Cape May (9 page)

“How do you know all this?”

He paused. “When my marriage collapsed, I lived here for a year. People like to talk. People here still tell me things. I also ran a friend’s B&B while he was on vacation.”

“I read about that: inn-sitting.”

“Yes. It’s hard for owners to get away. I liked to help my friends when possible. So I learned a lot living here.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your marriage but I’m grateful for your knowledge.”

A smartly dressed woman walked up to the house and through the gate. Joanna smiled at her and said, “Ruth?”

The woman thrust her hand at Joanna and said, “I’m Ruth Halemayer. Nice to meet you, Ms. Matthews.”

Something about Ruth’s white teeth, starched clothes, and too perfect blonde highlighted hair, coupled with her instantly aggressive personality, made Joanna dislike her. “
I’m doing it again. Instantly being judgmental
,” Joanna
scolded herself, and then overcompensated, smiling too widely: “Call me Joanna. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

Ruth said to Michael, “This must be your husband Brian.”

“I’m a friend. Michael.”

Ruth adjusted, made some small talk about the trip down from New York and the weather, then got down to business. “I have four or five houses to show you today, depending on your time constraints. The first house we’ll see is the Widow’s Shawl. Full of history. It’s a reasonably priced fixer-upper, at the low end of your price range.”

Joanna glanced at Michael and he winked at her. She said, “Ruth, Michael used to live in Cape May. As my old, old friend, he’s here to advise me.”

Michael smiled. “Yes, Jo and I go back, wow, how many years now?”

“Oh, twenty at least.” Joanna said. “No, twenty-five.
I met you on my birthday.”

“Yes, that party at Proof of the Pudding wasn’t it?”

“We closed the place down.”

“Drank two bottles of the 1897 Château Lafite-
Rothschild, remember?” said Michael.

Ruth said, “How nice. Well, shall we walk to the house?”

Joanna said, “Michael told me about the Widow’s Shawl. I don’t think I can afford all those repairs.”

For a moment Ruth was silenced, but being professional
she recovered. Her starchy all-business personality dissolved.
“My boss is trying to unload the place. I wasn’t trying to scam you. It could be a good house if someone has the money and patience to renovate it. The price is reasonable.”

“I understand,” said Joanna. “I work in medical educa
tion, and I’ve occasionally pushed the second best medication,
or even the third, because its manufacturer was paying my salary. I’m okay with renovations, but nothing terribly extensive. ”

Ruth nodded. “I do have nice houses, in various sizes
and conditions, to show you.” She turned to Michael.
“Do you know the Baroness E, the Teal Dream, or the Tea & Scones?”

He said, “I knew the first two were for sale, but not the Tea & Scones.”

“It’s been closed for a while and a bit neglected. Not like the Widow’s Shawl, I promise. The owners couldn’t decide what they wanted to do but are now retiring and the house will be on the market officially in a few weeks. But you’re here now, so I’d like to show it to you. The owners are still living there, but won’t mind stepping out for an hour to give you some privacy to look over the house.”

Michael turned to Joanna. “They are all worth seeing. You’ll get an idea of what’s out there.” He turned to Ruth, casually, and said, “I haven’t seen the T&S since I stayed there years ago.”

“Since then,” Ruth continued, looking down and checking her notes, “they’ve renovated the kitchen…”

Michael motioned to Joanna discretely, first miming drinking tea then giving her the thumbs up and okay signs.

“…replaced the boilers, and did the roof. Minor repairs
need to be made—broken windows, steps, nothing too
expensive.”

“How many guest rooms?” said Joanna.

“Five bedrooms, four bathrooms. Two rooms can be used as a suite with a connecting bathroom. Small apartment upstairs for the owners to live in or it can be rented, too. Six blocks from the beach.”

“I’d like to see it,” said Joanna. “I’d like to see all three houses.”

