IT WAS CHARMING: That’s what we thought at first. We were recently married, childless, and moving to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where we hoped to settle and start a family. The real estate agent, a George Lucas look-alike who smelled of cigars, walked us through.
“It’s the top two floors,” he said. “The owner used to live here, but he’s moved to Gloucester. Ayoung couple is renting the first floor.” He opened the door. “It has everything,” he said. “You’ll love it.”
Hewas right, on both counts. The housewas old (built more than 100 years ago, we’d learn later), but it did have everything: a claw-foot tub, a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and an island, a tiny office—hemmed in by French doors—where I could write. The owner turned landlord had been…