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The Quintessential Q
Chapter Ten
Painted Lady.
Early Saturday morning only hours after dropping Emily off at the mansion in time to make Carly's phone call, Nik returns to the neighborhood around the theater. It was within walking distance of PCU, the theater, the hospital and had a view of the river. Dressed in casual running togs, he makes a circuit of the neighborhood. Last night he had seen it at dusk as he made his way to the theater-- a much kinder light. The neighborhood is a yoyo of revitalization with boarded up houses next to those half done. Huge old houses turned into rooming houses for college students with trashed yards and too many cars around them. But this was the perfect place, dammit, to fulfill the Quartermaine tradition. Now if he could just find the perfect house with all the possibilities that would appeal to Emily's romantic nature. The cottage is out. He winces thinking of all the ghosts that were there: Brenda, Robin and then all the time that he had spent with Katherine there. He had to find the perfect place. Something that would be Emily's and Emily's alone. His father might say he was putting the cart before the horse or a pedantic version of whatever that homily was. It was time; time for him to stop hiding out in the woods and take control of his life and his portion of the Cassadine fortune. Despite his rigorous stretching, he gets a cramp in his calf and stops on the cracked sidewalk to try to rub it out. Grunting in pain, he rubs even harder working out the knot. Finally he looks up and sees it-- the house.
This house might have a history but not with anyone that Emily knew. An Old Victorian, Queen Anne style complete with turret-- a painted lady that had fallen on hard times: the wrap around porch sagged in spots, spindles missing from the railing, some windows were broken and boarded up, the gabled roof showed sign of wear with shingles missing, paint faded and chipped. The lawn choked with weeds hadn't been tended in who knows how long. Even the For Sale sign was faded and half falling down. Nik looks on either side of the house to it's neighbors and winces. They were also victorians but clearly beyond the point of redemption and good for nothing but a wrecking ball. He paces from one neighboring house to the other and gets an idea. The lots were narrow but deep IF the other houses weren't there it would remove the eyesores and widen the lot. Someone had already started revitalizing the next house beyond-- evidence of work in progress was already apparent with the scaffoldings that lined the front of the house. Nik takes a slow jog around the block to the alley behind the houses to check out the houses from the back. Facing the alley is a carriage house, or what had once been a carriage house. For some reason it seemed in better condition than the house. He walks into the back yard and sees evidence of an overgrown English style garden-- possibilities nothing but endless possiblities. Watching his step after nearly tripping on a piece of concrete in the middle of what had been the back yard, he makes his way to the house and peers into the filthy windows. He had to see the inside. Walking around the house he memorizes the number of the realtor from the listing sign and jogs back to his jag. Pulling out the cell phone, he calls the realtor's number. A grumpy woman answers.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Yes, I do; the question is how interested are you in unloading the eyesore at..." Nik gives the address.
"Is this a prank?" The surprised woman answers now wide awake. She'd had the listing on her books for two years.
"I want to see it now. I'm at the house. How soon can you be here?"
"Half an hour, forty five minutes tops."
"How do you like your coffee? I'll use the time waiting for you to pick some up." Nik offers graciously having gotten his way.
"Black is fine." The woman hangs up the phone and races for the shower.
Forty minutes later, Nik is leaning on the hood of his Jag sipping coffee when the Realtor pulls up in a late model american sedan. She'd almost not come-- thinking over and over that it was a joke but thanks the gods when she sees the jag parked in front of her albatross. She climbs out of the car grabbing her laptop and the keys. "Coffee?" Nik offers her a styrofoam cup and a bag with a muffin in it.
"Thanks. You're Nikolas Cassadine, aren't you? You and your father were introduced as major contributors to the last Nurses Ball at General Hospital." The realtor realizes the open checkbook before her.
"Yes, but please don't think I have sucker written indelibly on my forehead." Nikolas grins. "Shall we go inside?"
"I have the keys right here." The realtor holds them up. Tucking the laptop under one arm and carrying coffee and the keys she marches up the cracked walk to the bowed stairs and to the front door. She unlocks the door and then attempts to open it. It won't budge. She puts her shoulder into it and the door opens with a groan.
"It's been awhile since the last time that you showed this house." Nikolas says not expecting an answer as he steps into the house. He was glad to have caught the Realtor unaware. He wanted to see the house warts and all from cellar to turret room. Making an appointment would have allowed the realtor to polish her oratory and gloss over the house's many deficits.
"The house has been in one family since it was built in 1890. " The realtor begins. The house was built by them from the fortune that they made in the shipping industry. The family's bad luck began soon after when they had a few ships go down at sea. One son was lost in WWI. More inroads were made in the family fortune during black october of 29. Even with the reversals, they had more than enough money to maintain the house. The younger son inherited after his parents passed away. His only child was killed in Korea. His wife passed away in the 70's. The younger son lived here until he was confined to a nursing home two years ago."
"So he is still alive."
"Oh yes, in his 80's poor health but with all of his faculties which has to be the modern version of hell. A nephew is incharge of the estate but lives out of the area."
"And the nephew has no interest in maintaining the property."
