Free The House That Jack Built by Graham Masterton

us. Do you think Valhalla could make us happy?'
        Norman raked his hair back from his forehead with both hands, and shrugged. 'For a while, I guess. But there you go. It's just like my mom says. Happiness has to come to an end sooner or later, otherwise it isn't happiness.'
        

SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 12:36 P.M.
        
        Norman followed them up the track, only two or three feet behind their rear bumper. His silencer was holed, and his engine burbled so loudly that Craig and Effie could hardly hear themselves think, let alone talk.
        'You look annoyed,' Effie shouted.
        'I would have preferred it if we could have looked around the house on our own.'
        'Norman seems okay. A little eccentric.'
        'A little eccentric? A guy who thinks that a balanced diet means eating food in complementary colours?'
        Effie laughed. Although she was perplexed by Craig's extraordinary itch to look at Valhalla, she was pleased and relieved by the way in which he seemed to be relaxing. Maybe that was what he needed - a diversion, something else to think about apart from Japanese businessmen and anti-trust suits and nightmarish 'accidents' with hammers.
        'Do you know something. I forgot how spectacular the Highlands can be,' said Craig. 'Especially in this weather. Look at that lightning, down in those valleys. Spectacular.'
        'You wouldn't like to live here, though, would you? You're a city boy. You always said that lightning striking the Empire State was spectacular.'
        'Well, you know what they say. Home is where the heart is.'
        Effie shrugged. She was irritated, in a way, that Walter Van Buren had sent Norman to meet them, because Norman would give Craig all kinds of ideas about restoration and what it would cost. Walter Van Buren might have appeared soft and colourless and laid-back, but it was obvious that he hadn't been selling million-dollar properties up and down the Hudson River Valley for thirty-eight years without learning quite a lot about the psychology of realty, and which houses virtually sold themselves, and to whom, and why. But maybe it was a good thing, in a way, because it would give Craig something to take his mind off his 'accident'.
        They would never be able to afford Valhalla, not by any stretch of the bank balance, even if its previous owners had kept it in habitable condition; and she didn't think for a moment that Craig would seriously want to make an offer for it. But if it occupied his attention for a week or two, if it helped to restore his masculinity and his sense of pride, then she was happy to go along with it.
        She didn't understand why Valhalla interested him so much. He didn't understand it himself, not yet. He had never imagined in his whole life that he would want to live in the Hudson Valley Highlands; and he had warned plenty of his own clients against overstretching themselves when it came to buying property. Too many of them had lost their houses in the late '80's. His best friend Josh Marias had lost a beautiful waterfront property in East Hampton, along with his equally beautiful wife.
        Maybe the wild and isolated setting appealed to him; and the name Valhalla, hall of dead heroes; and something else - something as strong as hunger or thirst or sexual desire. It was the feeling that you had to be a man to live here, king of the mountain. Rich, successful, and smouldering with self-esteem. You wouldn't have to go out looking for the world. The world would come looking for you.
        Craig, annoyed as he was that they hadn't been able to view Valhalla alone, wasn't altogether displeased that Norman was here. Norman could show Effie that Valhalla was not just a dream but a practical possibility. Norman could tell her in dollars and cents.
        If Norman could work out a bare-bones budget which Effie could accept, then later he could add some of those luxury items which the grand mansions of the