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been a known hideout for crack addicts until the new sheriff was elected.
    It was for sale for $15,000, and Brad understood that Julie could not pass that up. The acre and a half it sat on was worth so much more. The town just wanted someone to rehabilitate it. What Brad didn’t understand was why, at that price, none of the local premier real estate brokers or contractors had bought it for demolition. It wasan eyesore to him—dirty, smelly, old, and decayed. He didn’t like this project and saw this investment as a money pit. But, they were committed. They didn’t have the funds for anything more than a bare-bones renovation, with him doing the bulk of the work.
    Brad remembered the day they got the keys and went in for an inspection. He had to admit there was a faded grandeur about the place. The entry was huge, with a winding spiderweb of a staircase that seemed to go on forever. It had a cold stone floor; it reminded him of an indoor porch. A stained glass window dominated the large first landing. It was a depiction of Joan of Arc, with masses of blond hair stuck under her pointed helmet. She had a doll-like face, blue eyes, and a voluptuous body. A white horse stood docilely at her side. He stared dumbfounded at the interpretation of the French saint.
    “What were they thinking? We should rip that out,” he told Julie.
    “No way.” She raced up the stairs to examine it closer. “It was a Victorian perception of what Joan looked like.
    “Joan of Arc is rolling in her grave at this depiction.”
    “She was burned at the stake,” Julie informed him.
    “Well then, she’s spinning like a gyro. Man, that’s horrible, Jules.”
    “It’s authentic to the time period.”
    “Gives me the creeps. No wonder all they thought about was death.”
    “What are you talking about?” Julie turned to face him.
    “The Victorians created most of today’s funeral customs. They loved nothing more than decorating cemeteries with all those statues and stuff. Must have come from sitting in depressing places like this.”
    “Are you kidding me? This place is a diamond in the rough. Look at that fireplace.” She ran down the stairs and into the main salon, where a giant black wood mantel filled with carved animal heads took up almost a whole wall.It had a many-shelved étagère surrounding it.
    “Cheerful,” he smirked, his white teeth bright in his tanned face.
    “It is a bit over the top, but it’s so Victorian. Look at the paneling.”
    “Dark,” Brad commented grimly.
    “I think it’s beautiful.” Julie hugged him. “Work your magic, Brad, and we’ll make this into a showplace.”
    Brad did not like the speculative gleam in his wife’s eye. He caressed her cheek and kissed her on the lips, smiling when he knew he had her full attention. “This is just another flip, Jules.”
    “What?” She looked like a startled kitten,knowing that somehow he was reading her thoughts. “You know, Brad, we could turn it into a bed-and-breakfast again.”
    Julie’s mind was like a hamster on a wheel, always running—thinking of new ways to make money. She could be harebrained; some of her ideas were just plain dumb. Brad never minded telling her, either. They had some pretty big fights, but the make-up sex made it all worthwhile, he thought with a smile. Somehow it was always sweeter when she was the victor, so he let her think she won more times than not. However, this was not one of those times.
    “I don’t think so, Jules. We can’t afford to carry both our mortgage and the construction loan.”
    “We could consolidate and move in here…,”she said, her voice trailing off as she caressed the coffered mahogany paneling.
    “Sure, and we’ll shower at the gas station in town?”
    “Think about it?”
    “I did, and I’m not anymore.”
    “Any more what?” she asked hopefully.
    “Thinking about it.”
    Now Brad stood in an endless pile of filth, two days into the cleanup. Wearily, he packed his tool belt away,