“Easy enough,” he said, pausing to take in the backyard. The morning sun was behind them on the front of the house. The weeds already coming back to life had no problem with the shade. Rocky Mountain maples sprang up from waist-high grasses in a jumble of branches and buds. A pair of spindly looking hawthorn trees loomed too close to the house.

“Might take a few of these taller trees down,” he advised. “You won’t want a sequel to that one. Plus, a house this size needs a backyard kids and dogs can run around in. Do you have any? Kids or dogs?”

“Agreed. And no, I don’t. But the next owner might.”

“Big project for a flipper,” he observed.

“Biggest I’ve tackled,” she said, leading him out of the jungle to the north side of the house. “But scope doesn’t scare me, and I don’t want anyone on my team that’s afraid of a little—okay, a lot—of hard work.”

He stopped in front of her and placed a hand over his heart. “Maggie, I’m deadly serious when I tell you that Hard Work is my middle name.”

She shot him a look that told him he was definitely charming the hell out of her. “No. It’s not,” she said.

“Okay. Fine. It’s actually Andrew. But my motto is Work Hard, Play Harder.”

“Now, that I believe.”

“I’m your guy, Maggie.”

“Hmm. We’ll see. I’m less concerned about the backyard and more hopeful that a smart, challenge-embracing landscape architect can bring this area back to life.”

What had been a stately stone terrace was now about 167 trip-and-fall lawsuits waiting to happen. The retaining wall at the far end had given up on retaining and leaned into, well, just plain leaning. And then there was the fountain. Four huge horses, stallions if their equipment was accurate, claimed the center.

Dark, soupy water from the rains puddled at the base around years of nature’s seasonal debris.

In its current state, the fountain was a mosquito breeding ground at best. At worst, it would have to be completely dismembered.

“Wow,” he said for the second time since he’d arrived. Unhooking the tape measure from his belt, he turned his ball cap around backward.

“Uh. I don’t know how long it’s been since it ran, but I’d love to get it in working order,” she said, a hint of wistfulness in her tone.

Kevin bounded up to her, a tree branch clenched in his massive jaws. He spit it out at her feet and waited expectantly. Silas noted the tangle of roots and dirt on one end and hoped the dog hadn’t actually yanked it out of the ground. He was dirty from nose to tail, the bottom half of his pudgy body obscured with dark, fresh mud.

“Did you fall in a well?” Maggie asked.

The dog gave a happy bark.