Chapter 10 - The Price of Being Reasonable
Nia's next estimate was eleven thousand dollars for the redesign and the additional site work calculations. The number made Owen laugh once, sharply, before he went to the sink and washed a clean coffee cup.
“We can't keep doing this,” he said.
“I know.”
“No. I mean we actually can't.”
He opened his work calendar. Three restoration jobs had been delayed by rain, and one client still owed him final payment. Owen could earn the money over time. Time was what we were running out of.
The next morning, I called my sister, Leah, in New Haven. She offered us a loan before I could finish explaining. I knew she'd been saving for graduate school.
“Absolutely not,” I told her.
“Then why did you call?”
“Because I needed someone to tell me if I'm being foolish.”
She was quiet. “Are you fighting for a home, or because you can't bear being told no?”
That hurt. It also sounded uncomfortably like something Owen might ask.
On Sunday I drove alone to the lot and sat where the kitchen would be. The valley smelled of wet leaves. I tried to picture the house in three different positions. Each time I could imagine us carrying furniture through the door. I could also imagine another rejection arriving afterward.
When I came home, Owen had spread his workshop inventory across the floor. He was considering selling the antique hand tools he'd inherited from his father to cover the redesign.
“Those aren't savings,” I said. “They're your dad.”
“Dad would tell me to use what I've got.”
“He'd tell you not to sell his planes to finance somebody else's indecision.”
We argued for an hour. I accused him of giving up. He accused me of acting as though determination could replace arithmetic. Neither accusation was entirely wrong.
By evening, we had made a compromise with each other before asking for another from the association. Nia would produce a limited study first, not a complete new set of drawings. We'd pay a fixed fee. If the committee couldn't identify a path to approval from that study, we'd stop and reassess.
The next day, I emailed Celia outlining the limited proposal and asking whether the board would review it without demanding another full package.
Her response arrived the following afternoon.
The committee is unwilling to commit in advance to the sufficiency of any preliminary materials.
Owen read the sentence and closed the laptop.
May you like
“That's it,” he said. “We aren't buying another maybe.”
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