Everything was finally coming together. Two weeks after finishing grad school I had an interview for a teaching position at a very good university. This would mean relocation if I got the job, but I would deal with that if and when it became real. No matter what, I was looking forward to a move. The relationship I had been in for the last two years ended with graduation. It was a mutual parting, as both of us were more friends with benefits than seriously and romantically involved, just two grad students seeking stress relief with shared meals and sex.
Universities are not known to be fast with the hiring process so I was surprised when I got a phone call with a job offer. After talking through all the finer points, I readily accepted the offer to join the English faculty. Now I could stop the job hunting and focus on relocation. The move would be easy. Grad students don't accumulate much in the way of belongings. The challenge would be finding housing. The only person I knew in my soon-to-be hometown was Aunt Adeline. Well, she wasn't really a relative, just a long-time friend of the family who was always referred to as Aunt Ad. She had recently sold her home and moved into a small townhouse, but she had lived in the city forever and would be a good source of information on just about everything. A quick scouting trip was in order.
Aunt Ad was delighted to hear my news. I told her I would be in town in three days to start the search for a place to live. She insisted that I stay with her while I house hunt, and I then insisted that I take her to dinner Friday evening when I arrived.
Dinner was not only wonderful, but I learned about best restaurants, grocery stores, specialty shops, doctors, dentists and what all.
"That's great info, Aunt Ad, but my main concern is finding a place to live."
"Well, she replied, I've given that some thought, too. You know the neighborhood where I used to live is one of the best in the city."
"I do know that, but my university salary doesn't have the horsepower to get me there," I said. "I need to look into a more affordable situation."
"Now don't get upset with me for being pushy, but I called a friend back in the old neighborhood."
Oh boy, where was this headed? I had an immediate vision of me renting a dusty, moth-balled room in a huge old house that came with an 80-year-old owner/roommate. After ultra-small apartments and group housing for the past few years, I was thinking more of independence, and while not large, comfortable and private quarters.
"My friend, Beverly, might be able to help you with a place to live."
Yup, here it comes. I have to find a way of getting out of this tactfully.
"Let me tell you about Beverly and explain why I called her. But before I do that, I can see by your body language that you're less than thrilled at my intervention. I would never put you in an awkward situation, so just here me out"
During the next several minutes I learned that Aunt Ad and Beverly had been neighborhood acquaintances for several years, always giving one another cordial greetings, but no real friendship developed, largely because of their age differences. Ad, who was in her late 60s, guessed Beverly to be in her mid-to-late-40s. Their friendship deepened when she befriended Bev after her husband died the previous summer. Dan was quite a bit older than Beverly and had a major heart attack while working in the yard and never made it to the hospital alive.
Since then, Ad had provided meals and companionship, but more significantly a ready listener as Beverly worked her way through grief.
"We played a lot of gin rummy and binge watched a lot of TV series," said Ad. "She wasn't without friends, but most were couples and she felt odd being with them without her partner, Dan."
"Anyway, let me get to the real point."
As Ad explained, Beverly had a small guest house in the back of their 2-acre lot, tucked nicely among several pine trees. According to Ad, you could barely see it from Bev's back porch. In addition, with Dan gone the guest house, main house and yard needed some tender care. Dan was a great guy, but started a lot of things, but never seemed to get them completed. A prime example was an automatic garage door opener that sat on the floor in the corner of the garage for now more than a year.
Every morning Ad watched Bev struggle opening and closing the garage door and suggested that they get a door opener. Bev made the purchase, but Dan never got around to making the install.
After hearing all this I was a bit ashamed thinking that aunt Ad was indeed being pushy. It actually sounded like she might be arranging the perfect solution for me. I sat there feeling stupid as she called Beverly and asked if I could come by the next morning to check out the guest house and chat with her about possibly renting the place and helping her out with chores and maintenance. I doubted that the chores would be very difficult and they might even keep me in shape. Through grad school I had hit the gym hard to burn off the stress and I liked the results and wanted to keep them. I had trimmed my six-foot frame to 180 pounds and my friend-with-benefits partner loved hanging on my arm at social events with her girlfriends. It was a nice ego boost.
I admit to being a bit anxious driving through Ad's old neighborhood the next morning, excited about the prospects of this working out. I would be incredibly lucky to land a place in this area of beautiful upscale homes. Ad's former home was directly across the street from Beverly's and as I approached, there was Beverly struggling to open the garage door aunt Ad told me about. I zipped in the drive, causing her to stop and look up.
"Whoa, let me get that for you."
"You must be Rob," said this well put together attractive woman.
"And you must be Beverly," I replied as I turned the door handle and lifted the door open.
It was a wood framed large two-stall garage door and I was impressed that Beverly could even get this open. She stood about 5-7 and couldn't weigh more than 130 pounds. The door, even though assisted by heavy springs, still outweighed her by at least 50 pounds.
Obviously, she had been watching for my arrival. I wasn't surprised by that, but I was surprised to look closely at the woman before me. She wasn't the widow-in-mourning type at all. She had a slim athletic build set off by pressed tan shorts, a sharp white blouse and sandals. Her makeup was subdued, if she used any at all, on an olive-tinted flawless complexion. She wore her jet-black hair shoulder length that curved, gently framing a lovely face. She looked at me with an easy smile and welcomed me to her home.
"Hi, Beverly, Ad told me that you've had a difficult year. I was saddened to hear about your husband. I cannot even imagine and regardless whether we come to some kind of living arrangements I will make sure that garage door gets installed."
"Thank you, that would be a big help."
"No problem at all. I actually enjoy doing things like that. It's fun to work on a project that gets completed and is useful."
"I loved my Dan dearly, but I do have to say he was good at starting although finishing was not his strong suite."
We then walked through the garage and out the back door. Beverly was leading the way through a small grove of pines to the guest house, tucked neatly in among the trees. The little home was small, a combination kitchen living room, a single good sized bedroom and a decent size full bathroom. Bookshelves were in all rooms but the bathroom and there was even a small desk, work station, in the bedroom. I was thinking how absolutely perfect this would be when Bev mentioned that utilities and internet were provided. We sat at the small kitchen table and came up with a more than reasonable monthly rent. It included me having to care for yardwork and a few other simple chores, but it was a steal and the location was only a few miles from the university.
