Crowned and Moldering (2 page)

Johnny nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Even though I had a key to the front door, I gestured to Mac. “You go ahead. It’s
your new home.”

He unlocked the door, walked in, and looked around. I knew he was familiar with the
first – and second-floor rooms, but he’d never seen the whole place from attic to
basement. Mac had bought the house after barely half an hour of walking through a
few rooms and strolling around the property. That was all the time it had taken for
him to fall in love and make an offer.

“I had the power and water reconnected a few weeks ago,” Mac said, “so the lights
should work.”

“If there are still any bulbs in the fixtures,” Wade said.

Mac grinned. “Right.”

Wade flicked the nearest light switch and the foyer lit up nicely, thanks to the old-fashioned
chandelier hanging from the twelve-foot-high ceiling. “Oh, man. This place is awesome.
Look at all that mahogany paneling.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I ran my hand over the rich wood surface of the stairwell.
Unlike some Victorian entryways that were dark and narrow and barely had room to hold
an umbrella stand, this one was a large square, well-lit room. On one side of the
foyer was a double doorway leading into a paneled living room, and on the other was
an arched doorway that led to a formal dining room.

The broad staircase hugged the wall from the second landing down, until it curved
and widened to meet the parquet flooring of the foyer. Roomy staircases always made
me think of my father, who specialized in them because the old-fashioned, steep, skinny
Victorian stairways made him claustrophobic.

The ceilings of all the first-floor rooms were twelve feet tall with ten-inch-wide
crown molding, a picture rail below that, and carved plaster medallions in the centers
of the ceilings that created a base for hanging chandeliers. In addition, the dining
room had twelve-inch-high baseboards and a chair rail. Even though some of the crown
molding, the leaf-patterned cornices, and the stone corbels were crumbling with age,
the rooms had maintained their elegance. And we could easily replicate and replace
the damaged embellishments.

Sean walked over to the living-room fireplace and studied the mantel. “Holy moly,”
he muttered, running his hand along the smooth, highly varnished, six-inch-thick piece
of wood. “This is fantastic.”

Mac joined him. “From what I was told, it was taken off the ship that went down in
Lighthouse Cove Bay.”

Sean’s eyes bugged out. “Seriously? This is from the
Glorious Maiden
?”

“That’s what the guy from the Historical Society told me. It was part of the ship’s
bow. Apparently the Coast Guard members stationed here would occasionally find pieces
of the ship washed up on the rocks and were able to put some of them to good use.”

“Cool,” Sean whispered. “The fireplace is great, too.”

I agreed. Beneath the wood mantel, the chimneypiece was made of black marble and the
fender was cast iron. Whimsically painted tiles lined the jambs. The inner brick walls
were blackened from decades of fire and smoke. I thought the fireplace suited Mac
perfectly, giving the room a strong, masculine vibe.

“Let’s see what condition it’s in,” Wade said. He got down on one knee and bent over
to get a look at the flue. “Looks clear.” He reached in and fiddled with the damper.
“Seems to move well. I’ll make sure everything’s working once we’ve started the job.”

“Thanks,” Mac said. “I appreciate it.”

“Part of the service,” Wade said, standing and slapping his hands together to get
rid of the soot he’d gotten on him.

I wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling bay window at the opposite end of the room
from the foyer. It was one of my favorite features of the house and it faced north,
giving Mac a fantastic view of the coastline. The windows looked to be in good condition,
but, given their age, I suspected we’d have to replace the sashes and hardware and,
in some cases, the glass itself.

Wade went out to the porch and carried a card table into the house. He set it up in
the living room and I spread the blueprints out, rolling them backward a few times
to get them to lie flat. Now I’d be able to refer to the new prints anytime I needed
to.

I pulled out my tablet again. “If you’re ready, I thought we could start at the top
with the third-floor attic and work our way down. The only room I’ve really seen is
this one, plus the kitchen, although I didn’t stick around in there long enough to
make many notes. We’ll take another look before we leave.”

“Yeah, we’ve all heard about your adventures in the kitchen.” Sean snickered.

