Core Beliefs - Chapter 14 - The Big House

Core Beliefs – Chapter 14 - The big house

It was an eight-hour drive for the Martins from St. Louis to Wichita, with multiple stops, and the kids often asking if they were there yet. Chris checked the family into a Wichita hotel, and Charlotte called the realtor representing the property she had targeted to confirm a meeting time.

***

Around 9:30 Saturday morning, Chris turned the car through the arched gate at the entrance to the rural property. The gate was in disrepair. The supporting pillars showed their age. A long gravel drive lined with maple trees gradually climbed the hill toward the house.

Winter weather left the trees leafless, but the ground beneath was covered with fallen foliage, indicating the trees were alive. The trees had grown through the years and now arched over the driveway. It was obvious nothing had been pruned for a long time.

The house had been visible from the highway and looked large, but as they neared the end of the drive, its true size came into focus.

It was an older house, built in the 1950s with a red brick exterior, two stories, and, as Charlotte understood, a full basement and a large, finished attic. The photos on the realtor's webpage showed the many rooms, large spaces, and also revealed the building had focused on size over substance. The finishes were subpar.

Large round columns spaced across the front supporting a balcony over the porch, with a second-story balcony running the length of the southern colonial mansion.

“Wow!” Jason’s eyes rounded as they pulled to the front of the house.

Janet was bouncing excitedly in her seat.

“Look at the symmetry and the golden rule proportions.” Chris leaned forward over the steering wheel to get the best possible view.

“No one smiles when we get out of the car,” Charlotte said firmly.

Chris recognized that his wife had transformed into business mode, and everyone’s best move was to become invisible.

The realtor welcomed them eagerly. Charlotte had told Chris the estate had been listed for almost two years with only a few legitimate lookers.

As the realtor escorted them across the porch, Charlotte noticed some rot on the porch and the pillars. The trim seemed to be in decent shape if one looked past the cracked and peeling paint. Charlotte paid particular attention to the mortar in the bricks. It looked sound, except in a few places near the corners.

Charlotte was glad to see that there were no cracks in the masonry, which would have indicated that the house had settled or shifted.

The realtor unlocked the door, and they stepped into the soaring foyer, wide and high, perfectly suited to such an elegant home, even if it showed the signs of time’s neglect.

There was an impressive chandelier, and on either side of the entry, lovely, long, curved stairways led up to the second-floor landing. The walls had been painted, and it was obvious that the paint had been applied over wallpaper, which in turn had bubbled and, in spots, peeled away.

Charlotte looked closely for signs of water damage and scrutinized the wood floors to make sure there was no undue warping.

The realtor guided them through the house. The kids constantly chatted in hushed whispers. Chris remained quiet, letting Charlotte drive the process. After all, Chris knew that Charlotte’s dad had been a general contractor, and she had grown up around construction projects, including many houses.

Her dad had hoped she might go into the business and taught her everything he could. It was a sad day when Charlotte told him that she wanted to study something else, but he gave her his support and blessing, which made it much easier for her.

As they went through the house, Charlotte asked questions about when changes had been made. The realtor was only familiar with things done over the last few years.

Chris got the sense that Charlotte was building a ledger of good versus bad, with emphasis on the negatives.

He almost interrupted once to put a positive spin on something, but stopped as the hairs on his neck stiffened, and a steely stare from Charlotte warned him to keep his mouth shut.

The realtor advised that the house had been unoccupied for five years, following the passing of the previous owner.

***

“So, why so long to get the property on the market?” Charlotte asked.

The realtor hemmed and hawed about the bank and family being at odds over the resolution of debts.

Charlotte filed the disclosure in her memory.

From what she had seen, the asking price was too high.

The realtor led them through every room until they were back in the foyer.

***

“I am representing a third party,” Charlotte said to the realtor. “Therefore, I need to do due diligence to make sure the property is fully evaluated. I will need time to complete my inspection. Stay if you want, or come back at 2:00 in the afternoon.”

“I’m not supposed to leave people alone on the property,” the realtor said.

“Take a look around us,” Charlotte motioned to the bare walls.

“There is nothing here of value. I promise there will be no damage added while you’re gone,” Charlotte said.

She could tell the realtor was nervous.

“I do have another appointment,” the realtor said. “I have your word that you are serious about acquiring the property?”

“We have driven from St. Louis,” Charlotte said. “The property has potential, but I cannot make commitments on behalf of my client until my review is complete.”

“Okay, I’ll be back after two. Lock the door if you leave before I return.”

“Agreed,” Charlotte smiled at the middle-aged man. They shook hands, and he left.

“Okay, kids, you can explore, but be careful; don’t bust anything.”

“I think I’ll check out the outside,” Chris said.

He headed for the front door. The kids raced up the stairs. Charlotte went to the basement. Her dad’s lecture, ‘Everything starts with the foundation,’ came to mind.

Inspecting every nook, room, and closet, she had a bonus surprise.

“What have we here?” She had found a complete set of blueprints in a storage closet near the crusted, rusted boiler.

She glanced through them quickly and decided to take them to the car. She could review them later. If they didn’t take the property, she would return the plans to the realtor, but deep in her gut, a sensation was buzzing. She’d not felt it for years. The sensation reminded her that what she was doing was important.

Charlotte worked her way through every room, making notes in her padfolio of everything: the age of the fixtures, the electrical outlets, the number of light bulbs, the condition of the bathrooms, and the dated appearance of every room.

