Chapter 24: Relocation

"James, I was chatting with Eleanor Whittaker at our card club yesterday, and she mentioned something to me that you might want to pass on to Ken Granger. She and her husband own the insurance agency in Twisp. They've been tied down to it for over 25 years, ever since Randall took it over from his father."

Vi Brightman was bustling around the kitchen, getting the rest of their morning breakfast on the table. Jim was enjoying his first morning coffee and eyeing a growing stack of potato fritters and toast on the warming shelf behind the kitchen range.

"Anyway, she said they've decided to retire, but they need to find a qualified buyer for their business, one they can trust to continue a successful operation and make payments. It seems the problem is to find someone qualified and experienced, who is willing to live here and run the business locally. They don't want their agency to be acquired by an outside firm, or an absentee owner. They've always prided themselves on being part of the community, on knowing the people they serve, and having community interests at heart. She said they would carry the contract if the buyer could come up with a reasonable down payment, and they'd include their lovely house in that contract also, to the right buyer."

"Really! Their home, too? Are Randall and Eleanor going to pull up stakes and leave, as well as retire?"

"Well, sort of. She said Randall has always wanted to travel, and he's got his eye on a new Chevy Suburban and an Airstream travel trailer. He said he wants to take the next couple of years and hit all the national parks, and spend a few winters where it's warm. She explained that he wants to put a pair of snow tires on the back of the Suburban and drive south. When some gas pump jockey asks, 'Hey, mister, what are those funny tires?' he'll know they've driven far enough south to spend the winter."

Jim chuckled into his cup. It was an old joke, but was still funny every time he heard it. Snow tires were no joke during the long Methow winters.

"So why are they selling their house, too? They're not planning on coming back, then?"

"On, no, it's not that. They do plan to come back to the valley when they tire of traveling, but then they'll want a much smaller place. Their youngsters are gone away to school or married, so they don't need that big house any longer. She's wanted to move into that lovely little cabin out by the lakes that her father left her, so now they will. It has a secure shop building to store their things while they're traveling, and the family will share the cabin during vacations or weekend visits while she and Randall are away."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Jim nodded. "Randall has talked about wanting to see this big country for a long time. He's always felt pretty tied down, since coming back from the service and taking over the family business. Did Eleanor say if they had listed it or the house with anybody yet?"

"No! That's the thing. They're hoping they can find a buyer for both, without going through a broker or realtor. They'll save a lot of money in fees and commissions. She said they would split the savings with the buyer, so both sides would come out ahead."

Violet set the warm dishes down, poured more coffee, and tucked herself into her chair across from Jim. He looked thoughtful as he mounded scrambled eggs beside his fried potato patties, and laid two strips of bacon beside them. One advantage of working an active ranch life: he was able to indulge himself in a ranch breakfast that would send an overweight office worker into cardiac arrest.

Violet silently winced when Jim poured a large swirl of ketchup onto his scrambled eggs and took a forkful. Every morning when she'd served up delicately scrambled, fluffy, gourmet quality eggs, Jim had added ketchup. Over the years she'd accepted it as his personal quirk, and every time he did, she winced. She also suspected that he knew she detested ketchup on eggs, and this was his gentle way of teasing her.

"You know, that is an excellent point. Fees and commissions on a property sale that size, would be significant. Why don't I call Randall, and see if he'd consider an idea that might get him a fast sale and solve a big problem at the same time. Yes," Jim shoveled more potato and egg mixture onto his fork, swallowed, and washed it down with a gulp of coffee. "Yes, I think that will be just the thing..." He slid his chair back, stood, walked around the end of the table and leaned over to plant a wet kiss on Vi's forehead, gave her a big smile, and walked into the parlor where his easy chair and side-stand with their old rotary-dial telephone sat. He dialed a number from memory.

"Hello, Ken? Say, about that brother-in-law of yours in Kansas City. Didn't you say he's an executive in a big insurance company?"

Sometimes when things are meant to happen, the pieces fall into place very swiftly. When all parties to the action have good and honest motives, and the means, things can happen very quickly indeed.

Frank Jacobs received an early evening call from Kenneth Granger. He took careful notes, and spent the rest of the evening consulting with his wife Madeline. Early the next morning he called his secretary at work and asked her to reschedule his appointments to the next day, as an urgent matter had come up and he would not be in. His next call was to his banker, followed by a call to his stockbroker. By mid-afternoon he had enough confirmations to place a call to Randall Whittaker at his home in Twisp, Washington.

