Tender Love (18 page)

“I'll telephone Tatum and make arrangements to see the property, and I'll take off one afternoon next week to go with you to look it over.” He frowned and shook his head, “But I'm so busy trying to get my work finished at the bank, if we should decide to buy, I couldn't help you with other details.”

“I'll soon be sharing your life, Mark, which means work and decisions, too—I can take care of the renovation details. Besides, I may not even like this house, but I would like to take a look at it.”

A
week later as they drove out of Richmond on I-95 to keep an appointment with Grover Tatum, Alice said, “One of the things I learned from John was that in buying a piece of property, the buyer shouldn't seem overly eager. So act disinterested when he shows us what he has.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, a wide smile on his face. Alice knew he was humoring her, seeing a new side to her personality, and finding it amusing.

They left the interstate on the Carmel Church exit and met Mr. Tatum at a nearby service area. Mark introduced Alice to Tatum as “my fiancée,” the first time he'd done so, and Alice gave him a “thumbs-up.”

Tatum had a toothy grin, and he shook hands with both of them. “So that's why you're looking for another house—gonna start a bigger family.” Laughing loudly, Tatum continued, “Well, the old Ferguson property should be big enough to suit you, but it's mighty expensive for a preacher who's down on his
luck to buy and maintain. It might be best if I show you some of the other listings I have in this area.”

“Let's take a look at the Ferguson house, anyway,” Alice said. “I find old houses interesting.” Tatum sighed, as if he knew he were wasting time showing them that piece of real estate.

A short drive brought them to property bordered by a stone fence along a stretch of rural highway. The agent stopped before a padlocked iron gate, bearing two No Trespassing signs. He unlocked the gate and left it ajar as he continued along a narrow lane bordered by ancient, gnarled oak trees. The driveway was a half-mile long, and it opened out to a wide expanse of unkempt lawn, surrounding a three-story brown brick antebellum home with massive brick chimneys at each end. To one side was a two-story wing that appeared to have been added sometime after the original house was built. A narrow portico supported by four round columns protected the white paneled door accessed by stone fan steps.

Tatum brought the car to a sudden stop, and said humorously, “There! That oughta be big enough for you.”

Alice's eyes brightened, and she winked at Mark.

“What do you think of it?” Tatum said.

“We need a lot of room, but surely not that much,” Mark said, and Alice knew he wasn't putting on an act. He didn't see anything enticing about the Ferguson estate.

Alice looked around. “It's rather run-down. How long has it been vacant?”

“The property has been in the Ferguson family for over two hundred years, and the last Ferguson died
over a year ago. She was in her nineties then, and you're right, the house is run-down, as are the grounds. I'll be frank with you—there isn't much market for a place like this, because it isn't easy to find a buyer interested in this kind of house, who would have the money to buy and maintain it.”

As Tatum continued, Alice envisioned what a majestic home this must have been in its heyday, and her mind whirled with the possibilities of renovation.

“None of the heirs are interested in the place, and they're willing to sell for a good price, but it will take more to make the house livable than to buy it.” Tatum surveyed the old brick dwelling. “It's an interesting home. I'd like to see someone buy it and turn it into the showplace it was at one time.”

Alice winked at Mark again and gave his arm a little pinch, but his eyes met hers without comprehension.

“How much land goes with the house?” he asked.

“Fifty acres.”

As they stepped out of the car, Alice noted a stone above the front door with the date, 1834. Considering the destruction by marauders during the Civil War, she marveled that this house remained intact, although she did see a few holes in the brick, that could have been caused by artillery.

Mark stepped on the wide fan steps, and one of the stones tilted. “Careful,” he said, taking Alice's arm.

The interior of the house was clammy and cool, and it smelled musty, but sunlight streaked through the dirty windows and added a hint of warmth. They stepped into a broad entrance hall, and along one side of the hall was a wide, paneled stairway that led to
a landing on the second floor. Alice imagined a large grandfather clock on the second-floor landing and Kristin coming down the stairs in a voluminous wedding gown. The first and second floors of the central house each had four large rooms with ten-foot ceilings, containing some very fine dusty and cobwebby furniture.

