Hope's River

by McHeyzer , Margaret

  “Yeah, it does.” Why would he help me? He doesn’t even know me. “Thank you,” I add, still unsure as to why he’s giving me his grandmother’s address. I mean, I could be a serial killer.

  “She’s expecting you.”

  “Thank you,” I say again. “Is there somewhere I can get a coffee?”

  Mr. Personality stares at me for another few seconds. There’s no sense of urgency around here. It’s like he’s moving in his own time zone. “Down the road, first left, then second right. It’s on the main street of the town. You’ll find a café that serves good coffee and even better pancakes.”

  “Thank you.”

  He tips his head once in acknowledgement and heads back toward his car.

  It’s so early. I hope the realtor is awake. Looking on the sign for the number, it has a lady’s name, Eleanor. Grabbing my phone, I dial the number. It rings once and a woman answers. “Hello.”

  Okay, this is weird. No introductions. “Hi, I’m calling about the house up on Clayton Street.”

  “Oh, yes. How can I help?”

  “It’s for sale. Can you give me a price?”

  “That house has been on the market for quite a while.” I figured that from the overgrown lawns, the falling wood siding, and the for sale sign that’s barely hanging on. “The family wants that house gone, and have said they’ll consider any offer.”

  Are you kidding? They’ll consider any offer? “Great, can you let them know I’m offering fifty.”

  “Oh, I think that might be a bit low. I can put it forward to them, but I think one hundred might sound more appealing to them.”

  No way. Even if I do all the work, and get Charlie down here to help me, I doubt I can rehab this house for anything less than fifty thousand. “Please pass it along to them and let me know.” Judging by the comps in neighboring areas, it’s not sustainable to pay a hundred thousand for the house, then invest another fifty thousand on rehab. Based on my research, there aren’t really many comparable properties in the Hope River area. Interesting.

  “Okay. I’ve got your number, so I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  “Great, thank you.” I hang up, get out of the car, and walk the perimeter of the house. I’m careful of where I step. Between the overgrown grass, and debris. I’m not sure what I’ll tread on. I want to go up the front porch and have a look inside, but the porch looks to be rotting all the way through.

  My phone rings, and I automatically know it’s the realtor. “Hello,” I say.

  “It’s Eleanor, I got in contact with the owners and they’ll be happy with seventy-five.”

  “Seventy-five?” I do the numbers quickly in my head, and although it’s not favorable, I might be able to make it work. “Okay. Let’s do this. Where do you want to meet?”

  “I can be out at the house at eleven. Does that work for you?”

  “It does. Thank you, I’ll see you then.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Hope. I’ll be waiting at the house.” I hang up, and make my way back to my truck.

  I need a bathroom, and a coffee.

  Following the sheriff’s directions, I head into town and find the local café. It’s still early, but thankfully it’s open. Looking around, I’m quite surprised by how quiet it’s here. There’s a general store on the opposite side and a baker next door to the café. Down the street I can see a huge clock tower and a garden with pops of color from vibrant flowers.

  I wonder what else there is here.

  When I open the door to the café, a small bell chimes.

  There’s no one here other me, and the woman working the counter. “Morning,” she says. Her hair is cut short, and it’s a brilliant, flaming red color.

  “Morning. Are you open for coffee?”

  “We are.”

  “Great. Is there a bathroom I can use please?’

  “Sure thing. Down the back, to the right.” She points to a corridor.

  I head to the bathroom, and pee. When I come out, I head straight to the counter, where one of the locals is now sitting on a stool. He swings around, looks at me and crinkles his brows.

  “What can I get ya?” the chick asks. I can’t believe I didn’t see her two full sleeves of tattoos. It’s not exactly something you could easily miss.

  “Double pump caramel, skinny soy with extra whip cream and no sprinkles.”

  The chick looks at me, and tilts her head to the side. “Darlin,’ you get filtered coffee, water or a milkshake. What do you want to drink?”

  “I suppose I’ll have a coffee.”

  “Sugar?”

  “Four please.”

  She stares at me again, and says, “Right, so you want diabetes, do you?”

  I like this chick. She’s busting my ass and I think we can get along. “Okay, how about two sugars?”

  “One black coffee with two sugars coming up.” She pours me a coffee, and adds two sugars to it. She pushes the coffee cup over to me. “So, you’re new in town.”

  Crap, is this town really so small that they know every face? “Yeah, I am.”

  “Passing through?”

  “Not exactly. I’m waiting for the realtor.”

  “Wait, you’re Hope? Of course, you are. I should’ve known.” The woman scolds herself for not realizing earlier.

  “Um, how do you know me?” Don’t tell me the sheriff has already started telling everyone about me.

  “I’m Eleanor,” she says with a huge smile.

  “Eleanor? The real estate agent?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty diverse. I’m the realtor, and own the café, and I help out down at the library when I’m needed.”

  “When do you have time?”

  She smiles, and wipes down the counter. “Usual, Murray?” she asks the old man sitting at the counter. He replies with a grunt. She pours him a coffee, and gives him a slice of pie. “Not a lot of houses get sold here. Actually, last one I sold was maybe a year ago. Once people come here, they generally stay until they die.”