I groaned out loud. “Okay, fine. So I was freaked-out by a rat.”

Johnny blinked dramatically. “Rat? I heard it was the tiniest mouse ever seen in these
parts.”

“It was a rat,” I said through clenched teeth. It had indeed been tiny, but I wasn’t
going to mention that.

Johnny and Sean laughed at my expense and I finally had no choice but to join in.
What could I say? I suppose I was glad my guys were comfortable enough around me to
give me grief on a daily basis. I would’ve hated to have a crew that treated me like
the boss.

As we climbed the stairs, Mac talked about turning the attic space into another bedroom.
I thought that was a smart idea, even though the house already had six bedrooms. I
assumed the attic was a finished room since it had probably been used as a dormitory
bedroom during World War II, when the mansion was famously occupied by a group of
coastguardsmen charged with safeguarding the Northern California coastline from Japanese
submarines.

The stairs leading from the second floor to the attic were a bit steeper and narrower
than the main staircase. Back in the day, the attic might have been where the lowliest
servicemen bunked, or it may have been used as servants’ quarters. As a rule, no one
was very concerned over the help having to carefully maneuver down a scary staircase.

At the top of the stairs was a short hallway that ended abruptly. There was only one
door and it was locked. Mac used his key to unlock the door and jiggled the handle
a few times when he couldn’t get it open.

“I got it unlocked, but it’s stuck.”

“Let me try,” Sean said with a grin. “I’m younger and in better shape than you.”

Everyone laughed. Mac was in fabulous shape and only a few years older than Sean,
but Sean was the biggest, strongest guy on my crew. That was saying a lot, because
the men who worked for me were plenty sturdy. But Sean was my expert when it came
to demolishing a room with a single sledgehammer.

Mac stepped aside and Sean grabbed the doorknob with both hands, pulling as hard as
he could. He gave it a few more tugs before admitting defeat. “That door is stuck.”

Mac patted him on the back. “You gave it a good try.”

Sean stared at the door, scratching his head, unwilling to give up the fight.

I looked at Mac. “Do you mind if we break it down and replace it later? It’s probably
swollen shut from years of water damage so you’ll probably want to get a new one,
anyway.”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Might as well.”

“You’ll need a sledgehammer,” I said.

“I’ll get one from the truck,” Johnny said, and hustled downstairs and outside. He
returned in less than two minutes, carrying a sledgehammer and a powerful-looking
ax. He held them out and Sean, who had pulled his work gloves on in the meantime,
reached for the ax. Mac, Wade, and I moved quickly down the stairs and out of Sean’s
swinging range.

“Everyone safe?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, stepping out of Sean’s way. “Take your best shot.”

Sean lifted the ax and brought it down, splintering through the center of the door.
After three more strikes, the door was hanging off its hinges with wood shards everywhere.
He used the haft or handle of the tool to break up and push the remaining splinters
and shards of wood out of the way. Then he gripped what was left of the door and ripped
it away from the jamb, hinges and all.

“Okay, guess you’re a pretty strong guy,” Mac acknowledged.

Sean grinned and stepped into the dank, dark room. Johnny was right behind him.

Mac, Wade, and I scrambled up the stairs to join them, but before we could make it
to the attic door, Sean said, “You guys should check this out. Looks like someone
was living in here.”

“What the heck?” Mac was there in an instant, and Wade and I were right behind him.
“Oh, man. That’s funky.”

“Ick,” I said. We all stared at the dirty old mattress spread out on the floor by
the window. The thing sagged in the middle and there were unspeakable stains scattered
across the top. I didn’t want to think about all the bugs and bacteria crawling around
inside it.

I stepped farther into the room and looked around. Despite the lack of lighting, I
could see that the walls were nicely finished with lath and plaster, supporting my
theory that this room had been used as a bedroom or dormitory sometime in the past.
After I glanced around the dim space, my gaze returned to Mac. “I don’t see any sheets
or clothing or anything else besides the mattress. Do you?”

Mac had been walking the perimeter, checking the walls and windows. He stopped when
he reached the mattress. “No. I’m pretty sure whoever once crashed here is long gone.”

