Well as you can imagine, Bob was overly excited as he read the ad, for sale by owner, he called the number and was told that he could see it anytime, he asked if we might come right away, the owner said that was fine, so the four of us left immediately. The road that lead to the cottage was the same as I had remembered it, a dirt road, not very wide and still in need of major repair. After a bumpy ride down a rather steep hill we came to the clearing. The cottages were the same as I had remembered them, except some had miner repairs and shown where the paint had been changed but on the whole things were very much the same. And there it was the sign that read “For Sale.” It was only two cottages away from where I had stayed as a child and was the cottage I had always liked the best, although I had never been inside, I really liked it. The clearing where the cottages were located was not spacious and finding a place to park was not easy. As we made our way to the door I could not help but feel a sudden loneliness for the days I had spent here as a child.
Bob knocked on the door and we were greeted by a very nicely dressed middle aged man who invited us in. Bob explained that he was the one interested in buying a place near the ocean. The view that we had seen before we entered was all that he needed to convince himself that he had found a dream come true.
Once inside we were lead through a short entry way into a large living area, the floors looked as though they had never been walked on. There were several captain chairs with canvas backs and seats depicting scenes of the ocean and large framed pictures of ocean scenes covered the walls, along with maps of the bay. The wall facing the ocean was all glass and the view was spectacular. After the normal inquiries as to why Whites Cove and the regular chit chat that goes on among people with whom you are not familiar, he took Bob on a tour of the house. We waited in the living room and marveled at the magnificent ocean view. Directly below us we could see children playing in the tidal pools and men harvesting the mud flats for their take of clams. A scene so familiar from my childhood days.
After Bob and the owner returned from touring the house we all sat around and engaged in more conversation about Whites Cove, then Bob made a commitment to buy, promising to return the next weekend with his money. It was at this point the owner started telling Bob all the things that needed to be repaired, right away, “the side entry steps were nearly gone completely, the under pinning on the left rear side needed attention and when it rained the water came down the hill and went directly under the cottage and as a result the cottage smelled very musty most of the time.” Although we saw no evidence of it while we were there, perhaps it may have been that the aroma from his pipe tobacco camouflaged it.
Bob did not seem a bit upset or discouraged knowing that the problems could be taken care of. As we got up to leave, he explained again to the owner that he would be back on the weekend with his money and to sign the necessary papers. The owner thanked him and walked us to the car, at which time he said "Oh I failed to mention that there is a problem with mice, I have tried unsuccessfully to get rid of them but have not had any luck, and carpenter ants seem to be quite a problem and need to be sprayed weekly.” Still Bob was not deterred, and was certain that this was paradise and the perfect place for him. As we left the excitement in the car was awesome, Bob could not wait for the next weekend to arrive. We all envisioned spending our weekends there. Everyone mentioned however that the man sounded uncertain as to his really wanting to sell it, and seemed to only have negative things to say about it, after Bob decided he wanted to buy. Not wanting to believe this to be a reality, we remained overly excited wanting the week to pass quickly.
to be continued ….