I’m fine, Richard. You spent your entire inheritance on a condemned house. He wasn’t even pretending concern anymore. Diane and I, we knew you weren’t thinking clearly, but this is beyond anything we imagined. You’ve essentially made yourself homeless. I have a house, Ellanena replied calmly. You have a death trap, aunt Ellena. That building should be demolished. Everyone in town is talking about it. You’re making yourself a laughingstock. Is there a reason you called Richard? He sighed heavily. the sound of a man dealing with a difficult child.
Look, it’s not too late. You can still sell. You’ll take a loss. Obviously, no one will pay what you paid for that wreck, but you’ll have something enough to get into Brookside and maybe have a little leftover. I’m not selling. Then what exactly is your plan? You can’t live there. You have no money left for repairs. You have no income. What are you going to do? Elellanena looked at the ruined house behind her, seeing not what it was, but what it had been, what it could be again.
I’m going to fix it. she said simply. Richard laughed. Actually laughed. You fix it? Aunt Eleanor? You’re 60 years old. You’re a librarian, not a contractor. That house needs tens of thousands of dollars in repairs, maybe hundreds of thousands, and you have nothing. I have time, Elellanena replied. And I have knowledge. That’s more than you think. This is insane, Richard said, his voice hardening. You’re being stubborn and foolish. And when this falls apart, and it will fall apart, don’t come crying to us for help.
Diane and I are done. We tried to help you and you threw it in our faces. You’re on your own. Richard, Ellena said quietly. I was always on my own. I just didn’t realize it until you made it clear at that dinner. So, thank you. Actually, you did me a favor. She hung up before he could respond. That night, Eleanor slept in the least damaged bedroom on the second floor on an air mattress she’d bought with her last $20.
She had no electricity, so she used a batterypowered lantern. She had no water, so she’d filled jugs from a gas station. She had no heat, and November in Vermont was cold, but she had her house, and she had her secret. As she lay in the darkness, listening to the old house creek and settle around her, Eleanor pulled out the architectural plans she’d carried with her, she traced the lines with her finger, measuring the spaces that didn’t quite add up.
