I had spent three years looking for a house. It sucked. Not that I was out on the street or anything - I was renting a cozy little apartment - but I really wanted a bigger place. This one, there was always clutter all over just because I didn't have a place to put anything. Sports bag, stacks of papers, computer stuff, books... it was all just sort of lying around. I had no bookshelves, no storage areas... No real 'home' for anything. Honestly, I felt like I'd been in student dorms bigger than this.
The only good thing was the location. It was really close to work, I could get there by bus in just fifteen minutes. That was the main reason I hadn't moved out; I just didn't want to move too far away so that I'd have to spend hours commuting to the office. The problem now was that homes in this area were really expensive. Either that or they needed a ton of refurbishment.
I had
some
money saved up and the bank where I worked were willing to grant me a mortgage for the remainder I needed, but I still wasn't loaded. A single guy in his twenties wasn't going to be able to buy a really expensive house, and it was a
house
that I wanted. I'd grown up in one, in the suburbs, and I wanted one with a nice garden. That was my dream.
Not to mention that a one-room apartment with a kitchenette didn't really work as a chick magnet either. I'd had
one
girl come over once after we'd been to a party at a friend's place. Moving from there to my little hole for a nightcap, she was... unimpressed. I couldn't help but think that if I'd had a nicer place to show my prospective paramour, I might have gotten lucky that night.
Having gone to showings and looked at ads for several years without success, I was getting really frustrated. I felt like it was a real possibility that I'd have to move further away, possibly even relocate to another city, changing jobs in the process. Not being a fan of big changes in my life, I didn't want that. So I kept at it - looking for my dream house. Maybe expanding the geographical area in my search a smidge. And another smidge.
One evening, one of those online searches pinged. At first, I got annoyed just by looking at the photo in the ad. Clearly, this was a property out of my league. Sometimes, homes would be pitched to me even when their prices were set higher than I had specified in my search. Out of habit, I scrolled through the ad really quickly and noticed that the price was actually within my range.
All right, I thought. So the problem must be something else. A so-called "fixer-upper", maybe. Whenever real estate agents use those words, what they mean is that the property is actually falling apart and needs to be renovated for hundreds of thousands of dollars. I couldn't afford that kind of thing.
I kept reading. The photos of the house actually looked really good. The ad also said that the building was recently refurbished. New electrical system, plumbing less than twenty years old, the roof had been done... So what was the problem? The location, maybe? I double checked the map. Nope. That was also good - in the suburbs right next to a park, less than a half hour drive from work.
I read through the ad again, a bit more thoroughly this time. It seemed perfect. Too perfect. Over the past couple of years, I'd seen several properties in worse shape sell for more than this. There was no way this house shouldn't sell for a hundred grand more than its list price. There just had to be a catch somewhere.
Since sending a message didn't cost me anything, I decided to contact the estate agent to see what was up. Because it was late in the evening, I knew I probably wouldn't get a reply very quickly, so I thought nothing more of it and went to bed.
The following morning, though, I still had no reply. I went in to work as usual, checking my messages every once in a while. Still nothing. Maybe they were really busy? I sent off another message, inquiring into the property, thinking that they would surely reply more quickly this time.
They didn't. This was getting weird. Most of the time, the agents are really eager to get you to showings. They can actually be really pushy, to the point of pure annoyance. I mean, were they somehow not interested in selling this thing, or...?
I put the matter aside for a while. Maybe the agent was just really busy with something else. I wasn't really supposed to be house hunting during work hours anyway, so I didn't check my messages again until lunch. At that point, there was indeed a reply in my inbox.
"Good afternoon, Sir. The property is indeed up for sale at the listed price. Would you be interested in a showing later today?"
Okay, that was more like the speed I'd expected. A showing right away, even. The message went on with a few more formalities, but I didn't read it all and figured I'd just set up a time to go and see it. I had done this part before - attend showings, that is. Somehow, though, I had always either found something badly wrong with the place... or someone else had bought it before I could. I had gotten used to that by now. I guessed this could be another one of those times, where a dozen people all try to bid for the same property, easily outbidding me and my small budget. Steeling myself for disappointment, I confirmed the appointment and went back to work.
