Farmer's Grove
A Short Story
By CJ Puccia
Copyright 2013 by CJ Puccia
One
Tim and I met in college at UW Madison. We hit it off from the start. Just a year after graduation we were married. Naturally, the next step was buying a house. We wanted to stay in Wisconsin since our parents are here. Mine are up north near Rhinelander, his in a Milwaukee suburb. We wanted to live somewhere on the outskirts of Madison, since we both work from home but our employers are based in Madison.
Our ideal home was an older farmhouse that needed a little work, with a few acres of land. I'm an artist, so I need lots of room for all my projects. Tim is a web designer, so he needs a decent sized office. We surfed the Internet, searching for the perfect house. After weeks of looking, we decided to enlist the help of an agent. We found Ron on a real estate website. He called last week with a house that just hit the market in his territory. It was in a small farm town about forty miles from our apartment in Madison, and it sounded wonderful!
"Meet me at the Montesian Gardens at one o'clock on Saturday, and I'll drive from there. These winding country roads can really get you turned around," Ron explained.
"Very good. See you then." I was excited. The location fit our needs and the town sounded quaint. "Ron seemed nice," I mentioned to Tim later that afternoon. "I have a good feeling about him. He really seemed to listen to what we want in a house."
"Exactly where are we going on Saturday?" Tim asked.
"The Montesian Gardens are in the next town over from the property he wants us to see. I don't think it should be a problem finding the park. I'll put it into the GPS."
I couldn't wait! It would be fun to look at houses in person, not just online. Really walk around and get a feel for the places. I Googled the town Ron had mentioned. Farmer's Grove, population three hundred and one. If we liked it, and worked out a deal, it could soon be three hundred and three.
Two
As we drove to meet Ron, we found ourselves further and further out in the country. The two-lane road curved through the rolling hills of southwestern Wisconsin and criss-crossed meandering streams. The vast sweeping fields were dotted with rock outcroppings and lush wooded areas.
We pulled into the parking area of a small park edged with colorful flowers and lush foliage. I saw a pathway lined with stepping-stones and a sign that boasted an artesian well.
"Look Tim! It's beautiful. Maybe we can take a walk around the park after we see the property."
"I don't see why not," he answered as he got out of the car, just as an SUV pulled in. "Think that's Ron?" he asked.
"Yep. He said he had a silver SUV."
Before I could elaborate, the car rolled up to us. The middle-aged man leaned out, waving. "Tim and Katie?"
"Ron?" He nodded and waved us into the car. Tim insisted I get in the front seat with Ron, as he slid into the back. Ron turned to me, handing me a small pile of papers.
"Nice to meet you both. I found a few other houses that we can look at today if you have time. They're on the way to the property in Farmer's Grove," he said, pointing to the papers on my lap.
"We have all day, so yes, we'd like to see anything you found that fits our criteria," I answered. "Right, Tim?"
"Yes, of course. Ron, can you tell us something about these other houses?"
Ron highlighted the features of the houses, how long they had been on the market, how they compared to the house in Farmer's Grove. As he talked and drove, I noticed Ron was missing the tip of his right ring finger. I wondered if he'd lost the digit in a horrible workshop accident, or if he was born like this.
Tim and Ron were talking, but I didn't hear their conversation. I couldn't stop staring at the shortened finger, quickly glancing away whenever he looked at me. It was a strange fascination for me - like a bad accident you can't look away from. Finally, when we arrived at the first house, I forgot about the finger.
Three
We looked at four houses that day, but our favorite by far was the one in Farmer's Grove. The two-story farmhouse was on a hill at the end of a long driveway. There were thirteen acres in all, and most were wooded. Ron told us there was a creek running through the woods.
I pictured my studio in the spacious family room at the back of the house, overlooking the woods. Upstairs there were four bedrooms, any one of which would make an excellent office for Tim.
As Ron drove us back to our car, we discussed making an offer, but I again couldn't concentrate as I watched Ron's hand on the steering wheel.