"No." The realtor bites her lip but finally says what is on her mind. "My dad is in the same nursing home. I visit with Mr Lewis when I visit my dad. The nephew isn't interested in anything that might diminish the estate. Victorians are a niche market, few people have the time or money to restore and maintain them. But Mr Lewis would die if he saw what has happened to the house. He started to lose interest in it after his wife died; it's true, and then when his health started failing he couldn't keep up but still..."
"Anyone home?!" A voice calls from the front door.
"We're in here." Nik calls out.
"Who is that?" The realtor asks suspiciously.
"A contractor. Someone who is qualified to do an unbiased physical assessment of the house as well as estimate the cost of the repairs."
The contractor walks into the room off the entry way where Nik and the realtor were standing. "You woke me up for THIS? What a dump."
"I would prefer that you limited your comments to both the specific and the constructive." Nikolas says coldly. The older man is taken aback by being taken to task by a man young enough to be his son maybe even grandson. But shrugs.
"Whatever." He turns to the realtor. "Major systems in the basement?" She nods. The contractor walks away.
"And now for what you can do for me." Nik says to the realtor. "This property is less than valueless with the properties on either side. I need you to find out who owns them. There is no possiblity of deal without that information. Can you get it for me?"
"Of course." The realtor taps on the case of her laptop.
"I'll leave you to it then." Nik walks away. Starting at the top he works way from the turret room to the bedroom level, then back to the main floor. He crosses paths with the contractor who grunts at him and then continues his assessment a pocket sized notebook already half filled with notes. Nik wanders the main floor then goes into the antiquated kitchen and even down in the cellar. He comes back up and goes out the back door to the porch and looks out over the back yard. He walks over to the carriage house and goes through it as well. When he is done with his walk through he goes back to where the Realtor is sipping her coffee. "What did you find out?"
"No real surprise. Both houses are in foreclosure for back taxes. Whoever pays the taxes gets the houses."
"Can you get into them?"
"Sure. They're set up on a skeleton key so any realtor can show them."
The contractor comes back into the room. "Are you serious about this? It would be cheaper to knock the place down and put up a new house."
"Cheaper is not always better."
"Your money, buddy, or should I say your money pit."
"Have you been to the theater down the street?" Nik asks the contractor.
The contractor looks at him with new eyes and furrows his brow. "Is that what you have in mind? I'll tell you right now that you aren't going to be able to get the parts and pieces you need to bring this place back to it's original state. The foundation is sound but that's all I'm willing to say at this point. Heard you talking about the houses next door-- any chance of going through them too?"
"Why do you ask?" Nik says.
"There might be something salvagable. It's a long shot but maybe between the three houses and a hell of a lot of money you might make one house."
"Let's go see." The realtor suggests setting down her coffee and leading the two men to the house next door. The same process is repeated with both houses. The contractor goes over each with a fine tooth comb. He pays particular attention to the fixtures, door knobs, brasses of any kind. He digs at the painted over wainscoating of the houses with a pocket knife checking the wood. With Nik's help, he pull up rotten shag carpeting to see the flooring beneath. The realtor winces when the contractor gets out a claw hammer and starts pulling down some paneling until she sees the fire place behind it.
"Thought so." The contractor grunts again.
"Oh wow-- who the hell would cover that up!" The realtor exclaims.
"Probably done 50 or 60 years ago and nobody rememembered what was behind it. I see that sh... stuff all the time."
They walk back to the main house. The contractor sits on the front porch and says nothing. His focus is clearly inward. Nik can see the calculations and plans running through his eyes. The mention of the theater had challenged the man. He'd stopped seeing the flaws and started seeing the strengths. Nik turns to the realtor who is filthy now having gone step by step with the two men. "Offer the nephew half of his asking price-- cash no dickering-- if he tries, drop the offered price by five percent. Let me know what you need as far as a cashiers check to take care of the other two properties. You can contact me at this number on Monday when you've accomplished the task. I also want the address of Mr Lewis in the nursing home. What you lose on the commission of this house, I'll make up on the houses next door."
The realtor nods stunned. "Sure. I'll call you." She climbs back into her car and drives off. Nik sits on the steps next to the contractor.
"I'm not kidding; it's a money pit..." The contractor says. "Wiring, plumbing, heating, insulation, the kitchen needs to be gutted. Eight bedrooms with no closets and only two baths-- and the baths are the size of the nonexistent closets. It's going to cost you."
"But there's potential."
"Oh yeah, hell of a lot of potential. But you better tell me exactly what you want."
"I want something airy, spacious, light but classic. It has to have the romance and timelessness of the victorian but the modern conveniences too. A family home that is suitable for business entertaining."
"Oh no problem-- you just want it all." The contractor rolls his eyes. "I'll write up a proposal for the major systems and repairs needed. Once you get the properties we'll come up with a more detailed plan. Get my partner to do up some sketches. For the major work I've got some good subs I normally work with. Gonna have to get in touch with some specialists though for the detail work but that's going to be down the road. Only thing worth a damn right now is the carriage house. We'll use that for a staging area."
"You should have the go ahead on Monday."
"And how do you figure that."
"Greed. The trustee of the estate wants money. He'll bite."