While I cried everytime the house was mentioned, my husband began finding out about the property. He was standing in the yard below the house one afternoon as an old man on a tractor came down the road. Bob waved and the man stopped. Bob asked him if he knew anything about the house. “Yep” was the response. Okay, Bob thought. “Well, do you know who owns it?” Again came the short response – “Yep”. “Well, can you tell me who?” “Yep – my boy.”
Finally Bob was able to get the name and phone number from this man, who became a good neighbor to us. He was a good Southern Baptist and would stop on his tractor on hot summer days, to share a quick beer with Bob. His wife would never know about those beers, I’m pretty sure.
Bob negotiated the contract with the son. I cry. We met at the attorneys office in Rogers one warm, sunny early Spring day and it was ours. I cry.
In between the tears, I told Bob – in very specific terms – that I would not step foot in the house until all the garbage was gone.
And we had a deadline. Bob had given notice to our landlady and we were to be out of our cozy little rent house in six weeks.
SIX WEEKS! – Let the fun begin!
To be continued…….