He gave her that bad news, then explained her options, the pros and cons of electric heat pumps, gas, oil. BTU’s, efficiency, initial cost outlay and probable monthly expenses.

He imagined he’d do just as well speaking in Greek and offered to send brochures and information to her father.

“My father’s a composer and a college professor,” she said with cool politeness. “Do you assume he’d understand all of this better than I would because we have different chromosomes?”

Brody considered for a moment. “Yeah.”

“You assume incorrectly. You can send me your information, but at this point I’m more inclined to the steam heat. It seems simpler and more efficient as the pipes and radiators are already in place. I want to keep as much of the building’s character as possible, while making it more livable and attractive. Also, I’ll have secondary heat sources, if and when I need them, when the chimneys are checked—repaired if necessary.”

He didn’t much care for the icy tone, even if he did agree with the content. “You’re the boss.”

“There, you’re absolutely correct.”

“You have cobwebs in your hair. Boss.”

“So do you. I’ll need this basement area cleaned, and however authentic the dirt floor might be, I’ll want cement poured. And an exterminator. Better lighting. As it is, it’s virtually wasted space. It can be put to use for storage.”

“Fine.” He took a notepad and pencil out of his breast pocket and began scribbling notes.

She walked to the stairs, jiggling the banister as she started up. “The stairs don’t have to be pretty, but they have to be safe.”

“You’ll get safe. All the work will be up to code. I don’t work any other way.”

“Good to know. Now, let me show you what I want on the main level.”

She knew what she wanted. Maybe a little too precisely for his taste. Still, he had to give her points for not intending to simply gut the building, but to make use of its eccentricities and charm.

He couldn’t see a ballet school, but she apparently could. Right down to the bench she envisioned built in under the front windows, and the canned ceiling lights.

She wanted the kitchen redone, turning it into a smaller, more efficient room and using the extra space for an office.

Spaces that had metamorphosed over the years from bedrooms to storage rooms to display rooms would become dressing areas with counters and wardrobes built in.

“It seems a little elaborate for a small town dance school.”

She merely lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not elaborate. It’s correct. Now these two bathrooms.” She stopped in the hall beside two doors that were side by side.

“If you want to enlarge and remodel, I can open the wall between them.”

“Dancers have to forgo a great deal of modesty along the way, but let’s draw the line at coed bathrooms.”

“Coed.” He lowered the notebook, stared at her. “You’re planning on having boys?” His grin came fast. “You think you’re going to get boys in here doing what’s it? Pirouettes? Get out.”