Red Delicious Death (3 page)

Meg exchanged a glance with Frances as they made their way up the front walk of the last place on the list, and Frances winked at her.

“Now, Nicole, Brian, I’ve saved the best for last,” Frances said. “Let’s take a minute to look at the exterior before we go in.”

They were standing in front of a square, solid brick building, once painted white, with a generous wraparound porch, perched like a setting hen at the higher end of the Granford town green.

Frances went on. “You’ve got a terrific site overlooking the town—you can’t miss it when you’re coming along the highway from the west. Imagine it lit up in the evening.”

Nicole and Brian looked out over the green. “Kind of small, isn’t it?” Nicole said.

“Granford? Yes, but we’re close to bigger towns, with easy access. South Hadley’s that way, Northampton and Amherst that way.” Frances waved at the two-lane roads that intersected in the middle of Granford. “You’re just far enough off the main road so that it’s quiet, with plenty of space for parking here, on the right side. What do you think?”

Nicole turned to Brian, who nodded. “Can we see the inside?”

“No problem. Listen, I can get you a really good price on this one. It’s been in the same family for years—the old couple living here wanted to stay in the family home, but they died recently and the heirs can’t be bothered with it. I think they’ll accept any reasonable offer.”

“They didn’t die in the house, did they?” Brian asked.

“No, of course not. In the hospital at Holyoke, a week apart. Kind of sweet, if you think about it. And they kept the place in really good condition—didn’t add too much either. So you won’t have to undo a lot.” Frances strode up the porch steps on the side and fished out a bunch of keys. “Ready?”

“Okay.” Brian and Nicole followed her in, with Meg trailing in their wake. She was looking forward to seeing the inside of this house herself. She’d been driving by it for months, and had noticed the “For Sale” sign out front, but she had more than enough to keep her busy at her own place, between the renovations she was slowly doing by herself—which would accelerate now that the weather was nice—and the work needed in the orchard. Meg listened to Frances’s spiel with half an ear while she studied the house. Nice square rooms, with reasonably high ceilings. Long windows opening onto the broad front porch. She tried to visualize the rooms filled with linen-draped tables, candlelight, muted conversation, and the subdued clink of glassware and china: yes, it might work. It would be intimate and warm in winter, and there would be a nice breeze through the windows in summer. For the first time since they had set out today, Meg felt a surge of optimism.

She tuned in to what Nicole and Brian were saying. “How many tables, do you think? What about the flow? I’d kind of hoped for a single space, not a couple of rooms. Brian, you’re going to be front—what do you think?”

He shrugged. “Smaller rooms might be more intimate. Frances, where’s the kitchen?”

“Oh, right—kitchen. I didn’t even think about that,” Nicole burbled. “I’m an idiot. I hope it’s not a dark hole in the back?” She looked inquiringly at Frances.

“Nope,” Frances replied promptly. “It’s in an L of its own, with plenty of space. Not much in there now, but lots of potential.”

As Meg followed the three toward the kitchen, she watched the chefs. They seemed to be thinking seriously about the site—they hadn’t even bothered to look at the kitchen in one of the places they had already visited. “How much were you thinking of investing in remodeling?” Meg asked.

Brian and Nicole turned to her, looking as though they had forgotten her existence. Nicole answered, “We won’t have a whole lot, after we buy a place. And we’re going to need to fit out the kitchen first—I want real quality appliances and all, you know?”

“Maybe you should talk to a professional. I know someone who does both plumbing and renovation, and I’m pretty sure he’d give you a good deal. That is, if you’re serious?”

They glanced at each other, then Brian turned back to Meg. “Maybe. But we could do a lot of the work ourselves. I’m pretty handy with a sledgehammer.”

“Why don’t you two check out the kitchen and I can give him a call, see if he can come over now. If you’re interested, that is.”

“Okay, sure,” Brian said, then followed Frances and his wife into the kitchen.

Meg turned away and hit Seth’s speed-dial number on her cell phone.

“Chapin Plumbing—oops, Renovation. Hi, Meg. What’s up?”

Meg walked over to one of the windows overlooking the green. “Are you doing anything right now?”

“I’m always doing something, but I’m in town, if that’s what you’re asking. What do you need?”

“Frances is showing some potential buyers the house at the top of the green. They’re looking for a restaurant site, but they’re probably going to have to put together a whole new kitchen. I thought maybe they could use a professional opinion before they got too carried away.”

“The Stebbins place? Great building, but you’ve got to be careful with that old brick. I can be there in five.”

“Bless you.”

Meg shut the phone and followed the sound of voices toward the kitchen, off to one side of the building. Even Meg could tell that some major changes would be needed to fit it out for restaurant cooking.

Frances was talking rapidly. “Sure, you’d have to tear all this out, but it’s great space, isn’t it? And set off from the dining areas, which will cut down on noise and odors. And the plumbing hook-ups are already in place.”

Meg cleared her throat. “I’ve asked that friend of mine to come over and take a look—he can probably give you a good idea of what would need to be done.”

“Cool,” Nicole said. “And thanks. What’s upstairs?”

“Three bedrooms—well, technically four, but the fourth one was probably the nursery when the place was built,” Frances said. “One bath. You have plans for the upstairs?”

“We thought if there was enough space, we could live in the restaurant building, at least in the beginning, while we’re getting set up. Can you show us?”

“Sure. Meg, you coming up?” When Meg shook her head, Frances went on, “Let us know when Seth gets here. Come on, you two—there’s a back set of stairs, which is perfect for what you want.”

