“Cosmetic work?” Liv lifted a skeptical brow. “Girl, this is more than a hair fluff and a little blush and lipstick. This needs full-scale plastic surgery.”

A gust of wind rattled the windows, and the front door slammed shut, sending a sonic boom through the foyer and adjoining living area. They both yelped.

“Son of a bitch,” Liv said on a pant, her hand to her chest. “Totally unnecessary, House! Don’t try to scare us away.”

“Uh-oh, you’ve angered the poltergeists,” Kincaid said with mock seriousness. “You shouldn’t say mean things about the house.” She placed a finger over her lips and glanced up the stairs with a deliberate look. Then, she called out, “You look so pretty, darlin’. Like a new flower on a spring morning. Just the sweetest, most beautiful house on the block. All the other houses are so jealous.”

Liv nodded and announced, “The belle of the ball for sure!”

They both peeked upward as if they were expecting the lady of the house to descend the stairs and then laughed when they realized they’d actually waited for a response. Kincaid cocked her head to the right, and Liv followed her into the main living area. The floorboards creaked in protest beneath their feet. The living room was high-ceilinged and sun-dappled from the dusty light shining in through the tall windows, making it look like an Instagram filter had been applied.

“This place is big,” Liv said, her head tilted back to take in the ceilings.

“Especially for a house this age. Must’ve been a really large family.”

“And a wealthy one. I like this room.” Liv traced her finger along one of the windowpanes, leaving a streak in the thick dust. “Gets good light. Even with the dirty windows.”

“Yeah. This would be a fantastic family room. The house has six bedrooms upstairs and two down, so people with lots of kids or aging parents living with them could have all the space they wanted.”

Not that Bethany would need that since she was single with no children, like Kincaid. Instead of focusing on family friendly, Kincaid would play up this room as an entertaining space. Extra bedrooms could be pitched as potential dressing rooms, hobby rooms, guest rooms.

Liv snapped a photo of the fireplace, which was surrounded by stone and had a simple but beautiful natural oak mantel above it. “Could you imagine growing up in a place like this? I mean, when it was in its prime. I think my family’s entire place could fit in one third of this bottom floor.”

“It’s like something out of an old movie or TV show.” Kincaid could imagine a bunch of kids thumping along the floorboards, tracking in mud from the outside field, maybe a dog nipping at their heels. The images made her smile. They were of the fantasy family she used to imagine lived in those houses she’d pass on her walks home from school. The loving couple. The happy kids. Dinners shared together at the table. Books read aloud to children at night. She’d used to think one day. One day she’d be one of those people framed in the warm glow of those windows, have her own kids tracking mud across her floor, a loving husband waiting for her to get home.