“There aren’t any closets up here,” Wade observed, and aimed his powerful Maglite
around the room. “Just the dumbwaiter.”

We all stared at the small cupboard door on the far wall. “Did you look inside?”

“I tried,” Wade said. “It must be locked. But, look, if you really care about some
ratty old sheets, we can check the basement. Maybe they tossed them down the chute.”

Mac nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “Are you okay? This is kind of weird.”

He shrugged. “As long as whoever was crashing here is gone now, I’m fine. But we’ve
got to get that mattress out of here. I don’t even want to think about what it might’ve
been used for.”

I grimaced at the possibilities.

“Johnny and I’ll drag it downstairs before we leave today.” Sean looked at the mattress
again and frowned. “As soon as I find a hazmat suit.”

“Thanks,” Mac said. “I’ll be glad to help.”

I made a note on my tablet about the mattress. And since we were up there anyway,
I got my guys to open the windows and check the condition of the shingles on the third-floor
exterior. I couldn’t see the gables clearly enough from the ground, so I would normally
wait until the scaffolding was in place. But this was a quick and easy way to get
a general idea of what, if any, damage would need repair. Also this window faced the
front of the house and featured a decorative cutout wooden panel on a narrow overhang.
Wade wanted to get a closer look at it.

Maneuvering to a sitting position on the window’s ledge, he leaned back to take a
look. “It’ll have to be taken down,” he shouted over the crashing of waves. “The wood
has a bunch of holes that’ll need to be filled, and the paint will have to be stripped
off and then reapplied.”

It was a small detail that would make a difference once the entire exterior was finished
and looking new.

“Okay,” I said, making notes. “Now come in off that ledge before you give me a heart
attack.”

After Sean removed the demolished attic door from its hinges and leaned it against
the wall, we moved downstairs to the second floor to explore the bedrooms and bathrooms
in depth. Wade ran down to grab the blueprint sheet for this floor, and we checked
it and made notes as we walked. The bay windows in the rooms facing west showed off
the spectacular ocean and breakwater views and allowed the afternoon sunshine in to
light up the rooms. The windows filled the walls and were beautiful—or they would
be once we’d fully refurbished them.

Every bedroom contained old, dark, shabby wallpaper that would have to be stripped
off, and the walls painted. I noted the places where the oak floor planks would have
to be replaced. The upstairs bannister would need a complete overhaul. As in the downstairs
rooms, many of the ceiling moldings and cornices upstairs were beginning to disintegrate.

Mac and I had discussed opening up the master bedroom, but a load-bearing wall presented
a complication. My thought was to join the master bedroom with a smaller bedroom next
door, opening the wall wide enough to allow a sizable passageway while maintaining
the integrity of the wall. The smaller room would be a sitting room—or, as he called
it, a high-tech playroom. Another small bedroom on the other side would become a walk-in
closet.

“It’s not like I have a ton of clothes,” Mac explained, “but I’d like the space to
walk around and see what I’ve got.”

Also, since each of the bedrooms had a maximum of two electrical outlets, I planned
to add at least a dozen more on this floor alone.

And it went without saying that every bathroom in the house would be redone from top
to bottom.

In the hallway, Mac stopped and studied what looked like another cupboard built into
the wall around waist level. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

He pulled on the small handle and the cupboard opened. “Is that a laundry chute?”

“Yes. Isn’t it great? I love those kinds of features.”

He stuck his head up close to the opening. “I can’t see farther than a few feet.”

“I assume it goes to the basement,” I said, “but since it’s underground, it’ll be
too dark to see anything.” I took a peek through the opening and ran my hand along
the interior. “This one’s made of wood, so you’ll want to replace it with a galvanized-steel
chute. We’ll add a self-closing door at the bottom to comply with the fire code.”

He grimaced. “The last thing I want to do is ignore any fire codes.”

An hour later, we had finished the second-floor walk-through and returned to the ground
floor. The good news was that we didn’t find any clothing or sheets that might’ve
been used by the person who had brought the mattress into the attic. But that just
led to more unanswered questions that would have to be investigated at some point.