Dead End Street by Sheila Connolly Page B

you like something else to distract you?”
    Coming from Marty, that was always a dangerous question. “What?” I said cautiously.
    â€œI was going to bring this up anyway, before yesterday happened, but now is just as good a time. The Oliver mansion is up for sale. You know the place?”
    â€œI can’t say that I do. What is it?”
    â€œIt’s a late colonial house, built by a Loyalist around 1760, but he couldn’t hold on to his property during the Revolutionary War—the local patriots got kind of pissed at him and burned his main house to the ground. The one that survived was built for his son. Then his heirs bought it back, in the nineteenth century, and they’ve lived in it continuously ever since. The last two descendants, a pair of maiden sisters, are in their late eighties now. Still mentally sharp, but they’re not going to last forever. They want to make sure the old place doesn’t end up as a shopping mall or condos, and they’re looking for someone to take over in a custodial capacity. They’ll give it away to the right organization, along with about eight generations of the furniture.”
    â€œWow! Seriously?”
    â€œFor real. Interested?”
    â€œI don’t know how to begin to answer that. The Society is out of the real estate business, you know—or at least, we thought we were. We can’t exactly pack up and move to wherever it is. Where is it?”
    â€œMontgomery County. Not too far outside Philadelphia city limits.”
    â€œOkay, not convenient—our base is the city. I assume the gift is contingent upon keeping the property and maintaining it according to their guidelines?”
    â€œYup. You can’t sell it, and you can’t sell thefurniture—some of which is pretty nice, I might add—and fill it with stuff from IKEA. They’ve got a damn good lawyer, who’s going to make sure it’s in trust forever.”
    â€œAny money come with it?” I asked.
    â€œSome. An endowment that might—stress that
might
—be enough to cover taxes and insurance and keeping the lights on. But I think it’s safe to say that whoever gets it will end up shelling out some cash along the way.”
    â€œIs it something that would attract tourists? Historians?”
    â€œMaybe. If you marketed it right.”
    â€œWhich would then require money and staff time. Marty, what are you suggesting?”
    â€œThe sisters told me I should look around and find the right person or institution. I’m offering you and the Society right of first refusal. If you—we—don’t want it, I understand, and no harm, no foul.”
    â€œI need to see it before I make any decisions.” Hmm, the last time I’d said that, I had come to regret it. Still, it seemed unlikely that anyone out in Montgomery County would be gunning for me.
    â€œOf course. Tomorrow morning all right?”
    Once again my life seemed to be spinning out of my control, although this was decidedly more pleasant than the last round. I considered. There was nothing on my calendar of any particular urgency. A ride in the country might be nice, although the weather and the landscape were kind of uniformly gray and gloomy at this time of year. At least in that case I could look at the place with a jaundiced eye. If the lady heirs were now in their eighties,there were probably any number of maintenance issues associated with the house that they hadn’t dealt with lately, and it was important to take things like that into account. “Okay, I’ll look at it. I doubt it makes sense for the Society, but at least we could put some feelers about for other prospects. You want me to drive?”
    â€œNah. Have Jimmy bring you into town and I’ll take you from here.”
    â€œDo I need to dress up for these venerable ladies?”
    â€œDon’t wear blue jeans. You have pearls?”
    â€œYes, my