Bayou Born(3)

“I’m busy most days, sir.” He turned. The back of the easy chair greeted him; his father gazed out the window.

What now?

He glanced in Papa’s direction. The old man pointed his knurled finger repeatedly in the air as though thumping it at Cedrick’s chest. “Just out with it!”

“Fine. Wade Addington called here look’n for you ’bout a house.”

James frowned. His secret was out.

“You think you want to tackle something like that?” Papa asked. “It’s a big undertaking.” The old man’s narrowed eyes disappeared into the wrinkles on his face. To Papa, hard work defined a man, no matter if he had money or not. Farming was all Papa knew, along with hunting to put food on the table. He’d complained more than once that he couldn’t understand anyone who wanted to live in Lakeview, let alone move to a big city like Jacksonville or Tampa. Clearly, Papa understood Mr. Addington’s call meant he would be moving to town. Would there be yet another argument discouraging him about changing addresses?

“Well, I think you’re man enough to do it. Certainly old enough now. ’Bout time if you ask me.” Papa nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, as if daring anyone to refute him.

James chuckled. He hadn’t thought about it exactly in birthday terms, but as far as presents go, a house was a solid gift. And, he was old enough, staring at thirty-one. Most parents wanted their kids out of the house when teenage-itis struck, or when college time arrived, but not his. He’d been a good farmhand since he learned to gather eggs from the hens as a kid, though since college, he’d lived in a single-wide mobile home on his grandparents’ farm.

“Son, I’m curious. How’d you find this house?” his father asked.

“A couple of weeks ago, I was out running errands and drove along the lake. A “For Sale” sign stopped me, and the owner happened to show up while I was looking around. She showed me the inside of the house.”

“I hear Meredith grew up to be a real looker.” A sly smile and a wink came from his grandfather.

Surprised that Papa knew of Meredith, he stood straighter and focused his attention on the conversation.

“Yes, I’m an old man, but I still know a lot of folks.” His grandfather raised one eyebrow as if to caution James about challenging him, then grinned, “Back in the day, I sold meat to her grandmother. I’ve known Meredith since the day she was born.”

“So were you think’n about do’n this all by yourself?” Cedrick asked.

“Well, sir, I don’t know. Meredith wouldn’t tell me her asking price. Turned the deal over to her cousin, Wade-the-attorney. We’ve been going back and forth. I won’t know if the project is doable until I have a contractor’s final inspection report...and the final asking price. I’m waiting on the report, though I did make a contingent offer. It was a low one.”

“The two of you just looked at the house together?” his grandfather asked.

He hid a grin and ignored the jab. His grandfather had always been too nosey. “We did a walk-through. Meredith showed me around and gave me the history of the house. There was another woman along. Pretty, but very aloof. Couldn’t discern if she was a prospective buyer or just along for the ride. She didn’t tour the house with me.”

But he hadn’t forgotten the pulsing sensations when he held her hand in his. She might not have looked him in the eye, but he’d bet money she had experienced the pulsing, same as he. More than once a day, his thoughts had drifted to her. Maybe she wasn’t ignoring him that day, maybe ignoring the attraction? It didn’t matter really, she absolutely wasn’t his type. She probably liked opera and belonged to the country club. Her perfectly manicured nails said a lot about what she didn’t do in life. No sense in expending time and energy on something doomed from the start.

His father motioned him over to his easy chair, then held up a pad and pointed. Wade’s name, a phone number, and a dollar amount scrolled neatly on the paper. He shook his head in confusion.

“This is her asking price,” his father said. He circled the number with the pencil he pulled from behind his ear.

“What? You sure?” He looked hard at his father. “That can’t be right.” He looked again at the circled numbers. Two-hundred thousand.

“Seems she wants to be rid of the house pronto and you’re the buyer for her. Wade muttered something about you and your family moving in as soon as possible. All you have to do is call and accept the offer. Your family? What did he mean by that?”

“Hot damn,” James snorted.

From the dining room, Granny called, “Language becoming of a gentleman, please. We’re almost ready to eat. Well, those of us whom are clean.”

“The house is at least four thousand square feet. Sits on over an acre. I’m sure it will appraise for more than that amount, even in these real estate times. The family thing. Meredith says the house needs a family. I told her if I bought the house, someday I’d have that.”

“Shower. Now.” His mother’s fists were planted firmly on her hips as she stood between the dining and living room.

“I’m going,” he told her.

His father tapped him on the arm. “Son, she has one condition. You and your family must have a housewarming party within a year and invite her.”

“I can’t believe that’s what she wants for the house. It’s below market value,” James said, ignoring any mention of family, though suspicion rubbed his conscience. Did the house need a lot of work, and she knew it? Did she think because he looked like a redneck that he couldn’t afford the house at any price? And why hadn’t Wade called his cell phone rather than calling the house and leaving this information? “I want the place, but it’s still contingent on an inspection and an appraisal. Have to have the due diligence.” He’d been fooled once by a pretty face. Houses, like women, might look great on the outside, but dig a few inches and looks could be deceiving. His hard-earned cash wouldn’t leave the bank a moment before he had a complete status and hard numbers for repairs.

“Son, Wade said it needs some minor work. Insisted that Meredith had a contractor look at it when she inherited it. They say the needed work is only cosmetic.”

Papa rose slowly from his chair, hobbled over to him, and slapped him on the back. “I answered the phone and reminded Wade of our family’s long-time connection. But I’m so hard of hearing, even with that darn speakerphone, couldn’t understand half of what he was saying. Had to get your dad involved.”

“Dinner is ready,” his mother called from the dining room.

James glanced in her direction. She stood behind her chair waiting as she always did whenever they had a formal meal. His father would pull out her chair and she would sit, then place the cloth napkin in her lap. Family traditions learned from his grandparents.

Not wanting to irritate his mother, he sprinted down the hall. By the time everyone had a beverage of their choice, he’d be done and ready to eat.

“Finally,” his mother said when he returned. “Your grandmother was kind enough to get you sweet tea.” She pointed to the glass next to his plate.

His mother ladled gravy over roast beef and handed the first plate to him. “James is this really necessary?” she asked.

“The house, you mean?” He knew she wasn’t asking about the food, but he wanted to tease her. Had she made his favorite meal as a bribe to make him stay or as a farewell dinner?

“Yes, this house business.” She sniffed. “How can you afford this? I don’t think you should buy a house until you can afford it.”

“She means that she’s worried that once you move to town permanently, you’ll get too busy to come see us,” Granny said.

He took a bite of the meat and chewed. “This is great, Mom. With cooking like this, I’ll come every time I’m invited.” He hoped flattery might distract her, and then he could change the subject. One of his mother’s...interesting…pastimes was gossiping after church on Sunday with the church’s ladies’ committee. Unfortunately, they viewed gossip as a sport or competition. He wanted his private life to remain off limits to the ears of those with loose lips. He’d learned a hard lesson very well when he and Caroline broke up. And, old men, gossiped just as much as old women.

“I’m glad you like the food. I made all your favorites.” She smiled modestly. “But what about the house?”

“Now Emme, stop that,” Granny said gently. “Leave the boy alone. If he says he wants to buy the house, then he must have a way to work it out.”

Granny corrected his mother? In front of others? Usually, she played the gentle mediator, always finding something good to say about everything, smoothing over any potential conflict.

“Momma,” his mother whined, “I don’t know how he could possibly afford it with all of his education loans.”