An offer!

After we passed the second set of holidays without a nibble on our house-for-sale, the phone finally rang with the call we’d given up hope of ever receiving.

“We’ve got an offer,” our realtor told us in a strong, steady voice that communicated confidence. “Can I come over tonight for your signatures?”

“Yes, indeed!” was my happy response. They’d offered less than we wanted, but an offer of any kind had come to be what we wanted most.

Sitting on the edge of our dining room chairs, Nate and I studied the stack of legal papers. I was thankful I married a lawyer. “Just tell me where to sign,” I said, “and I’ll get the celebration coffee!”

Later, we once again gathered the children still living at home. “We got an offer on the house today,” Nate began.

“What does that mean?” Birgitta asked.

“It means we’re really going to move, but not for a few weeks yet. The people who are buying our house don’t have enough money, but they’re going to get it from a bank. That’ll take a while.”

And quick as a wink we were looking again into faces with teary eyes. Never mind that they’d known about the need to sell the house for nearly two years. Suddenly it was on top of them, and it felt awful.

“Give them a little time,” I reassured Nate. “They’ll come around.”

He and I decided to begin house hunting ourselves, flipping from being sellers to buyers. Where should we look? We had four more years before the youngest would be out of high school and had hoped to stay in the district. But if high prices in our suburb dictated a distant move, the last two girls could always go to the Christian school they’d attended through 8th grade. It might be a long daily drive from a distant location, but it would step around the problem of a new school. The girls had friends who still attended there, and they already knew the ropes.

Nate and I drove to the end of the train line he currently used to commute to downtown Chicago every day. Property values that far out were spectacular. We toured half a dozen homes, chatting excitedly on our drive home about the lovely possibilities.

Two days later, our daughter Louisa received a letter from a friend. She tacked it to the wall over her bed:

“I’m so sorry someone bought your house. I know how bad that feels, because the same thing happened to me. I’m here for you.”

The letter went on to empathize with Louisa’s crisis as only a good girlfriend can. Later, when I broached the subject with her, she burst into fresh tears, clenched her fist and shouted, “I hate those people who bought our house! I hate ‘em!” It wasn’t going to be a smooth family transition.

One thought on “An offer!

  1. I forwarded your site to Jim and Martye – they’ll relate well to this entry, as they moved to Richmond, VA when Steph was a rising senior at Crystal Lake HS and Jon a rising 8th grader. Steph had actually made plans to live with a friend’s family (unbeknownst to J&M) so she could graduate from CLHS. I am looking forward to the next installment! Please greet Nate for me, and keep a big hug for yourself! cmg