Portia sighed. “Something else to go on the list. Have the fireplace flue and chimney inspected and cleaned.”
Strips of the discolored paper were peeling on either side of the fireplace, no doubt due to water damage—there were water stains on the ceiling as well as mold in the corners.
Portia shook her head. “Your father and I weren’t here frequently, but this was once a lovely house, and it’s a shame to see it reduced to this.”
“I never saw it,” Quinn murmured.
“No, Addison extended an invitation to us only once after their father died, but we had to attend an official function and couldn’t make it. He took it personally and never invited us again.”
He sounded like a real asshole.
A curving staircase led up to the second floor. The treads were scuffed and dust bunnies collected in the corners. Beyond it was what promised to be a more casual living space.