  “Wow. Well I don’t plan on staying for that long. I’m looking to flip the house, and leave.”

  Eleanor smiles. “I’m glad you think you’re going to do that. Anyway, I need to go to my office and get the paperwork for Old Roger’s house.”

  “I’ll write a bank check for the sale of the house. Who do I make it out to?”

  “Seventy-five hundred to Wyatt County. The owners just wanted to clear the back taxes on the house.”

  “Seventy-five hundred?” I thought it was seventy-five thousand. Holy shit.

  Eleanor lifts her brows as she slowly nods. “If you want to give us more, then I’ll be happy to take it off your hands.”

  “Seventy-five hundred is fair.” Very fair. “Who owns the house? How long has it been derelict?”

  “I’ve had the listing for about four years, and it’s been vacant for at least a year or so before that. Old Roger owned it, and he passed away. Left the house to his sister, but she doesn’t want it, and none of her family want it either. It wasn’t in a very good state when he died, and they’ve defaulted on the land tax. They came out to look at it, but it’s in bad shape.”

  “Is that Old Roger’s house?” the old guy at the counter asks.

  “Yeah, Hope here has bought it,” Eleanor tells him.

  “Ha. You bought that old piece of shit? Good luck with it. You’re gonna need it.” He picks his coffee cup up, and sips it.

  “Where are you staying in the meantime?” Eleanor asks.

  “Um. Well the sheriff knocked on my window this morning.”

  “Jake?” Eleanor says, her voice cracking, and her cheeks reddening.

  “Is that his name? Jake?” She nods, and ducks her head. Oh, are they a thing? “He called his grandmother, and said I can stay there.”

  “His grandmother?” Eleanor looks to the old guy. He shrugs. “Oh, you mean Gran. She’s a nice woman. She’ll look after you.”

  “Elle, another coffee?” She
smiles at him and pours another coffee. “You eating too, Hope?”

  “Yeah, can I get some pancakes?”

  “The cook should be here soon, but considering you need to wait for me to get the paperwork for Old Roger’s house, you may as well make yourself comfortable.”

  “You know, while I’m waiting I might take a walk and see what there is in town.” Standing, I push the stool under the counter. “What do I owe you?” I take five dollars out of my back pocket, and push it on the counter.

  “On the house today. Do you want me to meet you at the house at eleven?”

  “I’ll come back here. I’ll go for my walk, then I’ll head over to see Jake’s grandmother.” I catch another weird look between Eleanor and the guy at the counter.

  Walking out, I head down the street. It’s still really early, so not many stores are open yet. The convenience store is open, and there’s a guy sweeping the pavement. “Morning,” he says as he glances up to see me approaching.

  “Morning.” I offer him a smile, but keep walking toward the clock tower. Looking around, I see a small hardware store. I cross the quiet street, happy to see the open sign. Walking in, I check out what they have and see if it’s going to be what I need to flip Old Roger’s house. They have a semi-decent variety and supply of everything, but I’ll need to source a few things for the interior.

  I reach for my phone, and see a ton of messages from Grady. “Yeah, not gonna happen, buddy.” I read the first message, and it’s filled with “sorrys.” I delete the rest without even bothering to read anymore. I scroll through my phone and find Charlie’s number. Dialing it, I bring it up to my ear. “Jesus, Hope, where the hell are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Grady called me last night, looking for you. Didn’t you check your phone?”

  “I just deleted all his messages and calls. Anyway, we’re over.”

  “Shit, what happened? All he said was he came home drunk, and you left.”

  I stop looking through the hardware store, and lean against one of the tower racks. “Really? I left because he came home drunk?”

  “Yeah. Where are you? Did you go back to Mom and Dad’s?”

  “He left out one major key element.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He hit me.”

  “He fucking did what?” Charlie’s voice rises in anger. “Where the hell is he? I’m going to find him.”

  “No, don’t bother. I took care of him.”

  “What happened, Hope? And where the hell are you?”

  “He came home drunk and was accusing me of cheating on him. He slapped me once, and when he went to do it again, I grabbed his balls and told him I’d mail them back to his mother.”

  Charlie huffs into the phone. “Where are you?”

  “I got on the road last night and headed north. I found a cute town, which is why I’m calling.”

  “You moving away, sis?”

  “Nah, I found a house to flip.”

  “Want me to get the team together?”

  “I’m actually thinking of bringing just you up. I want to get my hands dirty again, get in the thick of it. But I’ll find an electrician up here.”

  “What’s the supply situation like there?”

  “I’m in the hardware store now; it’s okay. I’ll send you the address, let me know when you’re here.”

  “I’m finishing up with Acacia Street today. Should be ready for sale early next week.”

  “Do you think you can get that ready for me? Call in the agent. I already told Grady he’s out, but I just don’t wanna deal with any more from him.”

  “Yeah, leave it to me. When do you want me to come up?”

  “When you’re done with Acacia. I’ll run the figures and comps tonight, and I’ll give you a call about it all. I want to leave all that down there, and just spend some time getting back to what I love best.”

