"No."
Becca ground her foot into the broken cobbles of the walkway, the way she always did whenever she really wanted something, "Come on Robbie, we've been talking about this for years! It's perfect," she gestured to the aging mansion perched over a patchy brown lawn and withered rose bushes.
"It's falling apart."
"Not really, the inspector says the structure is sound, it just needs a few major repairs, like new insulation and wiring. Everything else is cosmetic."
"You'll never be able to sell it."
Becca's eyes narrowed, "I'm just going to take that as you being worried, and not a comment on my skills as a real estate agent," her expression softened, "besides you haven't seen what the other historic houses in Rosewood are going for. The one on Pendleton sold for a million and a half last month, and it's like half the size of this one," she smiled, "and their reno was for shit."
"Yeah, but Beccs--"
"You've wanted to work on historic house restoration for how long? Hell, you're getting a degree in--"
"Beccs, it's
the Red House
."
Becca snorted, "You're worried it won't sell because it's haunted? Robbie, we're not teenagers anymore. Just come inside and have a look."
Before Robbie could respond, she bounded up the stairs and across the wrap-around porch. The double doors weren't even locked, instead they were chained shut by a padlock, which Becca opened, with ease. Why did she already have a key? But, before Robbie could address the sinking feeling in his stomach, she threw open the doors to let in the morning light.
Oh damn. Robbie remembered coming in here when he was seventeen, but it had been dark, and he had been concentrating on other things. Now, fifteen years later, he couldn't help but gawk at the acres of scuffed but still intact hard wood floor, the gingerbread arches over the windows, and the miles of hand-carved dark wood trim circling the remaining walls and doorways.
Wait, why was the drywall missing from most of the exterior walls?
"Becca...did you already buy this place?"
"The bank practically threw it into my lap! I got four hundred for the place, and another two hundred for the reno."
"Two hundred?! That's never going to be enough. I'd charge like twenty five grand for the re-wiring alone."
"Well," her foot pressed into the walnut planks, "if I can save some costs on labor..."
Robbie grumbled, "how much of a loss am I going to take here?"
"I can cover materials."
"Becca!"
She held up her hands, "Wait! It's not as bad as it sounds. You do the wiring and help out on the other renovations, and I'll give you twenty five percent of the profit when all is said and done."
Holy shit, that could be a lot of money, "OK..." Robbie chewed his lip, "but if I work on the non-electrical stuff, I want thirty percent, and," he held up a finger, "and! I want a say on some of the design stuff. There's no point in doing this if the interior looks like every other McMansion in town."
Becca offered a smug smile, "Done." Robbie had the distinct impression she'd expected the additional requirements, that girl had always been a planner.
"OK," Robbie ran a finger through his orange-red beard, it was getting a little bushy, "How long do I have to get the wiring done?"
"End of the month."
"WHAT?"
She offered a theatrical shrug, "You know how this works, I need this place to be turn-key by spring. It's already October. Wiring has to go in before almost everything else."
Robbie grumbled, "Fine. I guess I can work evenings and weekends. Not gonna be a lot of time for much else besides work or school for the next couple of weeks."
Becca stuck out her bottom lip, "Honey, after you ended things with Jose, you haven't exactly been doing much anyway."
"Thanks, Beccs."
"Oh you can throw yourself a pity party in Bali next year with all the money you're going to make when I sell this place. Now come on, the drawings are in the dining room, and I have to put the fear of god into my kitchen-guys."
An hour later, Robbie had returned with his van and the supplies to get started. At this stage it was mostly work lights, measuring tape, and notepads for redoing the circuit layout. At more than five thousand square feet, this place was a monster.Robbie chuckled, despite his high school memories, the only thing monstrous here was the amount of dust.
The Red House, with its faded-blood paint job, was a local town legend. While everybody knew the place was haunted, nobody ever had the same story for why. Robbie grew up hearing tales of the Red House Bride, with her blood-stained dress, Headless Molly, the Saw-Tooth Man, and a dozen other supposed denizens that made this place home. You couldn't graduate highschool without stepping inside. And the bravest kids took it a step further, they tried to spend the night in October.
Probably for the usual reasons, October was regarded as the most haunted month in the house's haunted year. And while Halloween was important, legend had it that monsters really came out on either October 12th or 13th. Maybe it was a Columbus Day thing? Either way, when Robbie and Peter had tried back when they were seventeen, they barely lasted two hours.
But damn, it had been a fun two hours. Until...well...
While part of Robbie wanted to stroll down memory lane, it was already past noon by the time he had worked out the insanity of old aluminum wiring in the basement. As he moved onto the main floor, Robbie took out his laptop and hooked it up to his little battery generator he brought to work-sites. Unfortunately he had more work than just wiring to do.
He pulled up the readings for this week, Historic Trusts and Zoning, (ugh) and started the text-to-speech reading software. It was tough to listen to the already boring chapter delivered in a monotone computer voice, but it let him do his schoolwork and keep his hands free to work.
Despite this weeks' exercise in boredom, Robbie was still really excited to go back to school. The first time was mostly a blur of booze and men, but this time, he really enjoyed the content. Funny how that made the classes actually worth the money, and made him want to finish this time. Even if he always felt vaguely ridiculous stuffing himself into a chair besides twenty-year olds, and even if his dad still looked at him like he had sprouted two extra heads whenever he brought up college.
"Notification. Response Due at Eleven-Fifty-Nine-P-M, Twelve October, for History Three Eight Seven: Historic Preservation Practicum." The software announced the reminder notification in its usual off-kilter voice.
