Page 2 of A Simple Life

“Ah, explains it. So we have a reference.”

She nodded. “They want fast possession.”

“Great. It’s empty, so that works.”

She flipped through some papers as she sipped her coffee. “I renewed the leases on the other three properties. The house on Renfrew has another two years on their lease.”

“Awesome. Satisfied customers.”

She laughed. “Great little houses, well-kept, and decent rent. Why would they want to move?”

“That’s my goal. I’m thinking of bidding on the old schoolhouse. Turning it into two apartments.”

“Oh. Interesting concept.”

I nodded, scratching my scruff thoughtfully. “I’ll need planning permission. I’m going to put it forth at the next council meeting.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Thelma’s old diner has a new tenant.”

My eyebrows shot up at that statement. Thelma Hopkins had run the local diner for as long as I could remember. She had passed away last year, and the building remained empty. She had been one of my mother’s closest friends, and I had mourned her passing deeply.

“I thought the town council agreed to expand the drug store beside it.”

“No, they decided to move down the street instead and take over that empty building. A new offer came forward, and they accepted it.”

“Someone bought it?”

“Renting for the first while with an option to buy.”

“Unusual.”

Laura leaned back, sipping her coffee. “Unusual circumstances, John. Not a lot of people moving to Richton and wanting to risk opening a business.”

“I offered to buy it.”

“And keep it as an empty shrine to Thelma? We need another business in town to keep going forward. Not an empty building.”

“I would have done something with it.”

Laura laughed, running a hand over her head. “With what time? You are already stretched, John. This farm is huge.”

“I have help.”

“Which you need.”

I inclined my head. My sister wasn’t wrong. What had started out as a 500-acre farm was now 1700 acres. Corn and soybeans were my crops. Planting and harvesting them was a huge job, not to mention caring for them in between. But I loved it. Working the soil, watching the crops grow and flourish. Knowing the produce was the best in the region. My product was in demand, which kept money in the bank. The past few years had been good ones, and I was ready for the leaner ones that would follow. They always did.

My father had cautioned me to always be prepared. He hadn’t been a farmer, but his father had, and he had taught both of us about fiscal responsibility. I’d spent a lot of time with Gramps, and he had left his farm to me. I’d never wanted to do anything else but work on the land. It brought me a sense of peace and completion nothing else could match.

My dad had run the local hardware supply store in town, and my mom had worked as a cook at the small hotel during the summer season and helped out in the store the rest of the time. Laura and I had grown up in a house filled with love, respect, and laughter. Not a lot of money, but there was always food on the table, clothes on our backs, and enough bounty to share. My grandfather had a huge garden that he gave the bulk of to my mother, who canned and preserved all fall. I still had the space out back and Laura helped, but we grew far less than we used to.

Laura was an accountant and a real estate agent. She looked after the renting of the five houses I owned in Richton. I bought them and, with Bob’s help, fixed them up and rented them. I was a good landlord, keeping the places in tip-top shape. I had little to do with the tenants, Laura handling that side of the business for me. But when a repair needed doing, it was done right away. I rarely had an empty house for long, even in our little town. It was a great investment and a way to give back to the place where I’d grown up.

“Does 221 need any work?” I had been too busy to go check when the tenant moved out a few weeks ago. I hadn’t expected it to rent again so quickly.

“Some trimming of the bushes. They’ve gotten a little overgrown.”

“I’ll do that on the weekend.”