It was clear that the last changes in appliances and plumbing had been in the seventies. The harvest gold fixtures and open pilot gas stove were signs of those times.

Several times while taking her inventory, the kids would dash through laughing. It brought a smile. There was a good sensation despite the faded walls. There was a soul to the place. There was value to be had. She hoped they could make a deal, but as her father’s daughter, she would not spend money based on sentiment.

As Charlotte finished the second floor, Chris came up the stairs and told her that the garage would hold four cars and was in pretty good shape. However, unlike the house, the tile roof had been replaced with an asphalt shingle roof, and it was starting to show its age. He said it looked like there had been some water damage, but it appeared to be old, probably before the shingle roof was put on. He figured the roof replacement was probably in the 1970s as well.

Together they ventured into the attic. It had five rooms and some lovely window seats, but the sun had damaged the varnish, and she found signs of dry rot in one of the closets.

As Charlotte finished, Chris asked what she thought about the place.

“It has potential, but it also needs a ton of work.”

She had a long list to review with the realtor when he came back.

Charlotte had finished examining the exterior and then went through the garage and a small workshop located behind the home. She also noted that they were on a well and septic system that had probably not been serviced in many years.

About ten after 2:00, the realtor returned and parked his car. Charlotte waited in the foyer while Chris kept the kids outside.

For almost forty minutes, Charlotte verbally demolished the house. Point by point, she covered every defect and substandard aspect. She quoted the dollars it would take to begin making the house livable and had the poor man wondering if the roof was going to fall while they stood there.

When she finished, she asked him to confirm the price. The realtor stated that the house and 26 acres of land were listed for $450,000. Charlotte penciled numbers down on her pad until she wrote a final figure at the bottom of the page.

“Our offer is $315,000.00. We will pay in cash and cover the closing costs.” An important element because it meant the seller would incur no additional expenses, and no financial institution would be involved.

“Your offer is much too low,” the realtor said.

Charlotte knew the housing market was depressed. The realtor was probably fighting to preserve his commission.

Charlotte sensed the man was pondering things over and decided to go for the jugular. She took the paper back from the realtor, folded it, and placed it in her notebook.

“I need a decision by five this afternoon,” looking at him. “We both know that if you don’t sell this house now, it may be years before you get a valid offer, and you will never get this money for it.”

She gave him her cell number and told him they were going to look at other properties.

The effect had the desired impact. Charlotte walked out the door. The realtor hustled behind her, promising to reach the owners and present her offer.

“Very well, I will expect to hear from you by five.” Charlotte slid into the car.

“Well?” Chris asked.

“Patience, my dear, he’s hungry, and the house won’t move in this market, so I think they will be willing to negotiate. All things considered, I have made a fair offer.”

On the way to the hotel, Chris spotted several newspaper boxes at a small convenience store. One labeled “Properties for Sale and Rent.” He tugged the wheel right, parked, and stepped out to get a couple of flyers.

By coincidence, as he walked back to the car, the realtor drove by, his cell phone to his ear.

He must have seen Chris holding the flyers and realized what he was doing. His tires drifted off the pavement before the realtor jerked his car back on the road.

Chris handed the real estate guides to Charlotte. “If not that house, we still have to find a place.”

Charlotte started thumbing through the for-sale ads.

Both kids chattered about how neat the house was. Jacob loved the big yard, and Janet loved the view from the attic. Back at the hotel, they decided to stay another night and check other properties on Sunday.

It was 4:30 when Charlotte’s cell phone rang. The realtor had reached the owners. They felt the price was too low and countered with $365,000. Charlotte told him she had made a fair offer and that if they wanted to sell, the price would be $315,000 and no more. They had until five to accept the offer.

She hung up and looked at Chris. “He’s sweating. He knows he won’t have another chance to sell it before summer.”

She smiled and settled back with the real estate guide, looking for other properties. She found a large, one-story, five-bedroom house that could be okay, at least for a while. It was for sale or lease.

At 4:45, her phone rang again. She picked it up, hearing the realtor’s voice at the other end.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I thought it might be someone else.”

He said that the owners were prepared to come to $330,000.

Charlotte paused for a moment. “I think I will see what the final offer is on the property on Elsberry Street.”

Evidently, the realtor was familiar with the property and knew it was under $270,000; if she was really interested in it, then he was out of the picture. He asked her for one more chance and then hung up the phone.

Charlotte wished she could have listened to the conversation between the realtor and the owners. It must have been intense because at 5:04 her phone rang. The realtor said the owners agreed to her price if she paid cash and the closing costs.

“Prepare the documents, and I will have my attorney review them,” Charlotte said.

“Lawyer?” Chris mouthed.

“Joe,” Charlotte mouthed back.

“I will have the documents ready Monday afternoon,” the realtor said. “I can email them to you.”

“Very well,” Charlotte said. They hung up.

“Well, we have a house,” she said, “but we need a place to stay until it’s ready to live in. The way I see things, it will take at least eight months to get it ready.”

***

“Let’s call Matt and let him know.” Chris said.

When Chris gave Matt the details, Matt started laughing and said he was going to have her negotiate all his business transactions.

On Sunday, they drove by the Elsberry property, and both Charlotte and Chris agreed that leasing it while the big house was being refurbished would work quite well. Charlotte called the agent for the Elsberry property and left a message.

Driving home, they listened as the kids claimed rooms and how they wanted them decorated. Charlotte had her ideas, and she had a full set of plans. Somewhere deep in her being, that sensation, the one that had, at critical moments of her life, confirmed she had done the right thing, hummed contentedly.