“Let’s see what it looks like.” I walked into the kitchen and spread the stack of blueprints out on the counter. I rifled through them until I found the second-floor plan and spread it out. After a minute of studying the line drawing, I said, “Here’s the master bedroom, and, yeah, this is a load-bearing wall. But look. Instead of tearing out this entire wall, we could build a wide doorway here and another regular doorway here.” I used my pencil to point out the spots. “This area would be your sitting room, and this here would be the closet. You could add French doors or just leave it all open. We’ll add a four-inch molding around the doors and crown molding at the top to make it look really elegant.”
He stared at the drawing, then nodded. “So it’ll be more like a suite of rooms. I could live with that.”
“We can run upstairs and take a closer look if you want to.”
“Okay, but first I want to look at the electrical plan. My biggest concern is that the wiring is updated. I need super-high-speed Internet along with every cable channel known to man.” He grinned wryly. “Gotta keep my finger on the pulse of popular culture.”
“Right.” I found the electrical plan and spread it out, bending the ends back and forth to flatten it enough to keep it from rolling. “We’re required by law to rewire the whole house because it’s still got the original knob-and-tube wiring throughout.”
“I wouldn’t even know what that was if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” he said, referring to the old-fashioned ceramic tubes and knobs that held electrical wires in place. “It’s a miracle the house hasn’t burned to the ground by now.”
I tapped my pencil on the drawing. “It looks like most of the upstairs rooms only have one outlet each, so we’ll add one or two more to each wall. And same goes for the light sockets. We can revamp the lighting to make it whatever you want it to be.”
“Good.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You want to go upstairs and look around?”
“Sure.” I made a few quick notes on the electrical blueprint, then rolled it back up with the rest of the stack. Glancing around the kitchen, I spied a cabinet on the far wall. “And before we leave, I want to check out the dumbwaiter.”
“Is that what that is? Cool.”
I turned and took one step—and screamed.
A tiny white rat skittered across the floor, ran right between my feet, and escaped into the living room. It might have been sort of cute—if I weren’t so horribly freaked out by rats. Even a tiny one that looked like a family pet.
It was lowering to admit it, but I scrambled out of the room and ran straight out the front door. Mac followed right behind me. I didn’t stop moving until I reached his SUV, where I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered uncontrollably.
“Sorry,” I muttered, when I could speak again. “Rats creep me out, no matter what size they are.”
“They creep me out, too.” He pulled me close and we huddled together for a long time in silence.
“Call me a wimp,” I said finally, rubbing my arms to get rid of the goose bumps. “But I don’t think I can go back inside. If there’s one rat, there’s probably more.”
Mac nodded in understanding. “I’ll call the Pied Piper.”
I gulped. “I know a guy.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.”
Chapter Five
The Bittermans had arranged a lovely service in the somber granite-walled auditorium on their sprawling property. The American flag was draped over Jesse’s casket at the front of the room, and chairs fanned out from there. Everyone who attended received a beautiful program designed by Marigold.
I had plenty of time to make some casual observations during the hour-long service.
The mayor and several members of the town council spoke, as did some of Jesse’s closest friends, including his two oldest buddies, Bob Madderly and Ned Darby. I’d met them a few times in the past when they got together over at Jesse’s house, so I recognized them. These were the two men who’d gone scuba diving with Jesse on his seventy-fifth birthday.
Both men were around Jesse’s age, but Ned appeared to be younger, taller and healthier than Bob. Ned also struck me as the more formal of the two, with his patrician profile, thick gray hair and charming smile. Bob had a bit of a gut, but despite the paunch, he seemed to be a spry old coot with a devilish gleam in his eye, very much like Jesse. I liked them both straightaway. Ned had briefly introduced his son, Stephen, to us before the service began. Stephen was probably about thirty-five years old, tall and nice-looking like his father, with sandy-colored hair and warm brown eyes.
Glancing around the filled room, I noticed three young uniformed servicemen standing in the back. At the end of Ned’s eulogy, Mr. Bitterman said a few more words followed by a short prayer. Then he left the podium and two of the military men approached the casket from either end. They took hold of the flag and began to fold it, first lengthwise, then back and forth in a triangle pattern, thirteen times, until there were only stars showing. As they folded, the third serviceman began to play a haunting rendition of Taps on his trumpet. It was a poignant performance with the notes echoing through the granite-walled room, giving me goose bumps.
The last man holding the flag tucked the edges securely into the fold, walked over to Jane, and presented it to her.