Chapter 9 #3
Mr. Bigsby laughed heartily. “I’m cooking my rear end off, then.
” His smile faded, and looked from his hand resting on the table to Clay.
“My Cora thinks we’re still newlyweds. She doesn’t know that we’ve been married for more than fifty years.
We’re actually pushing sixty years about now.
There was a time it hurt my heart that she doesn’t remember, but then I realized it’s a blessing.
She doesn’t have to remember the struggles.
In her heart, we’re still full of hope, can barely stand ourselves from all the love and the hope that we live with every day.
And she doesn’t have to know that we never were able to fill this house with love.
I’m not looking forward to having to explain to her that we left this place once we arrive in Florida. ”
“Why Florida?” Clay asked.
“Seems like the thing to do. Retirement community. Excellent medical facilities. Sunshine. People to take care of everything. Except Cora’s daily needs. I’ll always do that — nobody else.”
“Mr. Bigsby, according to my research and my calculations, this place is worth just approximately 1.4 million dollars. And that’s a conservative estimate depending on what the house and all the structures and machinery on hand appraise for.”
“Sounds about right.”
“I was prepared to hand it all over to you. But now I have another idea.”
Mr. Bigsby raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”
“What if there was a way to allow you and Mrs. Bigsby to stay in your home, on this property?”
“I don’t see how that’s a possibility, son.
We just can’t take care of it anymore. And I need to move Cora to a place that’s closer to people for when issues come up.
I can’t ignore the fact that issues are going to come up and I’m old, too.
We’re both in our eighties. It’s inevitable that something will happen and I’ll need help getting her professional help. ”
“I’ll pay you rent every month in whatever amount you feel is fair.
Harper and I will build a manufactured home in the front field that I cut today.
A small one, a two bedroom, one, maybe one and a half bath.
It’ll be a cottage really, and the walls are delivered premade.
They go up quickly, but still sit on a cement pad every bit as much a regular house as this one. ”
“I’ve seen them,” Mr. Bigsby said. “It is a regular house. The bones of it are just built in a factory.”
“Yes, sir. And we’ll pay to have it built, we’ll live there. We’ll take care of this place, and we’ll take care of you and Mrs. Bigsby. We’ll get you to whatever medical appointment and care is necessary. Eventually, it will go to us.”
“Why would you even consider that?”
“It just makes sense. You and Mrs. Bigsby get to stay in your home. Harper will have the dream she hopes for which is to be here, working and living. And nobody will be able to buy it unexpectedly. You and Harper and I all get what we want, and nobody has to make concessions.”
“I’ve never even considered such a thing might be possible.”
“I didn’t either, until I saw that it’s needed.”
Mr. Bigsby sat quietly, his arm resting on the Formica top of the kitchen table they’d just had dinner on.
Finally he tapped his fingertips on the tabletop three times in a row as he looked confidently at Clay.
“Not without a contract to clearly show that this place is yours from the git go and we’re living on your property.
I won’t have you paying us rent if you’re already functioning as its owner and taking care of us, too.
We got social security coming in, and we’ve got Medicare, and we can make do on that if you’re covering the rest.”
Clay sat back in his chair and thought about it. “How much do you want for it?”
“Not much at all. Only what the house and the structures are worth. The land will be a gift.”
“No, sir. That’s not fair to you.”
“It’s more than fair. You’re taking on a burden that was never yours to shoulder.”
“It’s not a burden. You’re family to Harper. She confided in me that you lost your child. There’s no one else for you to lean on. So, we’ll step in and gladly take care of you.”
“You don’t even know if she’ll have you yet,” Mr. Bigsby said with a small smile.
“I believe that when I admit to her that she’s the one for me, she’ll feel the same. And if she doesn’t, worst case, we’ll own it together, and I’ll let her run it. We can both still take care of you and this place.”
“Why would you do this?” Mr. Bigsby asked.
“You have what I hope for. And Harper said you’re like a grandfather to her.
She’ll be devastated when you leave, even if we own the place.
You’re good people. And while you’re doing a hell of a job, you’re struggling to keep it all afloat on your own.
You’re already under a burden, otherwise I don’t believe you’d be considering moving.
I don’t want you to lose your home because of age or illnesses, or having to sell, even if it’s us buying it from you.
There’s a way to make us all happy and we can all take care of each other,” Clay said.
“If this is okay with you, I’ll do some research and let you know what I find as far as the legalities of it and as far as protection for both of us.
I’ll still pay you an agreed on amount every month so that you and Mrs. Cora have some extra money for whatever might come up, as well. ”
Mr. Bigsby pressed his lips together as he nodded. He lifted a hand and swiped at his dampened eyes. “If I’d had a son, I’d have wanted him to be like you. You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, Sir.”