Chapter 1
Genevieve
“You’re not moving in there,” my twin sister, Gabi, says with horror in her voice. “It looks haunted.”
I can already imagine the face she’s making just from the sound of her voice. I don’t glance over at her because I can see it in my mind, and I don’t want her negative assessment of my house to bring me down. I’m excited and I want her to be, too, but I also know there’s a lot of work to be done. Plus, she’s always a little more dramatic than me even though I’m sure she’d deny it.
I stare at my house, which I closed on this morning. This is why I never showed it to her to begin with. I knew she would try to talk me out of buying it. I see something more in it than she does. This house is over a hundred years old and full of history. Of course, it needs some love and care, so why can’t I be the one to give it to it? I broke the bank buying it, but I’ve got all the time in the world. I’ll have to do things slowly, but I’m ready for the challenge.
“This is what they call a ‘money pit,’” Gabi adds, reading my mind. We’ve been able to do that with one another since we were little.
“I’ve saved,” I defend, but her eyes narrow on me.
I fell in love with the house the moment I laid eyes on it. It’s a beautiful Georgian-style house with columns and a double front door. It’s like something out of a fairytale, if you can look past all the things wrong with it. I knew it would be a fight with my sister to buy it. Hence why I’m springing it on her like this. What’s done is done and there’s no going back.
We both turn at the sound a truck pulling up. “Oh my god. Tell me that’s not a moving truck, Ginny,” my sister pleads.
Her head drops back like she’s praying to the sky to find serenity.
“Maybe.” I wrap my arm around her and make her look at the house again. “It’s fine, Gabi. It needs some work, but look at the history,” I tell her.
“You and the freaking history,” she groans, making me smile.
Gabi and I are so much alike and yet so different. We might look identical, but she’s polished and I’m a little less than organized. Most people can only tell us apart from the way we dress. I’m more casual with sneakers and jeans, and Gabi doesn’t go anywhere without heels and makeup.
“You’re looking at it all wrong. Trust me.” I’m not sure which one of us I’m trying to convince. I mean, I know the house needs work and maybe I am in a little over my head. But I’m sure I can do this.
“You can’t sleep in there,” she says, her face scrunching up like she can see the dirt from out here.
“It passed the inspection.” Kind of.
I have the paperwork that gave it the all-clear thanks to my friend Mark who did the inspection. We both work for the city and I asked him to do me a solid. All I had to do was agree to go on a date with him—something I still need to do. He’s already texted me three times today about when we are going out. I keep putting him off and telling him I’m packing. I just need to pull up my big-girl panties and go on the date already so I can get it over with.
“You know everyone who works for the city.” Gabi stares at me, and I smile brightly, ignoring her.
“Come on, let’s go check it out.” We both know she’s right and I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing it out loud.
I lead her up the sidewalk to the porch. One of my favorite things about the house is that the porch wraps all the way around it. I can already picture window boxes of flowers hanging over the sides, giving the white house some color. Well, it will be all white once I can hit it with a few coats of paint. Though I think it might need more than that with all the peeling happening. I push that thought aside and focus on the parts I love.
The steps creak as we walk up. “Holy crap,” Gabi mumbles under her breath. “We are not telling Mom and Dad about this place.”
“Yeah, I was going to wait until I get it more together,” I agree. They moved to Florida a few months ago and are living it up down there. I’m not telling them yet because my mom is a worrier just like Gabi. She’d have her and Dad on a plane in minutes to make sure my new home was livable.