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“Yes please,” she said, flustered, and sat down gingerly.
“Give me your realtor voo-doo-hoo-doo stuff and let’s chat. Do you need fingerprints, do you want a donut, should we be meeting at the bank? What happens after I said ‘Yes, let’s buy that place’.”
“You’re buying a house?” Amanda chimed in, obviously listening to them – and bless his heart, Ian chimed in immediately.
“Private conversation between us, lady,” Ian blurted out, and his eyes widened in disbelief as he hooked a thumb pointed in Amanda’s direction. “Does she always do that – creep on your conversations? Can you get one of those divider thingies so it’s not so obvious? I feel like we are being ogled right now.”
“Ian,” June chuckled nervously and smiled at him, not chastising him in the slightest, because he quite handily put the other woman in her place.
Amanda harrumphed and sat down, ignoring them, and picked up a phone call.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked and I was hungry, so I brought donuts for breakfast,” Ian said softly, smiling at her. “You look lovely this morning. You’re practically radiating joy, and I hope I had something to do with it?”
“You don’t let up, do you?”
“When it comes to you – never,” he acknowledged – and winked at her.
“We should get serious and talk…”
“We are completely serious,” he replied, not backing down. “We are very serious, and we’re having a conversation, which involves talking. So, what are we getting ‘serious-ier’ about?”
She laughed and shook her head.
“Are you making up words?”
“Maybe?”
“The house,” she began, trying to get him back on track. “I was looking up ‘comps’ in the area, and most of the houses sold for three-to-four-hundred thousand in that neighborhood, which is extremely high. The land is appraising at ninety thousand, and I think if we put in an offer at what they are asking, we are overpaying. The house has sat empty for thirty days, and I’m not sure why.”
“Because it’s meant to be ours,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice, pulling out a donut and taking a bite. “Don’t roll your eyes, Minx. I told you last night that we were meant to be there. So, let’s talk numbers.”
“Fine,” she retorted. “I spoke with a lender this morning, and if we put down a down-payment of three percent, then we can finance the balance on a thirty-year conventional loan, unless your VA loan is available. VA financing is an option for the homeowner, but they are wanting to close quickly, and there’s different inspections…”
“Wait a second,” Ian said, coughing slightly. “Loan? Lender? Thirty-years? Hang on… we need to talk about this a little more in-depth, I see.”
June felt this sinking sensation in her as he stared at her in disbelief, looking completely shocked. Did he think that they were just going to move in or that this was all pretend? She swallowed back her nausea and took a deep breath.
“I suppose we should,” she began. “I drew up an offer letter for what I thought was a fair price for the property, and I’ve already filled out my portion for the financing so we can start the process to get an approval.”
“How much do you think we should offer?” he asked in a hushed voice, looking at her. “What’s the fair price to you?”
“I thought we should offer three-hundred-and twenty-five thousand dollars – but on a contingency that my place sells. That can be our down-payment, so we don’t have to scrape together the three percent down.”
“You would do that? You would sell your place and put everything in on this house –with me?”
“I kinda thought we were talking seriously about it – yes.”
“June, why do we need a lender, honey?”
She felt sick.
“Ian, the lender is who you go through when you buy a house. They do all the financing, all the paperwork, the loan documents, and such,” she whispered, and hated that Amanda was probably eavesdropping again. “I’ve run my credit report already with the lender and while I’ve got a balance on my car loan and my score is decent – my debts from the funeral expenses are still on there, but current. I can explain that away to a mortgage company, and…”
“We’re serious about the house, right?” Ian said softly, looking at her with an expression she had not seen before.
“Yes – I thought so.”
“I’m thirty-two,” he began, and she sat there confused, listening. “I’ve been in the Army since I was eighteen, and while I’m not a four-star general or anything fancy? …I don’t have any bills.”