“Great,” said Ruth, as she tapped into her iPhone
calendar. “I’ll call the Tea & Scones now. No Widow’s Shawl,
and I’ll try to move up one of the later appointments.”
She left the porch and walked to the sidewalk, for some cell phone privacy.

Joanna turned to Michael. “Am I glad I sat next to you on that bus!”

“I can be useful sometimes.”

They were smiling at each other, unable to look away. A small bomb of heat exploded in Joanna’s core, as if she had downed a strong brandy. She could feel the heat rising in her face, so she turned and walked away towards Ruth.

Ruth said, “We can go see the Baroness E now. It’s only
a few blocks from here. If you don’t mind, I just got a messag
e I have to respond to. I’ll be off by the time we’re there.”

“Please go ahead,” said Joanna, as she and Michael began strolling behind her.

Joanna’s level of excitement was high: she was about to see the inside of her first potential Cape May home. She didn’t feel like chatting and somehow Michael sensed it. They arrived at the house. Ruth got off the phone and unlocked the door as Joanna and Michael walked around the property then on the porch. Everything was in good condition but too ornate for Joanna. She carefully and systematically walked through the empty house, its halls and bedrooms and bathrooms, kitchen, attic, basement, garage, all of which confirmed that the Baroness E was not for her. She tried to be open minded, but she couldn’t picture herself living in the house.

Next on the list and geographically was the Teal Dream. Although architecturally pleasing and immaculate, it felt too creepy. Ruth dutifully pointed out all the positives and seemed to genuinely like it. Joanna used all her powers to imagine less oppressive furnishings, the walls with different paint or wallpaper, but nothing could cover her feeling that there’d been a brutal murder in the house. She felt like the kid in
The Shining
seeing blood and brains splattered on the wall, while no one else noticed the mayhem.

The three of them then walked to the Tea & Scones, chatting about Manhattan—Ruth visited there four times a year to see her sister and nieces—restaurants in both New York City and Cape May, and mortgage rates. They turned a corner and Ruth said, “The Tea & Scones is up ahead on the left. Three houses down.”

Joanna gasped when she saw it. It was like the younger, smaller sister of the Queen Victoria or the Manor Rose. Charming, elegant, and, in Joanna’s eyes, perfect.

Opening her loose leaf binder, Ruth began reading from various sheets of paper: “One of Cape May’s best kept secrets, the Tea & Scones boasts a stunning entryway and front door with stained and beveled glass.”

Joanna’s eyes took in every detail of the house. That sense was so attentive she suddenly realized another wasn’t working at all: she hadn’t heard a word of Ruth’s narration. Words didn’t matter at this point. The house, from the outside anyway, was everything Joanna had ever envisioned owning, despite the chipped and faded pale pink paint, the revolting green trim, a few broken windows, and splintered shutters hanging on for life by rusty nails. On the front path, Joanna looked up: the house had three floors with three porches that decreased in size as they went up. It gave the impression of a tiered wedding cake, with the smallest porch at the top for the bride and groom. Joanna walked up the pathway, flanked by overgrown rose bushes. Seven—
lucky number!—steps, some missing a brick here and there, led up to the wraparound porch, which was missing some posts, too, here and there. The stained glass of the front door formed an abstract work of art that instantly brought a smile to Joanna’s face. She felt welcomed. She felt she’d come home.

The porch needed stripping and refinishing, but the wood seemed good. When she stepped onto it, and walked the full length of it, she knew she was hooked. Michael saw her eyes shining with tears, and knew she loved the house. Her face was an open book.

Ruth said, “This isn’t in as good shape as the other two.
It needs work, but nothing horribly expensive,” and continued
reading over her papers. “Let’s see. There’s an apartment on the third floor that needs some dry wall and kitchen updates. It has a tiny sundeck with ocean views.”

“Oh, an ocean view. Just what I’ve always wanted! Even Brian would like that. Fantastic!”

Michael said to Joanna, “Come and see this,” and pulled Joanna off to the side, away from Ruth, who was having difficulty unlocking the door. About to whisper to her, he was momentary stalled by being so close to her. “Joanna,” he said, the three syllables tickling her ear.