"Katie?" Tim asked.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Do you want to look some more, or make an offer?" Tim sounded a little annoyed from the back seat.
"I'd like to sleep on it," I answered, again glancing at the finger. This time I think Ron saw me.
"That's fine, but don't wait too long. You snooze, you lose," Ron said with a laugh. The laugh sounded a little odd to me. Like a cackle. Almost evil. A chill ran down my spine despite the hot afternoon.
Back at the car, we parted from Ron. I watched as the men shook hands and I shuddered. I was afraid that Ron would reach for my hand, so I busied myself with unlocking the car and putting the papers on the dashboard.
After Ron pulled away, Tim and I walked around Montesian Gardens, talking about the different houses. I decided to broach the strange subject. "Did you see Ron's finger?"
"What?"
"His finger. Did you notice he's missing a digit?"
"No, what are you talking about?"
"He's missing the end of his ring finger on his right hand."
"So?"
"So, it's creepy. I wonder how it happened."
Tim shook his head. "You're crazy. It's just a finger, who cares how it happened? You'd better not say anything to him."
"I won't! I'm just a little freaked out about it, that's all. Could you feel it when you shook his hand?"
"Katie, knock it off. Ron's a nice guy."
Four
We decided to go see the house in Farmer's Grove again, really take a good look at it. Ron met us at the house. I was a little relieved to be honest. I was still a little obsessed with thoughts of his shortened finger. I didn't think I could sit in the car with him and not think about it or stare at it.
"Looks like the owners are starting to pack." Tim pointed at all the boxes scattered around the living room.
"That's a good sign," Ron said. "They must have found a new place. They'll want to sell this one as soon as they can, so they should be willing to negotiate."
We walked through each room slowly this time, taking note of closet space, outlets and light fixtures. We looked out each window and took in the excellent view each offered. "I love it," I said. "It's almost perfect."
Ron smiled and took my arm, guiding me out into the hallway to show me the linen closet. He was holding my arm with his right hand, and I froze. I literally couldn’t move. The finger!
"I'm sorry," he said removing his hand. "I don't mean to rush you. Let me leave you two alone for a while to talk." He discreetly left us in the master bedroom.
"What's wrong, Katie?"
"Nothing."
"I saw your face when Ron touched you. It's not the finger thing again, is it?"
"I'm sorry! I just can't seem to get past it."
"Well, you'd better or you're going to hurt his feelings."
I tried to change the subject. "What do you think about the house?"
"It would work for us, but it's a little big. I don't think we really need this much," he replied, opening the door to the walk-in closet.
"Yes, but we could grow into it. Kids and dogs and stuff like that."
I grinned at Tim.
"I'm just afraid we'll be extending ourselves too far."
"Ron said he thinks they'll be willing to negotiate. We can bid low and see what happens. That's if you want it."
After some hesitation, he nodded. "Sure. Why not? Let's go for it. If it's meant to be, it will be."
Five
So we put in a bid, and the sellers countered. We took another trip out to the house by ourselves, and we hiked through the woods down to the creek. There was a fence that ran down the property border, and a line of cows stood watching us with curiosity from the other side.
"Awww, look! Our neighbors." I took a picture with my cell phone. There were dairy farms on three sides of the property and across the road. I noticed the acrid manure smell for the first time. "Does the smell bother you?"
"Not really - how about you?"
"I guess we'll get used to it." I was sure there would be many differences from our city apartment. "Up near Rhinelander there were plenty of farms, but not right next door."
"Nothing like this where I grew up," Tim said, " but Wisconsin is the dairy state, after all. Lots of cows and cow smells."
We stayed out in the woods, exploring for a few hours. We came upon a small rock outcropping on the edge of the woods, and a strange hole in the ground that looked like it could be a badger den. We found a berry patch nearby, and deer tracks were everywhere. We decided we would put in a walking path when the woods were ours.
We talked about offering a counter bid, and what our limit would be for the house. I would've paid the asking price, but Tim said you had to play the game, had to get the best deal. Tim called Ron from