A Place for Ted

 

The paintbrush had been abandoned and left to dry on the edge of the kitchen counter.  It would no longer be useful to anyone.  The television flickered without sound, reflecting images to no one in particular, while a small gray mouse searched for more crumbs along the tired floorboards of the old farmhouse.

Sitting out on the bench beneath the Oak, sat Lacey, the farmer’s wife and Ted, their Spaniel.  Now with her husband gone, Lacey felt she should sell the farm and move closer to town.  A smaller, more manageable place would be good.  She knew many townspeople already and having neighbors close-by might prove helpful.  She just wasn’t sure about Ted.  An apartment is no place for a dog, she thought.  He was used to the freedom of the farm, running, exploring and barking at the wind.  What was to become of Ted, she wondered.  She had some serious decisions to make.

Ted just seemed to know his master wasn’t coming back.  He had stayed by the side of the bed the entire time the farmer was sick, and the moment they carried the body away, Ted stuck to Lacey's side every minute of the day.  Even now, sitting by her side on the bench, Lacey stroked his head, and he leaned into her, knowing it was just the two of them now.

Lacey's first encounter with a realtor didn’t go well at all.  She was a pushy girl who couldn’t have had much experience in the business and spent the entire time pointing out the problems with the place.  Ted also seemed to know this person wasn’t the one for the job, as he growled the moment she drove up.  The last thing Lacey needed was to have all the problems around the place pointed out to her.  She cut the interview short and sent the girl away.  After a few days, she called Hampton Realty.  Their office was in town, and they had been recommended by the funeral director.

Bob Lewiston showed up the following Thursday.  He was on time and had somehow known to bring a Milk bone dog biscuit with him.  He was an instant favorite with Ted.   The three of them walked around the farm and then went through each room of the house.  He took several notes as they went, and complemented Lacey on having managed everything with her husband’s passing.

He never made any comments about the farm until they were back in the front room, then he asked Lacey how much she hoped to get from the sale.  That seemed to be when the reality of selling the place hit her.  She began to cry and appeared unable to respond.  The realtor closed his notebook and said he would put together a package for her at the office and bring it back out at her convenience.  “You don’t need to decide anything now.”  He bent down and patted Ted and headed back out to his car.

It wasn't until the following Tuesday morning when Lacey called Hampton Realty and asked for Bob Lewiston.  They set up a meeting to have coffee at Tuning Fork Cafe' at 9:30.  Bob was already sitting in a booth when Lacey walked in.  After a few pleasantries and coffee had been brought to the table, Lacey noticed Bob had an excited look on his face, like a little kid about to see Santa Claus. 

"What's going on Bob?"

"I have a proposal for you to think about."  He slid his stack of papers in front of him and flipped over the top page.  "I have run some numbers based on the size and location of your property, and I have looked at a few comparable farms.  What I'd like to propose is this..."  Bob took a sip of his coffee and looking back up at Lacey said, "I'd like to rent your place for a year, paying you $2,000.00 a month and at the end of the year buy it myself.  Doing it this way will save us both all kinds of fees and taxes.  I calculate a fair market price is $475,000.00.

So far Lacey had not said anything.  She was quite surprised at Bob wanting to live so far out of town, and on an old run-down farm.

"Here's the bonus." he said.  Ted can stay right where he is.  I'd take care of him.  In fact, I'll most likely get a couple more dogs, so he'll have buddies."

Lacey's face lit up at the thought of Ted being able to stay at the farm.  "What's the catch?  Why rent for a year first?"

Bob dug a couple more pages from his stack. "I've put it all in writing.  Lacey, I can afford to buy it now, but that would knock down most of my savings.  What I want to do is to take a year to slowly get myself out of the real estate business and start a business of my own.  With that much property, and being outside of the town limits, I'll be able to operate without all the town council interference or their fees, rules and regulations.  They tend to come up with some goofy ideas.  I know this is a lot to consider.  Just think it over and if you're not comfortable with this plan just say so."

The waitress came back to the table and refilled their mugs.  She shot Lacey a quick glance and with a slight frown shook her head, No.

Lacey wasn't sure how to interpret that, but suddenly felt like she shouldn't be too trusting of Bob.  Just as the waitress was turning to walk away, she stopped and said to Lacey, 

"You've got something on your face."  She dunked Lacey's napkin into her coffee and then began to wipe it across her cheek.  Lacey had her eyes closed and could not only feel the wet napkin rubbing across her face but thought she could hear Bob calling her name.

As she opened her eyes she was a little startled to find herself laying on the floor of her kitchen, as Ted licked her face.  Her husband was saying her name has he bent down to help her up.  "These paint fumes must have gotten to you." 

She could see the handle of the paintbrush hanging over the edge of the counter.  As she sat up she still felt nauseous and had a headache.  "You were dead, and I had to sell the farm.  Ted was a waitress wiping off my face."

"Wow, replied the farmer, we could sell those paint fumes."

The End