I clocked out a bit early, headed home to grab a quick dinner and then went to see the house just before six o'clock. It wasn't hard to find. The bus service went past nearby and it was only a few minutes' walk to the property, and when I arrived, it seemed clear to me that this was not going to happen.
The house looked perfect. It was a big, two-story building in the folk Victorian style, originally built in the late 1800s. A bit old, yes, but really well maintained and - as the listing said: recently refurbished. There was also a big garden with lots of green grass and several medium-sized trees, and a nice (if a bit run-down) picket fence surrounding the property.
I was a few minutes late to the appointment, so I expected to see a crowd of people being shown around. Instead... nothing. Nobody. Not even the estate agent was present. I went up to the door and rang the bell, thinking he might be inside, but no. There was no one. Huh. I thought the reason the appointment had been set up so fast was that there was already a showing scheduled that I had been able to get in on, but...
Guessing he was running late too, I walked around and took a look at the property. Man, this place was amazing. Just the kind of place I dreamed about. A quiet suburban neighborhood with houses a century old... lovely gardens, big trees flanking the main road... And still, just a five minute drive away from the highway, so it wasn't far to the nearest shopping mall or indeed to my office.
This particular road was a dead end, too. No traffic running through, that's great, I thought. Also, this house was slightly off to the side, meaning the nearest neighboring one was a bit further away. Less noise - that would be great if I wanted to pick up my guitar hobby again...
Eventually, a car came driving up to the house and parked in the driveway. A middle-aged man in a suit stepped out and started coming over, but he didn't seem like the kind of estate agent I was used to. There's usually a spring in their step when they're approaching a potential buyer. This guy didn't smile that cheesy grin they all do either.
"Hi there. You're Mr. Davis, I presume?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"Greg Porter, Sage & Porter Realty. Sorry I'm late, I got stuck on the highway."
"No problem, I was just looking around."
"Beautiful place, isn't it?"
"Sure is, the garden looks great. Just needs a bit of TLC."
"Well, let's show you the inside, shall we?"
There was still something off about this. As estate agents go, this one was definitely lacking enthusiasm. No smiles, no confidence in his step... The words were standard salesman talk, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. When he said this was a beautiful place, it was like an automated chat rather than a statement from someone trying to sell me on the property. It was like he... didn't care.
He unlocked the door and showed me in. For the next twenty minutes, I went through the place and checked out all the rooms. Over the past three years, I had gotten plenty of experience with showings and what to look for, so I usually went straight for those. I asked some simple questions as I went, getting single-syllable replies to most of them. I checked the bathroom and taps for leaks and drainage; the windows opened and closed properly; the electrics did indeed seem brand new; the fireplace was a bit old, but functional...
I couldn't find any problems. Nothing beyond normal wear and tear. Sure, the house was old and could probably do with some simple renovation here and there, but the really big stuff all seemed to have been done. As I completed my little tour, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stuff like, a nuclear power plant was going to be built next door... or the previous owner had been brutally murdered in the living room.
As I walked out of the house, I was expecting the usual pitch. What did I think? Great location, right? Was I ready to make an offer? The owner really wants to make a deal, so what do you say...? But no. This Porter guy just locked up and came wandering back down the driveway. It was as if he had already gotten told that there wouldn't be any sale here today.
"So... I was expecting to see others here..."
"Others?" he replied, looking confused.
"Yeah, you know... people? Prospective buyers? Are they due later, or...?"
"Oh, that... No, not really... I mean, there's been some interest but..."
He trailed off. Again with the apathy. At this point, I just had to know what was going on.
"Look, I gotta ask... What's the catch?"
"Sorry?"
"Aw man, I've seen a lot of houses and this is by far the best I've seen in this price range. I didn't even think I could afford it, I thought the price must be wrong or something. Is there something wrong with this place? Because... I mean, when something
