Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I say, nodding with far more steadiness than I feel. “So, three hundred thousand, plus another seventy or so for the rest?”
He pulls a face. “I mean, maybe. If you’re lucky. But I’d say budget closer to a half million total for all the interior stuff. Just to be safe.”
The number hits like a physical blow.
Half a million just in basic infrastructure and safety concerns, and that’s before I tackle the cosmetic issues like the peeling wallpaper and ancient appliances that desperately need to be replaced.
“And then there’s the roof…” Dave starts, sounding nearly as upset as I feel.
“I thought you said it had ten years left?”
“Yeah, it’s good for a while, but the fire escape needs immediate attention, it's also not—”
“Up to code,” I finish for him, his grim smile all the confirmation I need. “Is that it? Please tell me that’s it.”
He glances at his clipboard and exhales a weary sigh. “That’s it. Well, aside from the boiler. It’s running pretty good right now, but it’s ancient. Haven’t seen one like that since I was a kid. When it goes, that’s another thirty to fifty grand, depending on how you choose to replace it.”
My vision starts to blur.
This can’t be happening. I budgeted for serious repairs, yes, but nothing like this. This is…catastrophic. And I don’t see the seller dropping the price by more than two hundred thousand—tops.
That’s a drop in the bucket of what’s needed here, and even if I crunch the numbers and think I could justify a larger loan to cover the repairs, I’ve already maxed out my borrowing capacity.
I just…
I don’t think I can make this work.
“Look,” Dave says kindly, clearly reading the despair creeping across my face. “Your instincts are good. In the long run, I think this building is a great investment. And it could still be a good deal for the right buyer. But unless you’re sitting on a pile of cash you can use for the reno, I’d walk away from this one.”
“But I already put down twenty-seven thousand in earnest money,” I say, fighting to keep my voice from wobbling. “And I had to waive the inspection contingency to get them to accept my offer over the higher ones. If I bail now, I lose every dime I’ve put into the deal thus far.”
He mutters something beneath his breath as he smooths his moustache. “Well, that’s a shame. But if you were my daughter, I’d say to lose the earnest money if you have to. Better than getting in over your head with a bunch of debt in your twenties. That kind of debt can crush dreams, you know?”
I nod, fighting tears as my throat squeezes so tight I can barely breathe. Twenty-seven thousand might not be much to the typical New York City real estate investor, but it’s a huge chunk of cash for me. If I lose it, I won’t have enough for another down payment for at least a year or two. Maybe more.
But he’s probably right.
I’ll go crunch the numbers the way I planned, but right now I don’t see a way this ends in anything but disaster.
“Well, thank you,” I finally manage to force out as I thrust a hand his way. “I appreciate you. Thank you for such a comprehensive and thorough inspection.”
“Of course.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before handing over an envelope with my copy of the paperwork. “And I’m giving you the friends and family discount on this one. I’ll tell Tish to take that off before she sends your bill.”
Shit, the bill. That’s another two grand of my nest egg.
But Dave was totally worth it. As much as this is killing me right now, he likely saved me from making a terrible investment.
I thank him again before heading through the dingy lobby with the flickering orange light dangling from the ceiling and down the stairs into the cold morning air.
Outside, the winter sun feels too bright, the rays bouncing off the snow glaring into my tear-filled eyes.
I start walking fast, with no real destination in mind. I just need to move, to think, to find some way to rearrange the puzzle pieces until I pull off a miracle and make this work.
My phone buzzes and I reach for it like a lifeline, positive it’s Anthony checking in. Or better yet, explaining himself in some way that makes sense.
But it isn’t Anthony. It’s Sydney, asking why the hell I didn’t tell her I was going to be in the city. Apparently, she saw my mother at the store in Sea Breeze and learned I was spending the holidays alone in New York.
On impulse I bypass the text explanation and tap her contact button.
She answers on the first ring. “Well, hello, mysterious one. Why are you being so mysterious? And why are you in New York City alone? Better question, do you want to go to the spa with me tomorrow before I fly back to Maine? I’m going to need a massage after this meeting. The dude bros on this project are dude bro-ing too close to the sun. I’m about to lose every last bit of my cool and fire everyone, even if it is the holiday season.”