“I wish Dwight would call. What if we don’t get an offer?” Lu asked, closing the oven door.
“I know it’s bugging you,” Zach said, leaning against the counter. “If you don’t hear anything by the end of the week, just list it with a realtor, that’s all. But I don’t know why you don’t just call him instead of worrying every night.”
“Yeah, I’ll call him tomorrow,” she said more to herself than to Zach. “His office is closed now, and I don’t want to call him at home. Besides, I have to go pick Susan up from her job interview.”
“I’ll go pick her up!” William hollered from the living room.
“How does he hear our conversations from in there and not hear us when we’re talking to him?” Zach pondered.
The phone rang, and Lu snatched it up as she had been doing all week. She didn’t even look at the screen to see who was calling.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” Dwight said. She reached in her purse and grabbed her keys, tossing them to William who was standing in the doorway of the living room.
“Gee, you must have mental telepathy,” she said. “We were just talking about you.”
“Well, you’ve got a written offer on the farm!” he announced.
“You’re kidding,” she said. “Zach, Dwight says we have an offer!”
“I’ve sent both you and Martin a copy by e-mail.” Dwight said. “I just want to give you a few details, so you can call Martin and hash it out. Ready?”
“Detail away,” she said, grabbing a pen off the counter and pawing in the kitchen drawer for a scrap of paper.
She wrote numbers furiously as Zach looked over her shoulder.
“Now, like I said before,” Dwight said. “You and Martin may want to counter this but remember, ‘a bird in the hand’.”
“I know,” she said, “is worth two in the bush.”
“Right,” he said. “Talk to your brother and give me a call in the morning. We’ve only got forty-eight hours to move on this.”
“Okay, talk to you tomorrow. Bye,” she said.
“Today is Tuesday,” she said to Zach. “If Martin agrees, I could fly down there and meet him, and we could seal the deal this weekend.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Zach grinned. “Give him a call right now.”
She dialed Martin’s number and when she had him on the telephone she was careful to tell him each and every detail Dwight had given her, including the fact that they had only forty-eight hours to either accept the offer or make a counter-offer.
“I think we should counter for another $20,000.00,” she suggested. “It can’t hurt, right?”
“But,” Martin was quick to point out. “What if we counter and they walk?”
“I’m bettin’ they won’t,” she said. “They were interested enough in the farm before we had the appraisal. They want the land, and I’m guessing they’ll either raise the offer or we can split the difference.”
“All right, I guess,” he said. “But I know from folks down there, money’s tight.”
Lu agreed, but she was willing to take a chance. Besides, ever since her conversation with Elizabeth, she was anxious to talk to him, even argue with him, whatever it would take, but she didn’t want to do it long distance. Besides, she wanted them to get everything lined up: the sale, removal of the furniture and equipment, and one last look at the house where three generations of their family had made a home and created a legacy.
“Regardless of what happens,” she said. “is there any chance you could meet me at the farm if I flew down this weekend?”
Martin didn’t answer right away. She heard him cover the phone with his hand and say something to Elizabeth. He came back on the line and said, “Yeah, I guess I could get down there sometime Saturday. I’d have to leave here pretty early, but yeah, I could meet you.”
Lu felt her pulse racing. “Great! I’ll make arrangements and meet you there Saturday.”
She hung up the phone and saw the stunned look on Zach’s face.
“What?” she asked.
“I just now realized I’m going to be alone again this weekend,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she tried to rein in her excitement. “But you know how badly Martin and I need to talk. Remember, I told you about little Ashanti’s call? This may be my only chance to bring our families together. I don’t want to miss it.”
“Honey, I understand and it’s okay. It’s just I’m not sure I can handle another weekend of golf, golf, golf,” he laughed.
“No,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes. “You can’t stand another weekend of eating your own cooking.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Well, there is that, too.”