“It’s perfect, Sam. It has a new furnace. The roof is only five years old, and, as you can see, the area’s zoned for it. There’s plenty of room for the boys to have rooms of their own without having to climb a ladder to get in a bunk bed. Besides, it’s near enough that they can walk to school. And besides that, Binkie says I need a tax write-off.”
“And you want to go into debt?”
“No-o, not really. I don’t know how much ready cash you have, so I was thinking more like you going in debt.”
“Oh, you were, were you?”
“Well, since I’m buying those houses on Jackson, I thought you might want to, well, help out with this one. I’m not sure I can do it without selling something, and you know how I hate to do that.”
“What’re you thinking? Renting to Madge or giving it to her? I mean, to the group?”
“Whichever you and Binkie think best, but I’m not sure I want to just give it away—especially to a group of people with as little foresight as they’ve exhibited so far.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said, leaning over to survey the house again. “I’ll come over tomorrow and have a look inside. It looks fine from here, but you never know. If it passes a close inspection, what about the two of us going in together? Wouldn’t you like to have our picture in the paper as donors of a suitable house for the Homes for Teens?”
“I’ll have to think about that,” I said, recalling that miserable intervention where I’d been vilified for not supporting Madge’s enterprise. Our being acclaimed for good works ought to shame every one of them. “I’ve never been inclined to seek publicity, as you know. In this case, however, I might not be averse to a little recognition. But, Sam, if we donated it, I’d want to be able to specify a few things Madge would have to agree to, and the main one is for little Freddie Pruitt to have a room of his own. I was thinking the top floor of the turret would be perfect. He could both study and sleep in peace and quiet in his own room.”
“Then we’d better rent it to them, with specific requirements spelled out in the lease.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, and we’ll make the lease absolutely airtight. Although I doubt Madge would have it any other way.”
After a little further thought, I said, “Sam? Let’s forget about having our picture in the paper or of being publicly recognized in any way. We’re not even supposed to let our left hand know what our right hand is doing, much less let the whole town know.”
“Suits me,” Sam said, and yawned. “I never take a good picture, anyway.”
I laughed. “Me, either. Besides, if it became known, we’d be flooded with requests from every nonprofit in town and in the county, too.”
Chapter 46
Sam was as good as his word, contacting Lisa Hudson, the listing agent of the house on Wilson, the following morning and driving over to do a close inspection of the interior. While he was gone, I arranged funding of my share of the Great Dane Properties bank account, which Tom LaSalle had opened, checked in with Mildred to reassure myself, then sat back to await the outcome of our plans.
On his return, Sam reported that the big Victorian could stand some updating. “But,” he went on, “it’s certainly usable as it is. If Madge hasn’t been too heavily influenced by HGTV restoration programs, she should be thrilled with it. Besides a kitchen, a living room, and a dining room, there’re two rooms and a bath downstairs that could be a private space for the houseparents and a small parlor across from the living room off the front hall that could work for Madge’s office.”
“She’ll love that.”
“And,” he went on, “four large bedrooms and a bath on the second floor, and three rooms and another bath on the third. It’ll easily accommodate seven boys—more if they double up.”
“I don’t care how many they take in, just as long as they’re not next door to Hazel Marie.”
“Then, if that’s what you want to do, I’ll make an offer this afternoon.”
“But,” I said, “is it what you want to do?”
“Why not?” Sam said, as if he bought huge houses every day of the week. “It’s for a good cause, and the location makes it a good rental investment if Madge’s group folds, or a nice rebuild site in the future. Because, honey, if we do this, we need to look ahead and not lose control by giving it away. You may not know it, but statistics show that the majority of start-up nonprofits fail within the first six years.”
“What? You mean I’ve worried myself sick over the Cochran house and it’s likely to close up on its own?”
“No, not exactly. What usually happens is that the volunteers run out of steam and the funding dries up. The idea person moves on to other things after a year or so. So they’ll hire a professional director who’ll serve as their fund-raiser, as well as hiring an assistant director, a secretary or two, and probably a coordinator of volunteers. Then, as more and more money is required to pay salaries and raise funds, less and less is used for the stated purpose. That’s when somebody’ll have the bright idea of turning the whole project over to a state or national organization and washing their hands of it.”
“Oh, my word, and walk away patting themselves on the back for doing so much good. Sam, we have got to get them away from the Pickenses before they turn that house into a thrift shop for the SPCA or a coalition of state-run soup kitchens.”
Sam smiled. “Not quite that bad, honey. But another possibility is that they’ll sell it.”
“Sell what? They don’t own
