The View from Prince Street Read Online Free PDF

the next century,” Zeb said. “Homes were built of highly combustible material due to cost. To add insult to injury, the fire department would let your house burn down if you didn’t show proof of having bought fire insurance.”
    â€œFires still happen.”
    He cocked his head, sensing that a small door had opened and trying to peer inside. “Are you afraid of fires, Dr. McDonald?”
    I found holding eye contact with his clear gaze a challenge. “I have a healthy respect for them.”
    â€œI’ve noticed you’ve installed double the usual number of smoke detectors in this house. And the fireplace in your office hasn’t been used in years.”
    â€œThose are odd details to notice.”
    â€œI’m a contractor, Dr. McDonald.”
    â€œIt’s an old home and it’s also my place of business. The extra smoke detectors defray some of the cost of insurance. And I’ve no need to burn a fire. It’s inefficient and messy.”
    He studied me, and I sensed that if we’d met as two people in a social setting, he would have pressed the issue. But he was too professional to dig deeper. “Understood.”
    I held out my hand, indicating a round table nestled under the large window that overlooked the raw patch of yard. Hard now to remember what it looked like dry.
    We both sat and he carefully removed the rubber band from the roll of plans and unfurled them. “I’ve made the changes you requested and expanded the attic for extra storage space. You also asked for an estimate to convert the top space into storage space.”
    Carefully, I traced the lines depicting the new storage space. “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ll have a need for more storage.”
    â€œWhat about an apartment? You mentioned that once.”
    â€œNot a bad idea . . .”
    He rolled his head slightly to the side, unwinding tension. “If you ever have family that visits, an apartment would be ideal.”
    â€œI’m the last of the McDonalds.”
    The subtle scent of his soap mingled with the smell of rain. “You’re the last McDonald?”
    Ten generations of McDonalds had lived in Alexandria, and each generation saw the survival of only one or two McDonalds. With my sister’s passing sixteen years ago, I became the last in the clan.
    The last female.
    There was the boy, of course, but I had surrendered all claims to him when he was just hours old. Yes, I was thirty-two and capable of having more children, but I wouldn’t. I’d squandered my chance at motherhood when given the chance. I could have fought for him, but I hadn’t.
    â€œI’m the last McDonald and have no real need for an apartment. But I’m considering turning the space into an office. It would be nice to have some separation from this house—too much time is spent here.”
    He scratched the side of his head. “An office?”
    â€œCorrect.”
    â€œIf you’ve a mind to do that, then it makes sense to rough in Internet and more electrical outlets.”
    â€œThat’s a good idea.”
    â€œIt will be some added cost.”
    â€œI understand. Perhaps you could also draw up a plan that breaks the space into two areas—one designed for reception and the other for my office.”
    â€œThere will be another delay while I draw up the design.”
    â€œWhat’s a few days with more rain moving our direction?” I reasoned.
    â€œI don’t mind making the changes, but this will be your third set. You sure you even want a garage out back?”
    He was intuitive. Lately, I wasn’t as certain about the addition. I wasn’t sure why I was unsettled about the plans that had been so clear only about a month ago. “Better to make the changes now than later when it will be far more expensive.”
    The sun-etched lines feathering from the corners of his eyes deepened as he