While the trio clattered up the uncarpeted stairs, Meg wandered around the downstairs rooms. Even with a solid structure, it was a pretty safe bet that the house would need a major overhaul to turn it into a business—which meant a major outlay of capital. Did the kids have a clue what they were getting themselves into? And had they given any thought to zoning, permitting, a liquor license? Or did they only have pie-in-the-sky ideas about opening a nice place to eat? Meg wasn’t sure whether she envied them their youthful optimism, or pitied them for the rude awakening that undoubtedly awaited them.

“Hello?” Seth called out from the front of the building.

Meg went out to greet him, and watched as he approached, the usual spring in his step. She always thought that he looked like the original town settlers would have looked: compact, solid, competent. That wasn’t surprising, since the Chapins had been among those founders. And if anyone could steer the Czarneckis in the right direction, Seth could.

“What’s the story? Are they really interested, or just looking?” he asked her.

Meg shrugged. “I can’t really tell. They saw a couple of other sites, but even I could tell they wouldn’t work. I think they like this place, and Frances is giving them the pep talk. And as a plumber, you can tell them what they’ll need to do in the kitchen, which is pretty much a blank slate at the moment. And as a selectman, you can tell them about permitting.”

Seth held up a hand, grinning. “Whoa! First we’d better figure out if they’re serious. You think they’d be a good fit for Granford?”

“You’re asking me? I think they make me feel old.” Meg sighed.

Seth laughed. “Can it, Meg. You’ve taken on a lot of new things recently, so I don’t think you’re too stodgy yet. Let’s see what they’ve got to say.”

As Frances, Nicole, and Brian made their way down the stairs, Seth stepped forward to greet them. “Hi, I’m Seth Chapin—Granford resident, contractor, plumber, and selectman. You name it, I’ve probably done it. You’re thinking about using this place as a restaurant?”

Nicole’s eyes were brighter than they had been when she went up the stairs, Meg noticed.

“Well, it’s not definite, but it’s the nicest place we’ve seen, if we can get a deal we can afford. We know we’ve got a lot of expenses coming. Can you take a look at the kitchen?”

“No problem.” Seth led the young chefs back toward the kitchen, leaving Meg and Frances in what must once have been the front parlor.

“What kind of funds have they got?” Meg said in a low voice.

Frances grinned. “Enough. From what they’ve said, Nicole’s dad gave them a nice check as a wedding present, and they’ve been saving their pennies since. I’ll get them a good deal, if they go for it. I know the owners pretty well.”

“Are there restrictions on what you can do with a historical structure in Granford?”

“Some. We’ll see. I hope Seth doesn’t scare them off.”

“He’ll be fair. I’ll bet the selectman side of him would want this to work, but I don’t know if that talks louder than the plumber-renovator side.”

Nicole emerged from the kitchen alone. “Guy stuff. They’re talking about drains and venting.”

“You both plan to cook?” Meg asked.

“Oh, yes! We both love it—although Brian took more business courses than I did. And we’ve got another friend—he couldn’t make it today because he had some stuff to finish up in Boston, but he could be here by next week. He’s our sous chef. So Brian will take care of the build-out, and then later, the front of the house. I’ll handle planning menus and do most of the cooking, and Sam will deal with the vendors and prep work. We’ve got it all planned out.”

Seth and Brian emerged from the rear, still deep in conversation. Apparently male bonding extended to pipe chases and grease filters. “What’s your schedule for the job?” Seth asked.

“We’re aiming for September first. Are we nuts?”

“Depends. It’s doable, but it might be tight.”

Brian looked relieved. “Hey, you’re the first person who even thinks it’s possible. And Sam and I can do a lot of the unskilled stuff, if you’ll let us.”

“I could use the help,” Seth replied. “When are you going to decide on the site?”

Nicole and Brian exchanged a long look before Brian spoke again. “Cards on the table? We like this place. It has a good feel, and it’s in our price range. Let me talk to our mortgage broker, and maybe we can make an offer, say, tomorrow?”

They might be naive
, Meg thought,
but at least they’re decisive
. Frances looked like she was ready to weep for joy, and Meg had to wonder how many deals she had closed lately.

“You won’t regret it,” Frances said. “It’s a great town, good people. You do this right, and you can attract business from the whole area. You let me know when you’re ready to make a deal, and I’ll talk to the owners.”

“Thanks, Frances. And Meg, you, too—you’ve been a big help, and now you’ve put us in touch with Seth. I think we’re going to like it here.”

Meg waited on the porch as Frances escorted Brian and Nicole back to their car, talking a mile a minute. She was admiring the view when Seth came up behind her.

“Think they can make it work?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Maybe. I won’t say no. And the town will be happy to have them.”

“They’ve got a pretty tight timetable. Are they going to be able to get all the permits and permissions and whatever?”

“From the town, sure—one of the benefits of small-town government. They’ll have to take care of the liquor license, assuming they want one, and the state board of inspection, but I can probably walk them through that. Speaking of government, are you coming to the selectmen’s meeting?”

“I guess, if you want me to. What is it you think I can do?”

“You know something about municipal finance—maybe you can give us some ideas on how to generate revenue.”

“Don’t you have finance people in place? A treasurer?”

“Of course we do, but they don’t have your kind of experience. Please?”

“I said I’d come, didn’t I? And I’ll admit I’m curious. Most of the issues I’ve worked with have been for larger towns and cities. I’m not sure what will apply to a place this size.”

“Numbers are numbers—just whack a few zeroes off what you’re used to and it’ll be fine. Can I pick you up?”

“Sure. You want me to feed you first? Even though it won’t be up to Boston restaurant standards.”

“Sounds good. See you at six.”

Back at her house, Meg spotted her orchard manager—and housemate—Bree’s car in the driveway, but she wasn’t in sight.

“Bree?” Meg called up the stairs.