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As sunshine slanted through the front window of the three-bedroom, one bathroom, ranch-style home, Meredith Capybarabara watched dust motes dance in the light like glitter.

The bones could be seen, despite the smell and state of disrepair, and Meredith could imagine what it would look like when it was finished.

At one point, it probably was a gorgeous home.

The front entranceway could be transformed into a mudroom of sorts, a place for the family to take off their shoes and coats before they entered the main house.

Once inside, the warm fireplace would welcome them as they reclined under the domed living room ceiling.

A centerpiece of any home, the kitchen opened up into the dining room, allowing for conversation and food to flow freely between the rooms. Spacious bedrooms with excellent closet space, probably… the house could be beautiful.

Currently, she couldn’t see most of it, so she based her assumptions off the listing, since the stacks of sheer stuff towered above her head and touched the ceiling.

No fireplace, for instance, was visible whatsoever.

They couldn’t even actually get inside the house—the fireplace had to be less than twenty feet away—the amount of debris so great, even the camera crew stopped behind them, at a loss.

“As I was telling you,” Marshall Dobbs, the show’s host, explained in his terrifically cheerful and fake voice, “You’ll each select rooms once you’ve gutted the space.

In your chosen area, you can feature your personal style, and our panel of online judges, made up of our viewing audience, will decide who does the best job.

The winner will become the new owner of this house! Does anyone have any questions?”

“I do,” Jeremiah, one of the two construction brothers who ran a popular show on some home improvement channel, said, raising his hand as if they were in school.

“When you said we had to gut the house first, I assumed you meant pulling up carpets, removing subfloors, knocking out drywall, probably some electrical or plumbing work. This house is full of stuff —you want us to get rid of all of the stuff before we can even start working?”

“That’s part of the challenge!” Marshall said with a little enthusiastic fist bump.

“It’s a hoarder house,” Jeremiah said, again trying to make his point.

“Yes, exactly! Hence the title of the show—Hoarder Hell House Home Improvements! You have one month and less than twenty-thousand dollars to complete your remodel. The time limit is tight!” Marshall grinned at them each in turn, as if they would share his enthusiasm.

“We’re allowed to order dumpsters, right? Or will they be provided outside of the budget?” Bodie asked, chiming in for the first time since they got out of the van from the airport. “Are there laws against burn piles in this area?”

“ And you can auction or sell anything you want to sell,” Marshall pointed out. “So, despite your budget being twenty thousand, it could be more money, depending on the value you are able to gain from the contents of the home.”

His smile didn’t melt the sheet of ice coating the inside of Meredith’s throat.

For some reason, she assumed their accommodations would at least be comfortable while they worked on the project for the show, yet the house smelled strongly of both cat urine and rat fecal matter.

She reminded herself again of the prize—the entire house would be hers if she won.

With her magic, winning should be easy enough.

Actually, remodeling the entire house in a second would be beyond easy, if she could just use her magic, but she would have to be sneaky. ..

“I’m still willing to do it,” she said aloud, glancing at the three men who won the right to compete against her in the online contest. If they dropped out, it would mean no one there to see her when the cameras were off. “Are you still in, or is this a dealbreaker for you?”

Bodie grinned, his expression neutral and unconcerned. “For a house? In this economy and this neighborhood? Worth it.”

“I don’t know,” Jimothy began, but his brother nudged him hard in the ribs.

“We’re in,” Jeremiah said, speaking for them both.

“Great!” Marshall said, clapping his hands. “I’ll leave a single camera here for your first day, and good luck! Lunch will be delivered around one, dinner about six!”

Marshall fled the room as if the smell might follow him if he stayed a moment longer.

Meredith couldn’t blame him. If she could walk back out the door and not deal with the mysterious piles of boxes and clothing, she would.

But she could use the house—she needed a personal base of operations away from her family, and winning the competition would give her one in less than a month with zero lost investment from her savings.

It was perfect—except for the smell. “Where do we even start?” Meredith wondered aloud, glancing around the room, which seemed to have a singular path leading through the ceiling-high stacks.

“If we want a place to sleep tonight,” Bodie said, stepping over a stack and around her to follow the path, “We find bedrooms and start there.”

“He’s right,” Jeremiah agreed.

“Why would you agree to this?” Jimothy asked, nudging his brother back.

“Stop stressing. It’s a month. How much can go wrong in a month?”