"Mr. Whittaker, my name is Frank Jacobs. My sister-in-law, Helen Granger, is a teacher in Winthrop and she tells me that you and I have an opportunity to do each other a great deal of good..."

Frank arranged a week of vacation leave immediately upon returning to his office the next morning. He and Madeline caught an early Saturday morning flight to Seattle, rented a car, and on Sunday they were enjoying lunch with Ken and Helen. It was a tearful, joyful reunion with Marilee who was delighted to see her parents, but she was more than a little puzzled by their sudden appearance. No word of any possible sale or move had been mentioned to her, to avoid terrible disappointment if anything went wrong.

Early Monday morning the two couples, the Jacobs and the Whittakers, met over a country breakfast at the Whittaker home. Frank had offered to treat them to a cafe breakfast, but Randall cautioned that too many curious eyes would soon guess the business between them. After a cordial get-acquainted meal, the ladies agreed to tour the two towns, Winthrop being only nine miles up-river. They would spend the afternoon visiting at the Granger home, while Randall and Frank got down to business matters, going over financial statements, tax reports, client lists, and a hundred other details. Hopefully, they would quickly reach an accord.

Frank was impressed. Whittaker Insurance was a small gem, well run, honest, and solidly profitable year after year. It was a small agency but it served a stable, hard-working valley with two small towns and numerous outlying ranches and orchards. If he had searched for the perfect opportunity to go into business for himself, free of the corporate pressures and demands he'd come to resent, this one had been heaven sent. It suited him perfectly. It matched his means, his income needs, and his talents. It was nearly as perfect as anything could be.

The home was a huge bonus. Madeline loved it after three steps inside. It sat high on a river bench, overlooking the small sawmill town, in a neighborhood that had been developed when an elderly orchard owner had decided to subdivide the property rather than replace the aged and unproductive apple trees. It was an open, warm, comfortable and safe area. She sensed a surrounding neighborly spirit, each home on a large lot without fences. There was a mix of older and younger families, where children played, rode bicycles along the blacktop lanes, and older high school-aged youths walked hand-in-hand. It gave a low-key 'our town' feeling to the neighborhood. They instantly sensed that Marilee would be welcome and safe in this neighborhood. The Whittaker's asking price for the home was more than fair, and easily within the Jacobs's price range.

Randall was more than impressed with Frank. He was familiar with the huge Kansas City insurance firm. He knew its policy line, and as an independent agent he carried some of their product, recommending it to his clients when it served their needs. He quickly respected Frank's knowledge and his obvious skill, and was pleased by the financial statements proving Frank's ability to purchase both the business and the house.

Negotiations took little more than a statement of intent, an agreement on price, a quick penciling in of terms, and a few notes to be included in the sales agreement and contracts. They visited Randall's lawyer, just down the street, and then went two blocks over to the title company. They were assured that both offices would have paperwork ready for their signatures Wednesday morning.

They adjourned to a popular Main Street cafe and tavern where local businessmen, ranchers and loggers gathered for lunch or an after-work social beverage. Business done at a brisk pace is a thirsty business. Within minutes the men were seated in the cool, dim atmosphere of the tavern, leaning back against the padded bench seat of a back table, gratefully eyeing the foaming suds on two frosty glasses of sparkling, amber draft beer. Randall had tipped a shot of tomato juice into his, explaining it was a favorite northwest variation.

"I guarantee that by morning every one of the local Chamber of Commerce members will know I've sold out to you, and by Friday half of our clients will be calling for assurances that nothing will change," Randall smiled. He tipped up his glass and drained it. The cold brew was almost exquisite, celebrating his unexpectedly fortunate transition from a lifetime of work to a retirement dream.

Frank drained his glass as quickly. He stood, stretching his long frame.

"I imagine we ought to get upriver to Ken and Helen's, and see what the women have planned for us. I'll guess they're all more than a little curious about what we've decided."

Marilee stood, stunned, eyes wide and mouth half-open, trying to sift through the implications of her father's smiling announcement. A moment later she squealed, jumped into her father with a running hug, excitedly placing kisses on both of his cheeks while at the same time trying to ask over and over, "Really?! It's true? You and mom, moving here? To Twisp? We're going to have our own home and business here in the valley, in Twisp?"'