Unaware she'd hit a nerve, Dorothy continued laying out photos of homes, while she maintained a steady monologue.
"Here's a particularly charming property that's just come on the market. It's a beauty."
Angela caught her breath. She picked up the photo. Nikki tried to look over her shoulder.
"I do like this one," Angela said. She handed the picture to David. It was a brick, late Georgian or early Federal style home with double bow windows on either side of a central, paneled front door. Fluted white columns held up a pedimented portico over the door. Above the pediment was a large Palladian window.
"That's one of the oldest brick homes in the area," Dorothy said. "It was built around 1820."
"What's this in the back?" David asked, pointing to the photo.
Dorothy looked. "That's the old silo," she said. "Behind the house and connected to it is a barn. You can't see the barn in that photo because the picture was taken directly in front of the house, down the hill. The property used to be a dairy farm, quite a profitable one, I understand."
"It's gorgeous," Angela said wistfully. "But I'm sure we could never afford it."
"You could according to what Barton Sherwood told me," Dorothy said. "Besides, I know that the owner, Clara Hodges, is very eager to sell. I'm sure we could get you a good deal. Anyway, it's worth a look. Let's pick four or five others and go see them."
Cleverly orchestrating the order of the visits, Dorothy left the Hodges house for last. It was located about two and a half miles south of the town center on the crest of a small hill. The nearest house was an eighth of a mile down the road. When they pulled into the driveway, Nikki noticed the frog pond and was immediately sold.
"The pond is not only picturesque," Dorothy said, "it's also great for skating in the wintertime."
Dorothy pulled to a halt between the house and the frog pond and slightly to the side. From there they had a view of the structure with its connected barn. Neither Angela nor David said a word. They were both awed by the home's noble and imposing character. They now realized that the house was three stories instead of two. They could see four dormers on each side of the pitched slate roof.
"Are you sure Mr. Sherwood thinks we can afford this?" David asked.
"Absolutely," Dorothy said. "Come on, let's see the interior."
In a state of near hypnosis, David and Angela followed Dorothy around the inside of the house. Dorothy continued her steady stream of realtor chatter, saying things like "This room has so much promise" and "With just a little creativity and work, this room would be so cozy." Any problems such as peeling wallpaper or dry-rotted window sashes she minimized. The good points, like the sizes of the many fireplaces and the beautiful cornice work, she lauded with an uninterrupted flow of superlatives.
David insisted on seeing everything. They even descended the gray granite steps into the basement, which seemed exceptionally damp and musty.
"There seems to be a strange smell," he said. "Is there a water problem down here?"
"Not that I've heard of," Dorothy said. "But it is a nice big basement. There's room enough for a shop if you're the handy type."
Angela suppressed a giggle as well as a disparaging comment. She'd been about to say that David had trouble changing light bulbs, but she held her tongue.
"There's no floor," David said. He bent down and pried up a bit of dirt with his fingernail.
"It's a packed earth floor," Dorothy explained. "It's common in older homes like this. And this basement has other features typical of a nineteenth-century dwelling." She pulled open a heavy wooden door. "Here's the old root cellar."
There was shelving for preserves and bins for potatoes and apples. The room was poorly lit with one small bulb.
"It's scary," Nikki said. "It's like a dungeon."
"This will be handy if your parents ever come to visit," David said. "We can put them up down here."
Angela rolled her eyes.
After showing them the root cellar, Dorothy took them over to the other corner of the basement and proudly pointed out a large freezer chest. "This house has both the old and the new methods of food storage," she said.
Before they left the basement Dorothy opened a second door. Behind it was a second flight of granite steps which led up to a hatch-like door. "These stairs lead out to the back yard," Dorothy explained. "That's why the firewood is here." She pointed to several cords of firewood neatly stacked against the wall.
The last thing of note in the basement was the huge furnace. It looked almost like an old-fashioned steam locomotive. "This used to burn coal," Dorothy explained, "but it was converted to oil." She pointed out a large fuel tank perched on cinder blocks in the corner opposite the freezer chest.
David nodded, though he didn't know much about furnaces no matter what they burned.
On the way back up the steps to the kitchen, David smelled the musty smell again and asked about the septic system.
"The septic system is fine," Dorothy said. "We had it inspected. It's to the west of the house. I can point out the leach field if you like."
"As long as it's been inspected, I'm sure it's okay," David said. He had no idea what a leach field was or what it should look like.
David and Angela had Dorothy drop them off at the Green Mountain National Bank. They were nervous and excited at the same time. Barton Sherwood saw them almost immediately.
"We found a house that we like," David said.
"I'm not surprised," Sherwood said. "There are lots of wonderful houses in Bartlet."
"It's a house owned by Clara Hodges," David continued. He handed over the real estate summary sheet. "The asking price is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What does the bank think about the property and the price?"
"It's a great old house," Sherwood said. "I know it well." He scanned the summary sheet. "And the location is fabulous. In fact it borders my own property. As far as the price is concerned, I think it's a steal."
"So the bank would be willing to underwrite our purchase at that price?" Angela questioned. She wanted to be sure. It seemed too good to be true.
"Of course, you'll offer less," Sherwood said. "I'd suggest an initial offer of one hundred and ninety thousand. But the bank will be willing to back the purchase up to the asking price."
Fifteen minutes later David, Angela, and Nikki stepped back out into the warm Vermont sunshine. They had never bought a house before. It was a monumental decision. Yet having decided to come to Bartlet they were in a decisive frame of mind.
"Well?" David asked.
"I can't imagine finding something we'd like better," Angela said.
"I can even have a desk in my room," Nikki said.
David reached out and tousled Nikki's hair. "With as many rooms as that house has, you can have your own study."
"Let's do it," Angela said.
Back in Dorothy's office they told the pleased realtor their decision. A few minutes later Dorothy had Clara Hodges on the phone, and although it was a bit unconventional, a deal was concluded orally at a price of two hundred and ten thousand dollars.
As Dorothy drew up the formal documents, David and Angela exchanged glances. They were stunned to realize they were the new owners of a home more gracious than they could have ever hoped to have owned for years to come. Yet there was some anxiety as well. Their debt had more than doubled, to over three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
By the end of the day, after a bit of shuttling back and forth between Dorothy's office and the bank, all the appropriate papers were filled out and a closing date was set.
"I have some names for you," Dorothy said when they were through with the paperwork. "Pete Bergan does odd jobs around the town. He's not the world's smartest fellow, but he does good work. And for painting, I use John Murray."
David wrote the names down with their phone numbers.