I watched her from the safety of the porch the next morning. I would have
liked to help her haul in suitcases and furniture, but my injured back
wasn't up to it. Her boy did wad he could, trying to be the man of the
family; finally, Xander from up the road took pity of her and carried
boxes, mattresses, bed frames, and mismatched chairs inside the house. All
the same, she did most of the work, and I could see she had spirit.
Marcus proved to be a mannersome child, and he ended up most of the weekday afternoons with me, watching movies on the television. Buffy tried to pay me for looking after him. I refused, saying that he was no trouble. He wasn't.
A month after she moved in, she came knocking on my front door. I could tell right off that she was upset, but I pretended not to notice and said, "You have time for coffee?"
"What's the deal with the water lines?" she said, close to sputtering with outrage. "The toilet backed up and flooded the bathroom. The plumber says that al the houses out here have substandard pipes from the nineteen fifties, and there's nothing he can do short of replacing everything from the house to the main sewer line. Where am I going to find a thousand dollars?"
I sat her down on the porch swing. "There are certain things Giles didn't tell you, Buffy. After he bought the house, he slapped new paint on it and put down new linoleum-but it's still an old house. Don't be surprised if the roof leaks when it rains. Mrs. Sticklemann had to put pots and pans in every room."
Buffy stared at me. "What can I do? I called Mr. Giles but he reminded me that he recommended I pay for an inspection. It would have cost three hundred dollars. All I could hear him talking about were the possibilities for flowerbeds and a vegetable garden, and how Marcus could play in the creek."
"Don't let him do that," I said. "Clover creek might sound charming, but it's downstream from a poultry plant. Some government people were here last spring, trying to figure out why all the fishes bellied up."
"Anything else I should know?" she asked grimly. I hoped that she wasn't the sort to blame the messenger. There has been some trouble with the folks in the house up at the corner. A couple of months ago the cops raided it and arrested them for selling drugs. One is doing time in state prison, but two of them are back. That's why I walk up to where the school bus lets the children off in the afternoons. I've warned Marcus about them too."
"Thanks Angel, I'd better go check the mailbox. Maybe this is the year I win the million-dollar sweep-stakes."
We didn't talk for a long while after this, but only because she was busy with her job and her late afternoon classes. Marcus always keep a watch for her out the window, and as soon as her car pulled into the driveway, he'd say goodbye and dart across the road to help her carry in groceries.
Buffy continued having problems with the house. When I asked Marcus about the exterminator's van, he said the carpet in his rooms had fleas and showed me welts on his legs. On another day, he told me that his mother had called Mr. Giles and then banged down the receiver and apologized for using "naughty" words.
She had spirit alright, I thought. Too bad she didn't have common sense when she signed the papers in Giles's office. It wasn't hard to imagine how he'd conned her, though. He was a slick one behind his hearty laugh and grandfatherly face. He'd own half the houses along the road at one time or another. Most of the folks who had fallen into his "equity" pitch had discovered a whole new side of him when they fell behind on their payments. There was a reason why he drove a flashy Cadillac.
Marcus proved to be a mannersome child, and he ended up most of the weekday afternoons with me, watching movies on the television. Buffy tried to pay me for looking after him. I refused, saying that he was no trouble. He wasn't.
A month after she moved in, she came knocking on my front door. I could tell right off that she was upset, but I pretended not to notice and said, "You have time for coffee?"
"What's the deal with the water lines?" she said, close to sputtering with outrage. "The toilet backed up and flooded the bathroom. The plumber says that al the houses out here have substandard pipes from the nineteen fifties, and there's nothing he can do short of replacing everything from the house to the main sewer line. Where am I going to find a thousand dollars?"
I sat her down on the porch swing. "There are certain things Giles didn't tell you, Buffy. After he bought the house, he slapped new paint on it and put down new linoleum-but it's still an old house. Don't be surprised if the roof leaks when it rains. Mrs. Sticklemann had to put pots and pans in every room."
Buffy stared at me. "What can I do? I called Mr. Giles but he reminded me that he recommended I pay for an inspection. It would have cost three hundred dollars. All I could hear him talking about were the possibilities for flowerbeds and a vegetable garden, and how Marcus could play in the creek."
"Don't let him do that," I said. "Clover creek might sound charming, but it's downstream from a poultry plant. Some government people were here last spring, trying to figure out why all the fishes bellied up."
"Anything else I should know?" she asked grimly. I hoped that she wasn't the sort to blame the messenger. There has been some trouble with the folks in the house up at the corner. A couple of months ago the cops raided it and arrested them for selling drugs. One is doing time in state prison, but two of them are back. That's why I walk up to where the school bus lets the children off in the afternoons. I've warned Marcus about them too."
"Thanks Angel, I'd better go check the mailbox. Maybe this is the year I win the million-dollar sweep-stakes."
We didn't talk for a long while after this, but only because she was busy with her job and her late afternoon classes. Marcus always keep a watch for her out the window, and as soon as her car pulled into the driveway, he'd say goodbye and dart across the road to help her carry in groceries.
Buffy continued having problems with the house. When I asked Marcus about the exterminator's van, he said the carpet in his rooms had fleas and showed me welts on his legs. On another day, he told me that his mother had called Mr. Giles and then banged down the receiver and apologized for using "naughty" words.
She had spirit alright, I thought. Too bad she didn't have common sense when she signed the papers in Giles's office. It wasn't hard to imagine how he'd conned her, though. He was a slick one behind his hearty laugh and grandfatherly face. He'd own half the houses along the road at one time or another. Most of the folks who had fallen into his "equity" pitch had discovered a whole new side of him when they fell behind on their payments. There was a reason why he drove a flashy Cadillac.