CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO

After nine months of worry and stress, Rory has finally been able to sell the property. He finally takes possession of his new home today. He chose a shabby old house that would take him a decade to restore to living conditions.

'Come on, Darcy, hurry up. I can't wait to see it,' he calls up the stairs. I have never seen him so impatient as now, so I'd better be ready. I find it hard to share his enthusiasm for his idea; to me, it seems like a complete and utter failure.

About five minutes later, he leaves the main road and drives onto the property. It's just as horrible as I feared, yet he seems to notice something I'm missing. Stopping in front of a yellow stone structure, he exclaims, "Wow, look at this." The building, as it turns out, has some quite remarkable original sash windows. "It's airtight, wired for electricity, and plumbed into a nearby stream for water, but it's missing the gas hookup."

Do you feel up to the task at hand?

I guess it's too late if I'm not," he says with