Read All Through The House for Free Online Page A

natural."
    Abigail smiled uncertainly, suppressing her instant and
unprofessional feeling of repugnance. "If you say so," she'd
murmured.
    She could only recall a time or two that she had not wanted
to make a sale. Then it had been because she'd taken such a dislike to the
would-be buyer. Today it was to their purpose. Darn it, she liked the Irving
House. She wanted to see it restored to its once-upon-a-time splendor, filled
with a family who loved it. She hated the idea of five separate entrances,
walls thrown up and others torn down, the staircase in the possession of one
buyer, the library belonging to another. And the ballroom, gone forever. Where
would the ghosts dance?
    She almost hoped Nate wouldn't be here today. He hadn't said
if he would be when she called to warn him of their imminent arrival. His voice
had sounded strange to her, although, like the last time, he'd been polite. She
couldn't put her finger on what it was; resignation, maybe? Oh, well, he
obviously was less than eager for her to sell the house out from under him, so
that wasn't exactly surprising. Instinct told him he would like the idea of
these particular buyers even less than the Petersons, however.
    Abigail stopped her car as close to the front porch as she
could manage. The moment the wipers were off, the driving rain sheathed the car
in a gray envelope. She couldn't even see the carriage house, much less its
interior.
    "Shall we go?" she said.
    The two men, whose names were Phil Browder and Colin Santos,
nodded reluctantly. Their enthusiasm had dropped a few points on the drive
here. Abigail suspected the gray rural view was not their idea of beauty.
Getting those handsome suits wet was clearly even less appealing to them. They
weren't prepared with raincoats.
    Once on the porch, shaking off the rain, all three stood and
looked in silence out at the yard. What had been a scene of high summer and
pastoral peace a few days ago was now dismal, the heavy-headed peonies beaten
into the grass and the leaves sodden with rain. Even the colors were washed
out.
    Abigail couldn't think of anything to say, and neither man
commented. After a moment she turned to give the door a cursory knock. When no
response came, she let them into the house.
    Abigail had a momentary feeling of deja vu as she stood in
the dim, silent entry hall. When she took a cautious sniff, however, all she
caught was the scent of floor polish and a faint mustiness, not surprising in
an old house with many of its rooms shut up.
    As they trailed through the first floor, Phil and Colin, as
they'd insisted on being called, mostly murmured to each other and jotted down
notes on pads. Abigail felt superfluous, since she had already told them about
the remodeling Ed Phillips had done. When they started throwing up imaginary
walls and talking about where exercise rooms and hot tubs might go, she dropped
back, feeling a stab of anger and pity for the house.
    As they mounted the main staircase to the second floor,
Abigail asked, "What do you think so far?"
    Colin frowned. "We're facing bigger expenses than we'd
envisioned. The layout isn't ideal, you know." He looked at her as though
it were her fault.
    "The house is beautiful, of course," Phil's
interjection was perfunctory. "But we'll need to go back to our offices
and do some figuring before we can tell how the numbers will add up."
    Inexplicably, Abigail's spirits rose. Her step was lighter
as she led the way through the bedrooms with their attached sitting and
dressing rooms, eloquent of a grand age that servants had made possible. She
paused in the doorway of the one she liked best, letting the two men wander
ahead. The room was huge and airy, with French doors leading out onto one of
the balconies. The wallpaper was fading and torn, but Abigail loved it anyway,
with the tiny butterflies against a pale yellow background. That it happened to
be the only furnished room told her that Nate liked it, too. Her gaze avoided
the bed, which she had