“But why would anybody do that?” I asked. “Who would lend a nonprofit that much money? And how would they ever repay it? They exist entirely on gifts and government grants.”
“The more likely possibility,” Binkie replied, “as I’ve mentioned before, is that it was an outright gift.”
After hanging up, I was more distraught than ever. I knew what the listing price of the Cochran house had been, and I knew that the Cochran estate might have accepted a low offer just to be rid of it. Even so, with a house in such a desirable location, I couldn’t imagine that the estate would’ve given it away.
Somebody had to have put up the money, but who and why? Yes, I could concede that someone could’ve donated that much simply for the sake of housing homeless teens, but donating that amount under the table, with no fanfare, no recognition with a picture in the newspaper handing over an oversize check? Knowing the people in this town, I didn’t think so.
Something, I thought darkly, was going on that no one knew about. And recalling what Hazel Marie had told me when this first started, I wondered who it had been who’d asked if Mr. Pickens would sell Sam’s old house. He had been the first to be approached about selling out, and now somebody had an eye on the Pickerell house and on Jan Osborne’s, too.
Who would want to buy a house, much less three houses, one on either side of and one behind a group home housing half a dozen semidelinquent teenagers? And not only who, but why?
But maybe, I consoled myself, it was all just gossip, speculation run wild, as rumors were apt to do in Abbotsville.
Chapter 36
Just as I was about to give up and get out the paper, ribbon, Scotch tape, and scissors to begin wrapping Christmas presents, Hazel Marie called.
“Miss Julia! I’m so upset I don’t know what to do, and J.D. is in Virginia and won’t be home until the end of the week, and I hate to tell him when he does get home.”
Picturing an influx of teenage boys lined up to move into the house next door, I asked, “What in the world, Hazel Marie? What’s happened now?”
“Well,” she said with a great sigh, “let me sit down before I fall down. It’s something I would’ve never imagined happening, and J.D. is going to be beside himself.”
“What? What is it?”
“Well,” she said again, “I’d just put the girls down for a nap when Mr. Pickerell—you know, he’s our neighbor who lives right behind the Cochran house? You know him, don’t you?”
“I know who he is. What did he want?”
“Oh, Miss Julia, he came over to tell us—although I know he knew J.D. wasn’t home. And now that I think of it, that’s probably why he came when he did.”
“Tell you what? Hazel Marie, get to the point. What’s going on?”
“He’s sold his house! He said he feels real bad about it, but that some agent showed up yesterday and made him a onetime take-it-or-leave-it offer. Mr. Pickerell said that it was a pretty low offer, but the agent told him that a group home in the neighborhood devalues the whole area. So he thinks he’d better do it while he can, because the agent pointed out that when a bunch of kids move in, he’ll be lucky to sell it at all.
“And you know, Miss Julia, that his wife isn’t well—bedridden, in fact—and he hopes to be able to buy into one of the retirement complexes where she’ll get lifetime care. So I guess I can’t blame him. But J.D. will.”
“Worry about him when he gets home. Right now, what we need to know is who’s buying it. Who would want something not even on the market and needing work, too? To say nothing of having a house full of teenagers in the backyard?”
“I don’t know who it could be,” Hazel Marie said, defeat obvious in her voice. “I asked Mr. Pickerell and all he said was that it was somebody representing a holding company. Whatever that is.”
Hmm, a holding company, I thought, but knew no more about such a thing than Hazel Marie did. But it sounded to me as if certain cards were being held awfully close to somebody’s chest. But, then, I have a naturally suspicious nature.
“I’ll ask Sam,” I said. “He’ll know. But, listen, Hazel Marie, to be on the safe side, why don’t you call your other neighbor, Mrs. Osborne, and tell her about Mr. Pickerell. I’d like to know if the same person approached her.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that right now and call you back.” Hazel Marie hung up, and I stood there, waiting for the phone to ring again, all thought of wrapping presents left by the wayside.
I snatched up the phone when it rang some twenty minutes later.
“Miss Julia?” Hazel Marie asked, as if I might’ve been someone else. “Jan Osborne said it was some lawyer from Asheville who made an offer for her house. He told her he was representing a group who was interested in buying old houses, but she doesn’t remember the name of it.” Hazel Marie paused, then said, “She said his offer was so stunning that she didn’t hear anything else he said.”
“Stunning, how? Too little or too much?”
“Well, it didn’t sound too much to me, but it was more than she expected. She said she’s decided to accept because it needs a new roof and a new furnace, which she can’t afford. And on top of that, she said it’s an answer to prayer because she’s been so worried about her daughter being next door to all those boys. Miss Julia—” Hazel Marie paused, then in a quavery voice said, “I don’t know what to think. First Madge moving in, and now the Pickerells and Jan Osborne moving
