Not only did he trust Jay implicitly, but by now they also had worked together enough to respect each other’s artistic differences. Clearly Jay’s parents had a sense of humor. His full name was Jay Peter Morgan, sometimes also known as J. P. Morgan. About Garrett’s age, he was a great ox of a man. He had been losing his hair for some time now and was mostly bald. Perhaps as some form of hirsute compensation, three years ago he had grown a full, reddish-brown beard.

Best of all, Jay had a wonderful sense of humor. Although Garrett guessed that Jay had always been impressed with his credentials he had never shown it, preferring instead to continually harass him about being a nerdy professor. But Jay knew full well how competent Garrett was—not only as an architect but also as someone with a good working knowledge of everything needed to take on a job of this size.

Jay pointed at the leather tube Garrett had brought along. “Are those the floor plans?” he asked.

Garrett nodded. “Yeah, but they’re rough. I paced off each of the rooms and then slap-dashed these together, back at the office. They’ll do for a while.”

“Good,” Jay answered. “Then let’s get to it. I’d like to get home before I’m an old man.”

When Jay stood up and put on his hard hat, Garrett laughed again.

“It’s not that bad!” he said.

Jay smirked at him. “You have been in there, right?” he asked rhetorically.

Without further ado, the two men went inside. The stark, artificial light served to hauntingly accentuate the damage that had been done to Seaside. Jay looked around and shook his head. Like Garrett, he had long believed that a home—no matter how grand or how humble—deserved to be treated with respect.

“God,” he said while still looking around. “How can people do this to a house? It’s almost a sacrilege.”

“Stupid as it might be,” Garrett answered, “they’re angry as hell, and this is their only way to get back at the banks. I certainly don’t agree with it, but in an odd way I can almost understand.”

Jay had also brought along a folding table, which he had erected in the center of what would presumably become Seaside’s renovated parlor. Garrett removed the stones from his pocket then slid the plans free of the leather tube. After unrolling the plans on the table, he used the stones to keep the corners from curling up.

“High-tech,” Jay said.

“Works every time,” Garrett answered.

Jay looked around again. “This will be the parlor, right?” he asked Garrett.

Garrett nodded. “I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to this, but what’s the first step?”

“Well,” Jay answered, “luckily the basement and foundation are still in good shape. Before we tackle anything else I’m going to get my electrician and plumber in here. I don’t think we’ll find anything monumental, but don’t drink the well water until I’ve had it tested. After that, my crew will begin working on the outside of the house. The first exterior thing to tackle should be . . .”

While Garrett listened, Jay did an excellent job of outlining the entire project.