“The furnishings are included in the price of the house,” Tatum said.

When they would have gone to the third floor, he discouraged them. “I wouldn't go up there,” he said. “Those steps are unstable.”

“But how do you know about the structure of the house if you haven't seen that upper floor?” Mark asked.

“Oh, I've looked it over,” Tatum said, “and if we get an interested buyer, I'll have a contractor repair the steps, but the heirs don't want to spend any money on the place until they have to.”

When they entered the two-story wing, the agent said, “The last ten years or so, Miss Ferguson lived out here and seldom went into the main part of the house. She converted this wing into a little apartment.”

The living area and a small kitchen were still furnished as it must have been in Miss Ferguson's day. The only bathroom in the house was located in the wing.

“Strange the heirs don't want any of these belongings,” Alice said.

“Miss Ferguson's niece, the beneficiary in her will, is in her eighties, and as I understand, her family is financially well-off. There's nothing here that they
need or want. Let's take a look in the backyard. The gardens were beautiful at one time.”

A ramshackle picket fence enclosed a large garden area, filled with weeds and untended flowers. Honeysuckle vines covered a few untrimmed boxwood. Dried hollyhock stalks rustled noisily in the light breeze. Alice shook her head at the neglect.

Beyond the garden were a barn and two smaller structures all made of hewn logs. The barn would provide a good place to stable horses for the children, and they'd have plenty of acreage for riding. Beyond the outbuildings, the landscape stretched upward toward low foothills. The place definitely had possibilities in Alice's opinion, but she had no idea what Mark thought of it.

“Thank you for showing us the place,” Alice said, as they took leave of Tatum at the service station where'd they met him, “but it is rather large, and we'll have to think about it. It must have been a beautiful home at one time.”

“We'll be in touch,” Mark said.

They drove in silence a few miles, for Alice's mind was whirling, wondering whether it was a good idea to buy the property. “You want it, don't you?” Mark said at last.
So he could read her mind better than she thought he did!

“It has terrific possibilities—plenty of room, an outdoor atmosphere for the children, a retreat for you at the end of a long day, and plenty of room for entertaining. If you accept another pastorate, you'll need to host many church functions. What did
you
think of it?”

“The place frightened me when I considered all the work needed to make it livable. I can't find time
to take care of the property in Richmond, and when I thought of fifty acres to mow, I wanted to bolt. I'll admit the house did appeal to me for I've always liked old homes. It's out of the question anyway—it will cost too much money.”

“But, Mark, we can hire someone to mow the lawn. We'll have enough money for extras. When you marry me, you're marrying my money. You'll be taking me ‘for better or worse,' so you get the better along with the worst.”

He grinned at her, reached out a hand and pulled her closer to him. “All, I've had so far is ‘better,' I haven't discovered the ‘worse,' yet.”

“You will,” she assured him, tugging on his ear-lobe and leaning over to kiss his hand resting on the steering wheel.

A serious expression crossed his face. “I can't get your money off my mind. I think about it all the time. The Bible speaks so forcefully on the danger of riches. ‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth…but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven…for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.' I don't know how I can handle having all the money I want at my disposal. I'm yearning to be restored to a right relationship with God, and your money is a detriment. How can a rich pastor set a good example for his parishioners?”

“Mark, I told you—we'll give the money away.”

“But I'm not sure that's right, either. Since you're so generous with the money, perhaps God is giving us an opportunity to use Larkin's money for His glory. It's a tough decision.”

“I personally think we can do as much good with the money as various charities would. But I repeat,
rather than have this money come between us, or in any way stand between you and your relationship to God, we're better off without it.”

Alice leaned her head on Mark's shoulder, and he dropped a quick kiss on her hair. “Why should we be discussing money? This is the longest I've ever had you to myself. Let's talk about how much I love you.”

