In February 2024, Mom called again.
“Rebecca, we need to have a family meeting. All of us.”
“About what?”
“Your father’s health, our finances, the future.”
“Then when?”
“This weekend. Can you come to our apartment?”
“I’ll be there.”
Saturday morning, I drove to Bellevue. Caroline flew in from New York. James drove up from Portland, where he’d moved for a new opportunity. We sat in Mom’s living room. Dad was at the nursing facility. This meeting was about him, but without him.
Mom looked tired, older than her sixty-eight years.
“Thank you all for coming,” she started. “I need to be honest with you about our financial situation.”
She laid it out. Dad’s care was now costing $14,500 a month. Her apartment was $4,500. Total monthly expenses: $19,000.
Their income: Social Security, $3,800. Investment withdrawals, $6,000. Rental property income, $2,100. Total: $11,900 monthly. Shortfall: $7,100 per month.
“Caroline and James have been contributing $5,500 combined. Rebecca contributes $1,000. That gets us to $18,400. We’re still short $600 monthly, which comes from savings.”
“How much is left in savings?” James asked.
“$580,000.”
At our current burn rate, that was about six and a half years. Dad’s doctors said he could live another ten years. The math was clear. They were going to run out of money.
“What are the options?” Caroline asked.
“We need to increase income or decrease expenses.”
“Dad’s care is non-negotiable,” James said.
“Agreed.”
“Which means we need to look at other options.” Mom took a breath. “We’ve been thinking about the house. Our old house in Queen Anne.”
I went very still.
“We sold it for $3.1 million in 2020,” Mom continued. “It’s probably worth $3.8 million now. If we’d kept it and rented it out, we’d be earning about $6,000 a month in rental income. That would solve our shortfall.”
“But you sold it,” Caroline said.
“I know, but we’ve been thinking. What if we could buy it back?”
James leaned forward. “Who owns it now?”
“A trust. Morgan Property Trust. We’ve been trying to find out who’s behind it, but it’s a legal entity. Very private.”
“Have you reached out to them?” I asked. My voice was calm.
“We tried. Through our real estate agent. No response.”
“That’s frustrating,” Caroline said.
“It is, but here’s what we’re thinking. We have the Ballard townhouse. It’s worth about $1.3 million now. We could sell it, use that money plus some savings to make an offer on the Queen Anne house.”
“You think they’d sell?” James asked.
“Everyone has a price. If we offer enough…”
I sipped my water and said nothing.
“How much would you offer?” Caroline asked.
“Maybe $3.5 million. We’d have to take out a small mortgage, but the rental income would cover it and generate extra cash flow.”
James was nodding. “That could work. The Queen Anne house is bigger. Better rental market.”
Exactly.
They were planning to buy back the house they’d sold to me. The house I currently owned. The house I’d purchased from them for $3.1 million and had no intention of selling.
“What do you think, Rebecca?” Mom asked.
“I think you should do what’s best for your finances.”
“Would you be willing to contribute more monthly if we do this? Once the rental income starts, we wouldn’t need as much from you kids.”
“I’d consider it.”
The meeting ended with a plan. My parents would sell the Ballard townhouse, use the proceeds to make an offer on the Queen Anne house, and try to solve their financial crisis by buying back the property they’d sold to me four years ago.
I drove home in silence.
That night, I called my attorney, David Brennan.
“Rebecca, what can I do for you?”
“My parents want to buy back the house. The Queen Anne property.”
“Yes. They’re going to make an offer. Probably around $3.5 million.”
“What do you want to do?”