Good news, good news, good news. My house sold. Yes, someone besides me was willing to buy that piece of crap house. All I had from my realtor was a voicemail. I had to call her back.
"Hi, Em, what's up?"
"Oh, Fran," Emily said, "we got an offer for your house that's $5,000 above asking price. I need to meet you to sign some papers. Unless you don't want to accept it."
"Why wouldn't I want to accept it? That's crazy."
We made plans to meet at a bookstore that's half way between my townhouse and her office. I quickly read over the paperwork. The new buyer of my house is named Hoss Klinefelter. That was funny. How many Hoss's can there be?
"My old neighbor was named Hoss."
"Oh, that's because it is your old neighbor. He came and looked at the house maybe three times and then finally came back with this offer."
I scratched my head. "Why would he pay that much for it when he just bought his house?"
"I don't know. Maybe he finds the land valuable."
Hum. I shook my head and then started to think about it. I always found Hoss creepy. I was, maybe still am, convinced he is a serial killer. The thought that he was in my house, even if I don't live there anymore, looking all around and touching stuff gave me the creeps. I just hoped he doesn't know where my family lives.