She backed away. “I-I can hear you,” she said, suddenly interested in looking at the small overgrown side garden.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be a killjoy but I wanted to say that while I’m really enjoying your enthusiasm, you might want to dampen it a bit when dealing with” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder “
her.
”

“Of course. You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“No. You’re not schooled in the art of deception. If you manage to lie a little, and like the house despite all of its many, many deep flaws, you might be able to bargain a bit and get it for less.”

She smiled. “Thanks for the tip.” She walked back to Ruth, with her shoulders squared and her resolve intact. “What’s the average electricity bill?” she said, in a clipped, business-like voice.

Michael had to turn away to hide the grin on his face. He took a minute to subdue himself and, with his own blank face now set, he walked through the front door, which Ruth was holding open for Joanna.

Ruth said, “The owners are willing to negotiate and sell the house furnished, if you’re interested.”

Walking around in the house, Joanna had to suck in her cheek to stop from beaming and “Wow”-ing at everything she saw. Despite the fact that the house, in true Victorian
fashion, seemed to have twice as much furniture as it actually
needed—her sister Cynthia’s antiques shop could benefit from the excess—the house was roomy and welcoming, with the sun streaming in. Something in Joanna clicked, reacting to the house in a way she had only dreamed of. When Ruth led the way into another room, Joanna caught Michael’s eye and mutely screamed with enthusiasm. Something in Michael clicked, too.

They toured the entire house, with Joanna reciting her “Oh, this is okay, but I don’t like that” commentary, all the while jumping up and down inside and making faces aside to Michael. It was easy for Joanna to see past the broken windows, worn rugs, cracked walls, and chipped paint. Unlike the subdued nightmarish feel of the Teal Dream, this house filled Joanna with happiness. The very walls—despite some hideous wallpaper—felt infused with love and comfort and peace. When they left the house an hour later, Joanna again muted her enthusiasm and said to Ruth, “It’s nice. Do we have time to see another one?”

“Yes. It’s just a half block away, this way.”

As they strolled, Michael said, “It’s a buyer’s market isn’t it, if so many houses are for sale?”

Ruth said, “Yes and no. We are in a downturn but Cape May is always desirable. These are more than just houses—these are history. It’s not just about earning a living running a glorified hotel, it’s about stewardship. Maybe that’s why I wanted to show you the Widow’s Shawl. Someone caring
needs to buy it and restore it to its grandeur. I wish I had
the money.”

The last house was larger and more expensive than Joanna would have been comfortable taking on. They did a perfunctory look-through and left. After they saw everything, Joanna said, “Thank you. I’ve got a lot to think over.”

“I think you should have a good idea now of what you can get in Cape May in your price range.”

“Yes, thank you. If my husband wants to see any of these
houses, could you show us tomorrow, or at a later time?”

Ruth shook Joanna’s hand. “Of course, I’d be happy to. You can’t be expected to make a huge decision like this in a day or two. You have my card. Call anytime. And if you’d
like, I can email you when anything suitable comes on
the market.”

Joanna and Michael watched as Ruth drove away, around the corner. Joanna turned to Michael and was so excited, she almost hugged him, but squealed instead, “You were right. I love that house! It’s perfect. Even the name: the Tea & Scones. Perfect!”

They started walking, mostly because Joanna couldn’t be still.

He said, “The house had a remarkably friendly, light feel to it, as if it were filled with happy memories.”

“You felt it, too?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve walked into a few of these houses and felt…I don’t want to be dramatic, but I swear I’ve felt evil. Like that teal one. You can’t paint over that, you know?”

She stopped, and looked at him a moment, unable to comment. “I’ve lost track of where we are. I’m incredulous. It’s a dream come true, Michael. It really is. I’ve been searching and hoping, and I’ve found it. The house. Cape May. This is it.” Tears came. “I need to sit down. I’m dizzy.”