Excerpt from Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

On the moral side of things, Mr. Petrofaccio gave no opinion.

"But you're saying we would have to repair it first to put it on the market. And I've noticed about every fourth house in this town has a for-sale sign. They're all in better shape than this one, is that what you're telling me?"

"Twenty five percent, that would be a high estimate. Ten percent is about right."

"And are they selling?"

"They are not."

"So that's also a reason not to tear down the house." She realized her logic in this moment was not watertight. "Okay, you know what? The main thing is we live here. We've got my husband's disabled father with us right now. And our daughter."

"Also a baby in the picture, am I right? I saw baby items, a crib and all. When I was inspecting the ruptures in the ductwork on the third floor."

Her jaw dropped, a little.

"Sorry," he said. "I had to get behind the crib to look at the ductwork. You said you are looking to downsize, so I just wondered. Seems like a lot of family."

She didn't respond. Pete extracted a handkerchief from his pocket, mopped his face, blew his nose and put it away. He must have been braising inside those coveralls.

"That is a blessed event, ma'am," he suggested. "A baby."

"Thank you. It's my son's child, just born. We're driving up to Boston this weekend to meet the baby and bring them the crib."

Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Due respect, ma'am, people usually ask for an inspection before they purchase a house."

"We didn't buy it!" She wrestled her tone into neutral. "We inherited. We were in Virginia wondering what to do with some old mansion in New Jersey after my aunt died, and then out of the blue my husband got a job offer from Chancel. A half hour commute, that's too good to be true, right?"

"Your husband is a professor up there?" Pete's nostrils flared, sniffing for money maybe, engaging the common misconception that academics have it.

"On a one-year contract that may not be renewed," she said, taking care of that. "My aunt had this place rented for quite awhile. She was in a facility out in Ocean City."

"Sorry for your loss."

"It's been a year, all right. She and my mother died a week apart, same kind of rare cancer, and they were twins. Seventy-nine."

"Now that is something. Sad, I mean, but that is like a magazine story. Some of that crazy crap they make up and nobody believes."

She let out an unhappy laugh. "I'm a magazine editor."

"Oh yeah? Newsweek, National Geographic, like that?"

"Yeah, like that. Glossy, award-winning. Mine went broke."

Pete clucked his tongue. "You hate to hear it."

"Sorry to keep you standing out here. Can I offer you some iced tea?"

"Thanks, no. Gotta go check a termite damage on Elmer."

"Right." Despite her wish to forget everything he'd told her, Willa found his accent intriguing. Before this move she'd dreaded having to listen to New Jersians walking out the doo-ah, driving to the shoo-ah, but South Jersey was full of linguistic surprises. This Pete was the homegrown deal, part long-voweled Philly lowball, part Pennsylvania Amish or something. She watched him scrutinize the garage on the property line: two stories, antique glass windows, thick pelt of English ivy. "You think that building goes with this house?" she asked. "The deed isn't very clear."

"That is not yours. That would be the Stip House to the property next door."

"The stip house."

"Yes ma'am. When they sold these lots back in the day they had stipulations. Improve the property in one year's time, show intent to reside, plant trees and all like that. Folks put up these structures while they got it together to build their real house."

"Really."

Excerpted from Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver. Copyright © 2018 by Barbara Kingsolver. Excerpted by permission of Harper. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.