Page 107 of Cash

THIRTY-EIGHT - Cash

As soon aswe walked through the door, I fell in love. There were only two bedrooms, but the living room was humongous, and the rear of the home was all glass – giving a great view of the ocean from anywhere in the living room or kitchen. There was no room for a family, but it would be perfect for us and one guest – or entertaining. The home was in the perfect spot – in Point Loma, within walking distance of Sunset Cliffs.

The realtor walked into the kitchen and picked up the spec sheet from the countertop. “Let’s see. Twenty-six hundred square feet, two bedrooms, two full baths, and the owner will pay half the closing costs. Beach view, and a two-car garage. It’s tough to get a garage, so that’s an added bonus.”

“Let us look around,” Cash said.

“Did you see the ocean?” I asked excitedly. “When we parked?”

He glared. “Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t let him hear you. These guys are like sharks. When they smell blood, they strike.”

It was the fourth home we’d looked at with a beach view. Although we’d made offers on the other three, none of them were accepted. It seemed although that we could afford to buy a home on our combined income, having a home with a view of the beach was something we were not going to be able to afford.

It was, however, on Cash’s list of ‘must haves’.

The first bedroom was covered in pineapple pattern wallpaper from the nineteen fifties. The second was faded pink with stains on the walls surrounding the outlets and light switch covers.

Both bathrooms needed more than updating. They needed demolished and redone completely.

In short, I loved it.

When we walked into the kitchen, the realtor was looking under the kitchen sink.

“It appears we might have a small leak,” he said. “I shut the valves off.”

“How long has it been vacant?” Cash asked.

The realtor shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s been on the market for three hundred plus days.”

Cash pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “Tell you what. They’re asking a million six-fifty. I’ll give a million one. Fifty percent in cash, and I’m prequalified for the remainder. Thirty day close, the owner pays half the closing, and I’ll resolve whatever issues come up in the inspection short of termites. Take it or leave it.”

He chuckled. “That’s sixty-six percent of ask.”

“It’s a reasonable offer. They’ve been sitting on it for a year. It’s worth a million eight in perfect shape, and it needs three hundred grand worth of work. It’ll cost a hundred grand to get it to pass inspection. That’s a solid offer.”

He shook his head. “That’d be stealing this home.”

“It’s what I can afford.”

“Your inability to afford this home doesn’t warrant the owner taking a financial loss. Make it a million four, and I think we can make it work.”

“A million one is all I can do.”

I pulled Cash to the side. “I can take some of my money out of--”

“No,” he said. “I won’t consider it. That money stays in there until you’re retirement age. No exceptions.”

I sighed. “Okay.”

Over and over, I’d heard the same numbers, and the same “I’m sorry’s.” A million one hundred thousand wasn’t going to buy us a home with a beach view. We’d either need more money or to settle for a home without a view.

The problem was that after seeing homes with a beach view, I couldn’t imagine living in one without it.

“Are you going to make the offer?” Cash asked.

The realtor shrugged. “I’ll make it, but I doubt it’ll get a counter.”

“Give it a try,” Cash said.