The House of Seven Mabels

crumbling plywood.
    Jane’s imagination ran away with her again. What a nice room this would be as an office. If she were doing this house over for herself, she’d cover the walls with bookshelves. Set up a desk going out into the middle of the room so she could work on her endless novel, or more likely the bill paying, and look out the front windows for inspiration.
    She mentally shook herself.
    Stop thinking this way, she thought. You’re possibly going to be the hired help, not the mistress of this old mansion.

Five

    Let me take you upstairs now,“ Bitsy said. “Wait,“ Shelley said. “I want to measure every room.“
    “No need to,“ Bitsy replied. “Sandy had an architectural engineer out and there are detailed measured plans for each floor, as well as the landscaping. I just need to go pick up a copy for each of you.“
    “Just the same, I want to measure for myself. It’ll make it more meaningful if and when we take on the job,“ Shelley said in her don’t-cross-me voice.
    “If and when?“ Bitsy asked.
    Shelley smiled. “We haven’t seen the contract yet.“
    Bitsy made a half gesture as if to slap her own head. “I had them with me yesterday and completely forgot to give them to you. Come on upstairs and I’ll fetch them as you leave. It’s a very good contract. You’ll agree, I’m sure.“
    Neither Jane nor Shelley replied to this remark.
    She led them up the right-hand curved stairway, which appeared and felt solid all the way up. Jane wondered if this were the single stable element of the house.
    When they reached the second floor, it was a total shock. There was only a tiny landing. The other side of the house was blocked off with very old plywood. They turned and looked down a narrow, dirty corridor with rows of dingy doors on both sides and an extraordinarily ugly, brown, worn cheap vinyl flooring on the hall floors.
    “I told you you’d be surprised.“
    “Surprised is hardly the word,“ Shelley snorted.
    “But it’s going to be lovely when we finish.“
    Shelley started walking along the hall, opening doors. The ones that weren’t stuck shut revealed tiny rooms, some still with grubby futons on the floors, or ancient bedsteads with disgusting mattresses. The rooms were hardly six feet wide. Trash had been swept into corners, and the floors were bare. Pegs were on all the walls for hanging clothes, instead of providing closets.
    “It was for druggies,“ Bitsy said. “And homeless people, I’ve been told.“
    “Someone set it up that way,“ Jane said. “The people who lived here didn’t build these partitions. Who owned this wreck?“
    “That’s hard to answer and the reason it stood vacant so long,“ Bitsy said, sounding extremely socially enlightened. “It had belonged to a series of largely fake Middle Eastern holding companies. I’m told there used to be a pair of enormous thugs who came by every week to collect the rents. According to the Realtor who eventually acquired the right to sell it, the thugs didn’t even speak English.“
    “Thugs with bulges in their jackets don’t need to speak English,“ Shelley said.
    “So how did somebody clear the people out?“ Jane asked.
    “The county zoning people relocated them. The drug dealers were taken to jail, their ‘clients’ were put in halfway houses, and the homeless were taken to shelters. When the thugs came back, there was nobody to collect from. The county got an offer to buy the place from someone in Romania.“
    Jane and Shelley exchanged a quick glance. This didn’t sound good.
    “I assume there’s a quitclaim deed somewhere?“ Shelley asked. “Does anyone know where it is and if it’s valid?“
    “The county register of deeds has copies,“ Bitsy said cheerfully. “I’ve seen it, and the Realtor, Sandy, and I are all satisfied it’s legal.“
    No mention of a lawyer’s opinion in that statement, Jane noted.
    Shelley went on opening doors without further comment. Jane took over on the other side of the hall. In one heavily used area, the crummy vinyl had been worn clear through, and a glimpse of a once-nice floral-patterned carpet showed through. Jane wondered idly why anybody would tack down what was probably stolen vinyl flooring over the carpet. Had one of the supposed owners considered renovating it someday? It seemed that someone had wanted to protect the carpet. How very odd, Jane thought.
    The doorway where the carpet showed turned out to be the only bathroom on the floor.