a little rough around the edges, but the inspection wasn’t bad. Most of what we’ll concentrate on is painting, papering, and swapping fixtures. We’ll need to do some minor bath upgrades, too, but that’s not a huge deal.”

“Noted.”

Ann Marie is completely silent while I lead her on the tour. She’s always quiet when she’s concentrating. And as most defense attorneys learn the hard way, she’s almost impossible to read. Of course, I could have told you that fifteen years ago, when we played strip poker at the Phi Delt house. All of us were down to our underpants while she hadn’t even removed her signet ring.

I talk through how the real layout compares to that of the movie. “The dining room was over there in the film, and the kitchen was way smaller, so this huge room is kind of a bonus.”

I show her all our favorite parts and elaborate on our plans to fix those that aren’t. I point out where I’ll put my writing room. “See?” I say. “I’ll have the perfect view of the apple tree when it blooms next month!”

We go all the way from the third-floor loft to the basement bar and then back out into the treelined yard. Rain’s left the soil too damp to make our way down to the lake, but it’s so windy we can hear the water slapping against the bluffs.

“So,” I say when our tour concludes, “what do you think?”

Ann Marie lifts the bottom of her scarf and inspects its edge. She’s stalling; that’s her one tell. Finally, she replies, “Purchasing this home is fucking insane.”

I let out a short barking laugh. “Tell me how you really feel. Seriously, what do you think?”

Ann Marie’s eyes are as steely gray as I’ve ever seen them. “What I really think is you should run away from this house. Very fast. The level of disrepair is profound and it’s going to cost hundreds of thousands more than you anticipate.”

Argh. Tell Ann Marie about the potential for rain and she’ll prepare for a hurricane. I’m not saying she’s one to overreact, but… Oh, wait. Yes, I am.

“Honey, I respect your opinion — you know I do — but I’ve got to politely disagree. Our inspector gave it two thumbs-up.”

“Then he’s either mentally ill or incompetent.”

Before I can argue, she plows on. “I can see a dozen very expensive things wrong with this place from here. For example, there — the lintels over the window aren’t painted. They show signs of rust. Seems innocuous, yes? But eventually they’ll lose strength and won’t support the weight of the masonry. Was that noted in your report?”

“Um. .” I don’t even know what a lintel is.⁶⁸

“Right. Over there now, where the ivy grows?”

“I love the idea of ivy!” I exclaim.

“Yes? Then you must also love the growth of mold and mildew? Do you want to promote rot or allow access to small animals and bugs? Hmm? No? Then lose the ivy.”

“Fine. That’s a landscaping issue and not terribly expensive.” I feel a tad smug because I can almost never get anything over on Ann Marie, and when I do, I suspect it’s because she lets me.

“Your chimney cap is cracked and the exterior lights are loose, both of which sound small but can lead to a whole host of problems. Your gutters are deteriorated to the point that they’re leaching water into the soil around your house, which can impact the foundation. Want me to continue? All right, I shall. How about your roof? Mia, if you don’t want it to rain inside the house, I suggest you install a new one straightaway.”

“Listen, Chicken Little, the inspector—”

“Crazy, stupid, or senile.”

While I attempt to spot these so-called deficiencies, Ann Marie removes a linen handkerchief from her Kelly bag and dusts off her Tory Burch shoes. “Judging from the fine texture of this sawdust, I’d imagine you have termites. My guess is drywood, but I’d hesitate to rule out Formosan subterranean. And that beam, over there, under your writing window. .”

At this point, I’m having trouble mounting a defense. I wonder, was Mr. Sandhurst a little lax in his estimation? He did wear those huge glasses and he was kind of elderly and. .

Sensing my hesitancy, Ann Marie goes in for the kill. Suddenly I feel a tiny pang of empathy for any criminal who ever had the misfortune of facing off against her. “Pay attention to the long line of holes,” she explains, raising a neatly buffed pointer finger in the direction of the front right corner. “Caveat emptor, my dear. Woodpeckers caused those, validating my theory that most of the wood in this house is infested. Think about it. Woodpeckers don’t eat wood; they eat bugs. Ergo, if you have a woodpecker, you have bugs. How are you going to finish your book with the constant metronome of a woodpecker outside your window, hmm?”

Flabbergasted. That’s what I am. Flabbergasted.

“I. . I don’t know what to say, except that our inspection didn’t show any of this. I mean, are you trying to scare me out of living here? If so, you’re doing a swell job.”

“Yes! Absolutely I am! Run! I beg you to run away from this deal.”

This simply cannot be, so I persist. “What you’re telling me — it’s all fixable. A roof can be replaced. Termites can be killed. Ivy can be trimmed.”

“Mia, the heart of the matter is, you don’t understand what you’re undertaking,” Ann Marie says in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “Yes, you can almost always predict which option the homeowner will choose on House Hunters, and I believe with your taste you’d shine on Design Star.” She quickly amends her statement. “If you were putting together a room for little girls or gay men. What I’m trying to impress upon you is that renovations are long and ugly and demanding. You won’t grasp how invasive it is until you live it. Our powder room remodel took a month. No matter how much we tidied up, it was like every day the contractors came in and shook a five-pound bag of flour all over the house. I worry that this will put undue pressure on your and Mac’s shoulders. I just worry. That’s all.”

I have complete confidence Ann Marie has my best interests at heart and I believe her. . I do. She’s rarely wrong in spirit, but she frequently overestimates the scope of a problem.

Plus, I might just believe in fate a little bit more.

Destiny wouldn’t have led me to Jake Ryan’s house if it weren’t the one for us.

Right?

But just to be safe, I’m going to move my writing room to the library.