I hesitated.
“Can I ask what the problem is?”
He was quiet.
“She’s short on the funds they need to approve the closing. About eleven thousand dollars.”
I looked toward Bri, who was standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Eleven thousand?”
“That’s what her lender told her. She’s been trying to find it.”
Then he added, “She already put down five thousand as earnest money.”
I closed my eyes.
“Jordy, do you know where that money came from?”
There was a pause.
“She said she’d saved it.”
I told him about Grandpa’s check.
The birthday party.
Mom giving the money to Dana.
Jordy listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he exhaled.
“I didn’t know that.”
I nodded.
“Neither did I.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then said, “Brendan, I gave Dana my word. She has until Friday to get her financing in place. I’m honoring that.”
“I’d expect you to.”
“If she gets the loan, she buys it.”
“Understood.”
“And if she doesn’t, we can talk.”
I looked toward Bri.
She was watching me.
“Then let’s talk Saturday if that happens.”
Jordy agreed.
The next morning, I called our credit union.
Jeannie Havda had been handling our preapproval.
She’d known me for years and had the practical manner of someone who didn’t waste time pretending paperwork wasn’t important.
“Brendan, how’s the house hunt?”
“We might have found something.”
I explained the property and asking price.
Jeannie checked our file.
“Your preapproval is still active. We’ll need an accepted purchase agreement, appraisal, updated financial documents, and final underwriting.”
I nodded.
“We’ve got seventeen thousand saved.”
“I know. We can review the down payment and closing costs based on the loan program. Just don’t make promises before everything is approved.”
I smiled.
“That’s why I’m calling.”
She laughed.
“Good. Call me when you have a contract.”
Afterward, I went to work.
We were pouring a garage floor near Eagle Lake.
The morning was cold enough that steam rose from our coffee cups as we stood beside the forms.
Hoody noticed something was wrong before we’d finished setting the first line.
“Boss, you look like somebody put sand in your breakfast.”
I grunted.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Family?”
I looked at him.
He nodded.
“Thought so.”
At lunch, sitting on the tailgate, I told them what had happened.
The birthday party.
Grandpa’s check.
Mom.
Dana.
The house.
Hoody listened with his sandwich halfway to his mouth.
Then he put it down.
“Your grandpa wrote a check for your house, and your mother gave it to your sister?”
I nodded.
He stared.
“Did she think the memo line was decorative?”
Kevin kept eating.
Hoody turned toward him.
“Kev, back me up.”
Kevin swallowed.
Then said quietly, “That isn’t right.”
Hoody threw both hands up.
“Well, there it is. Official ruling.”
I laughed despite myself.
The sound felt good.
Then Hoody looked at me more seriously.
“What are you going to do?”
I glanced toward the unfinished garage floor.
“Finish this job.”
He nodded.
“After that?”
I thought about Bri.
Our savings.
The little house on Birwood Lane.
“I’m going to let the financing deadline decide whether there’s a house to buy.”
Hoody studied me.
Then nodded.
“Fair enough.”
That night, Dana posted a photograph of the house online.
The caption described her effort to keep her home after the divorce.
She wrote that some people in her own family were making an already difficult situation harder.
There were comments offering sympathy.
People told her to stay strong.
Several asked whether she needed help.
I read the post.
Then put down my phone.
Bri looked at me.
“Are you going to answer?”
“Not yet.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
I looked at her.
“I don’t want a fight on the internet.”
“Then don’t have one.”
She sat beside me.
“You don’t need to convince strangers who owns the house. The deed already says.”
I smiled.
“That’s why I married you.”
She leaned against my shoulder.
“That and my excellent taste in used furniture.”
I laughed.
For a moment, the whole mess felt smaller.
Then Wednesday came.
Grandpa called.
He rarely used his phone.
When he did, he answered by announcing his own name as though he were reporting for work.
“Ellard here.”
I smiled.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
“Your mother visited.”
I sat down on an overturned bucket outside our shop.
“Okay.”
“She asked me for eleven thousand dollars.”
I closed my eyes.
“For Dana?”
“That’s what she said.”
I waited.
Grandpa continued.
“I told her I already gave five thousand dollars to help buy a house. She ought to ask the family where it went.”
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
Grandpa sounded almost pleased.
“She didn’t like that, did she?”
“No.”
Then his voice softened.
“Brendan, I’m sorry.”
The laughter disappeared.
“For what?”
“I trusted your mother to give you that money.”
I looked toward the yard.
The wind was lifting dust along the fence.
“Grandpa, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
He was quiet.
Then said, “I should have handed it to you myself.”
I swallowed.
“You’ve already given me more than enough.”
He grunted.
“Don’t start that.”
I smiled.
Then he asked, “Are you really thinking of buying Jordy’s house?”
“If Dana’s loan doesn’t go through.”
“Good.”
I looked up.
“You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because it’s Dana’s home.”
Grandpa was quiet.
Then said, “It’s the place she’s been living. There’s a difference.”
I considered that.
He continued.
“Jordy owns it. He gets to sell it. You and Bri need a home. If the arrangement is fair, I don’t see the problem.”
I nodded.
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
He cleared his throat.
“Come see me when you get your first house.”
I smiled.
“I will.”
Then he ended the call.
Thursday afternoon, Dana arrived at our job site.