“Not at all. I’m prepared to see her looking as lovely as she did when she was first built.”

Her comment surprised him. “Have you seen pictures?”

“A long time ago.”

Before he could ask when, she started through the foyer, pointing to the front parlor. “I thought that room could be a combination living room and library. What do you think about bookshelves on a couple of the walls?”

He tapped the large case he carried. “You read my mind. I already have that design drawn up. Which leaves this as the main living area.”

They stepped into an oversize room about twenty-five by thirty. The ten-foot ceilings and crown molding added to the grandeur of the room. The hardwood floors were in need of refinishing but otherwise in good shape. On the right, bay windows let in morning light. To the left was the entry to the kitchen and dining room. A huge fireplace dominated the north wall.

Del pointed at the bricked opening. “That was imported from a castle in England. The stained glass in the dining room came from a chateau in France. There are bits and pieces of the world all over the house.”

“That’s one of the things that intrigues me about the place,” Rose told him. She paused in the center of the room, leaning heavily on her cane. “I don’t agree with the current construction philosophy that if it’s new it must be better. Sometimes what’s old has a unique charm that can’t be duplicated.”

“I agree.”

He noticed that her movements were slow and deliberate, the way they’d been the day before. He wondered if her disability was new-the result of an accident-or if she’d been born with it.

He grabbed a couple of straight-back chairs tucked in a corner of the room. There was also a folding table, flattened and leaning against the wall opposite the fireplace.

“Have a seat,” he said, putting the chairs in the center of the room, then retrieving the table. “Let me show you my plans.”