But Alice couldn't stop thinking about the Ferguson property, and finally Mark said, “You know a minister's life is transient. If I'm called to a church in the Richmond area, it might be for a few years only, and I hate to see you get attached to the house and have to move off and leave it.”

“Mark, when I marry you, I'll marry your profession. If God calls you to be a missionary in the far reaches of the world, I'm going with you, and I'll instill that thought in the children's minds. If we put that house in the condition I'd like to, we'd be able to sell it at a profit. I'm sure it's a good investment. I don't want to do anything foolish, but I believe with the sale of the beach house and the home in Richmond, we'd have enough money to buy that property and restore it to its original splendor and not have to use any capital at all.”

“Sweetheart, I don't have any objections. You have more business experience than I do, so go ahead and check out your options. I'm just sorry I won't have time to help you.”

“We'll hire a contractor to do the work, for I wouldn't have time either. I'll be at home taking care of Gran and the children. But will you go with me to Alexandria on Saturday to talk to my accountant and let him check out the Ferguson land? John as
sured me that I could depend on any advice Mr. Haycraft gave me. I also want you to see my home.”

“About this home in Alexandria—I suppose it's a mansion.” His tone was light, and Alice knew he was slowly coming to terms with her money.

“It's not as big as the one we saw today,” she said, “but it does have three floors, and when we add them to the furniture in your Richmond house, it has enough Larkin family heirlooms to furnish the Ferguson place.”

“Will you sell the house in Alexandria?”

“No. Transitory government officials, many in the diplomatic service, like to rent houses close to D.C., and I can keep it rented all the time. It'll provide an extra income for us. After John died, I considered moving into an apartment and renting the house, because it was much too large for my needs, but I didn't know what to do with the furniture, so I stayed where I was.”

Mark ruffled her hair, and his eyes were merry. “I always wondered what it would be like to be rich as Croesus, and I suppose I'll find out.”

“Not unless you marry someone with a lot more assets than I have.”

“Well, my dear, I have no intention of marrying anyone else. You're stuck with me.”

“I believe I can handle that.”

 

A week later Mr. Haycraft telephoned that he and a contractor had checked out the Ferguson property and considered it a well-built and stable house. It was their opinion that the property would be a good investment.

“Can you and Mark arrange to meet the contractor
and me at the Ferguson home tomorrow? I've gotten a good deal on the estate, but you should discuss anticipated renovations with the contractor and learn how much it will cost before you agree to buy. We have a ten-day option to close the deal.”

“Since it's Saturday, I think we can be there. My aunt and uncle are visiting in Richmond, and I'm sure they'll stay with the kids and Gran. Mark and I need to agree on what we want before we talk to the contractor, so we'll try to consolidate our ideas. Why don't we go a couple of hours before you do, so we can look around? We can get a key from Mr. Tatum, I suppose?”

“Yes, if he'll let you have it.” Haycraft chuckled. “He certainly is bemused that a preacher can afford the Ferguson property. I think if he'd known for sure that you were the purchasers, he might not have lowered the price when I approached him, but he didn't want to lose a sale. He seems to believe that all preachers should live just above the poverty level.”

“He knows that Mark has been in a financial bind for a couple of years, and he doesn't know anything about my money.”

“Is Mark as taken with the property as you are?”

“As long as Mark can provide a decent shelter for his family, he's not concerned much about where it is. And right now, he's busy finishing up some projects he initiated at the bank. He's hoping for a call to a church soon, and he wants to be free to resign his job when that call comes. He has no objections, and if I want to tackle the renovation of the house, he'll leave the matter up to me, but he's supportive.”

“I think you've made a good choice in a husband,
Alice, but I wonder if Mark has any idea how fortunate
he
is.”

“I know how fortunate
I
am, and that's the only thing that matters to me.”

Haycraft laughed. “Unless you hear differently within the next hour, we'll meet you at the Ferguson property, eleven o'clock, Saturday morning.”

Alice went by the real estate office to pick up the key on Friday afternoon, and perhaps it was Mr. Haycraft's comments, but she, too, detected a difference in the Realtor's attitude.