  “Getting your hands dirty is what you do best.” Charlie makes me smile. “Send the address. I’ll get this project buttoned up, and let the team know we’re taking some time but we may need them on this project.”

  There’s a restless scratch in my stomach. I think it’s the way Charlie said project. I already have a connection to Old Roger’s house. The house itself speaks to my soul. And I have no idea why I feel so emotional toward it. “Okay.”

  “What did you pick it up for?”

  “Get this, I offered fifty, and they came back at seventy-five.”

  “Seventy-five thousand? Have you run the comps? Will it make money? How bad is the house?”

  “Here’s the funny thing. They wanted seventy-five hundred! And I suspect we’ll be taking it down to the studs.”

  “Seven-thousand five-hundred? Jesus, you sure it’s not a tear down and rebuild?”

  “I like the looks of it and I don’t want to tear it down. I’ll get a thorough look at it later when I get the keys.”

  “It has to go through closing, so it may be a week or so before you get keys. Tell me about it.”

  “Look, I have to go. But I’ll let you know how it all goes when I sign for it at eleven. I’ll send you some pictures too. Stack your truck with our tools. And whatever you do, don’t tell our parents about Grady, or tell Grady where I am.”

  “No, I won’t.” He takes a breath. “Do you need anything? Other than your tools, do you want any clothes or anything?”

  “I packed a bag last night, I have most of the things I need, and I suppose I can find somewhere to buy clothes.” I walk out of the hardware store, and keep going down the street. “The town is cute, but so small. But if I need anything, hopefully I can it find here or at least close by.”

  “Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Bye.” Hanging up, I keep looking at the stores that are beginning to open for the day. I get back to my truck, grab the paper the sheriff gave me from my back pocket and type the address into the GPS.

  Pulling into the driveway, I see the house is set on acreage. There’s a massive wrap-around porch with a swinging loveseat, and an outdoor setting near the front door. There are cute blue shutters on the windows, and a gray gable roof and crisp white paint on the house itself. The land all around the house is perfectly manicured.

  Parking my truck, I get out and walk up to the house.

  An older lady opens the front door, and steps out. She’s wearing an apron, and has her hair tied back in a loose bun. “You must be Hope,” she calls out as I approach her.

  “Hi.” I smile. Walking up the wide steps, I extend my hand to her. “Hi, I’m Hope. Um, the sheriff said I could stay here for…”

  “That’s right. Jacob did call me,” she says, cutting me off. “I’ve got a room you can use. Follow me.” She walks down the steps, turns to the right and rounds the house. I follow. “How long are you here for?”

  “I’m looking at buying a house.”

  “Here? There’s no houses for sale. People don’t leave here once they’re here. It’s a small community, and everyone knows everyone.”

  I’m gathering that. “It’s the Old Roger’s house.”

  She stops walking, and turns to look at me. “That old house?”

  “Yeah, I saw it, and I bought it.”

  “You do know that’s an old house?” she asks as if I haven’t seen it. She’s pretty sprightly for someone her age.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  “Pffft. What’s this ma’am business. My name’s May.” She starts walking again, reaches the stable, takes a key out of her apron and unlocks the door. “Well, girly, that house is a handful. But here’s the room.” She steps aside waiting for me to enter the room.

  “Wow,” I say. The stable room is quite large, with a completely self-contained kitchen to the left of it containing a small dining table with chairs, and a living area to the right. “This is nice.”

  “First door on the right is the bedroom, and the second door is the bathroom. The sofa folds out to a full-size bed.”

>   “Thank you.”

  “Now.” She turns to look at me. “I see you have a bruise on your face, is the giver of that going to be showing up here? If so, do you need my gun?”

  I smile. “No, not at all. It’s not like that.”

  “I want no parties here. No strange men.”

  “My brother will be arriving soon. Maybe by the end of the week, or early next week. Can he stay with me?”

  There’s a long pause before she smiles politely. “I want to meet him before I say yes.”

  Fair enough. I can’t ask for any more than that. “Of course,” I say.

  “Rent is due on the first of the month. If I like your brother and want him here, then rent will be twenty percent more to accommodate for his use of utilities.” Talk about shrewd.

  “That’s reasonable.”

  “If I don’t like him, he’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.” She’s blunt and to the point. At least I know where I stand with her. I give her a curt nod. “What is it you do?”

  “I flip houses.”

  May screws her nose. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  No one’s ever asked me before. It takes me by surprise. “Because I love working with my hands. And I’m good at it.”

  May’s mouth contorts. “So you’re going to restore Old Roger’s house?” I nod. “I hope you keep its character. I wouldn’t want to see it replaced with one of those modern, fancy-pants buildings that won’t belong here.”

  I like May. She’s traditional, yet spunky. She’s not afraid to speak her mind, and I respect that. “I’d like to see what I’m working with first. Did you know the owner?”

  “Everyone knew Old Roger. He was here all his life. Died about eight years ago I think. He was very well respected in the town. We hold a celebration for him every year.”

  How sweet. “I promise, I’ll do my best to honor his home.”

  May steps forward, gives me the key to the stable, and turns to leave. “I expect you’ll be tired tonight. Dinner is served at six sharp tomorrow, I’ll see you there.”