“I’m sure there are plenty of prospective buyers on the horizon,” I said, “but they don’t seem to come any closer. It’s weird, Dimity. It’s as if Finch is surrounded by a home-buyer-repelling force field.”
I suspect that something other than a force field may be to blame for the situation. The cottages may be overpriced. They may have structural defects of which we are unaware.
“None of them have structural defects,” I said swiftly, though honesty compelled me to add, “At least, they don’t have any visible defects.”
Exactly so. They could have dry rot or rising damp or cracked foundations or an infestation of deathwatch beetles or any number of invisible defects that would keep a rational home buyer at bay.
“Impossible,” I said. “Jack spent a small fortune refurbishing Ivy Cottage and Amelia wouldn’t have bought Pussywillows in the first place if it had been a wreck. And if Rose Cottage was on the verge of collapse, I would have heard about it. Someone in the village would have told me.”
Are you certain? You’ve been rather busy for the past four months. You may not be as up-to-date with village news as you once were.
Aunt Dimity’s comment hit me like a bucket of cold water because I knew as soon as I read it that it was true. Since Bess’s birth, I’d been too preoccupied to dive into the stream of gossip that flowed ceaselessly through the village. For all I knew, Rose Cottage might be filled to the rafters with dry rot, rising damp, and deathwatch beetles.
While I stared in dismay at the journal, Aunt Dimity’s handwriting continued.
Then again, the cottages may not be the problem. Finch may be too small and too isolated for some people. Families with children, for example, might prefer to live closer to a school or to a hospital or to both.
“Bill and I have children,” I said resentfully, “and we don’t feel the need to live near a school or a hospital.”
Your children have never had a medical emergency, have they, my dear?
“No,” I conceded grudgingly. “I’m the only member of my family who’s seen the inside of an emergency room, but that’s beside the point.” I could feel my temper flare at the mere thought of outsiders belittling my community. “The point is: People have been raising children in Finch since the year dot and they’ve gotten along perfectly well without a hospital on their doorstep. And the schools in Upper Deeping are practically next door. What kind of parents would begrudge spending a few extra minutes in a car if it meant that they could raise their children in a safe and healthy environment?”
You needn’t convince me, Lori. I was born and raised in Finch and I couldn’t have had a happier childhood.
“Nor could Will and Rib,” I declared angrily. I glared at the empty hearth, as if it had insulted my village, then muttered gruffly, “Sorry, Dimity. I didn’t mean to raise my voice to you.”
No offense taken, my dear. I know how much Finch means to you. If you weren’t devoted to the village, you wouldn’t worry about its future.
“I am worried about its future,” I acknowledged. “Will and Rob have lots of playmates at the stables, but what if Bess doesn’t care for horses? Where will she find friends? Local friends, I mean, children she can play with after school. If I could have my way, Dimity, I’d fill those empty cottages with young couples and babies.”
I doubt that many young couples with babies can afford to own a country cottage, especially if the cottage is overpriced. I can’t imagine that any would wish to purchase a property that required an immense investment of time and money to repair.
“I agree with you, Dimity,” I said, “but what can I do about it?”
What can you do? Aunt Dimity’s handwriting paused and when it began again, it dashed across the page in a flurry of royal-blue ink. You can set a good example for your daughter. You can stand up and fight for her future as well as Finch’s because, as you so rightly indicated, the two are intimately entwined. If you want Bess’s childhood to be as happy as mine—as happy as your sons’—I suggest that you stop wasting your time on tantrums and tirades and start using it wisely. I suggest, in short, that you use your resourcefulness, your creativity, and your considerable intelligence to find a solution to Finch’s empty-cottage dilemma!
If ink could yell, my ears would have been ringing. Aunt Dimity had never taken me to task quite so forcefully before, but I felt as though I’d earned a good scolding. I’d been bemoaning Finch’s fate as if I were powerless to change it, despite my firm conviction that no creature on earth was more powerful than a mother rising up to defend her young.
“Message received, Dimity,” I said, sitting bolt upright and squaring my shoulders. “I’ll find out who the estate agents are and whether or not they’ve priced the houses correctly. If not, I’ll have a word with them about local property values and the advantages of a speedy sale.”