Crouching Buzzard, Leaping Loon(103)
“Yes, but I was hoping we could drive by and take a look at our house before we left,” he said.
“Our house?”
“Yes… I’ve got the house,” Michael said.
“House? What house? Not the one with the five-and-a-half-foot ceilings?”
“No - Ted’s house. Edwina Sprocket’s house. Home of the attack moose. I was going to surprise you - after you told me about going there, I put in a bid on it - and I got a message yesterday afternoon that Mrs. Sprocket’s heirs accepted.”
He was grinning from ear to ear, obviously waiting for me to shout with joy. All I could think of was the long string of zeroes at the end of the sale price.
“Michael, we can’t afford Mrs. Sprocket’s house,” I said. “I know what they’re asking, remember?”
“I got them to knock the price down,” he said.
“Knock the price down? Every house that’s been sold in Caerphilly over the last year has gone for fifty to one hundred percent over the original asking price, and you got them to knock the price down? How?”
“I agreed to take the house as is,” he said.
“As is?” My jaw dropped. For some reason, I kept seeing tiles raining down from the roof, although there were probably other areas of the house equally in need of complete replacement. Like the plumbing and wiring. And possibly the supporting beams.
“Yes. Oh, and we give them ten percent of anything we make selling the contents.”
“Selling the contents? ‘As is’ includes taking the contents?”
“Yes - apparently they didn’t want to take the trouble of having them appraised and sold.”
“Michael, were you listening when I told you what the place was like? How run-down it was? How completely packed with clutter?”
“Your dad says the family will all pitch in to help fix it up.”
Yes, I was sure they would, but I’d have a hard time thinking of any relatives I’d trust to hammer a nail in straight, much less do the kind of work Mrs. Sprocket’s house would require.
“And who knows?” Michael continued. “Maybe we’ll find some valuable antiques in the clutter. Apparently, your mother knows all kinds of appraisers and antiques dealers.”
Yes, she did, though her experience with them was almost entirely connected with buying hideously expensive objects, not selling household junk.
“She says she’ll come up and help.”
Come up and see if she could abscond with anything that struck her fancy, more likely. Never mind; she could have every antimacassar in the house as long as she took them away. And helped clear out the rest.
“You don’t seem happy,” Michael observed.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I said. “It’s going to be a lot of work.”
“It will still take weeks and weeks to clean up all the red tape,” he said. “Time for us to rest up in California.”
Yes, and possibly time for me to find someone we could hire to do some of the worst of the renovations and junk removal. If we could still afford to hire anyone after buying the damned thing.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll make it as quick as I can at Mutant Wizards, and we’ll go by the house on our way to the airport.”
Actually, I wanted to talk to Rob - I felt bad about just leaving him without formally resigning.
Of course, the first person I ran into was Doc.
“Great news!” he exclaimed when he saw me. “I’ve found George a place to live. It’s a raptor sanctuary - they have special facilities for injured or elderly birds. He can live out his life with dignity in much more natural surroundings.”
“That’s great,” I said. “You can take him anytime.”
“Small problem,” Doc said, looking sheepish. “He doesn’t seem to like me.”
Yes, George definitely didn’t like Doc. He shrieked whenever Doc tried to go near him. I couldn’t blame George. I think I’d dislike anyone who tried to throw me out of a second-story window, and for that matter, George had no way of knowing that Doc wasn’t responsible for the short, involuntary flight that had propelled him into Doc’s arms the night before. Doc looked crushed; he obviously wasn’t used to rejection by nonhumans.