Love's Real Stories

Aunt Ruthie giveth and Aunt Ruthie taketh away. Either way, we need to be prepared for The Aunt Ruthie Factor.

I became aware of The Aunt Ruthie Factor one rainy afternoon at a 1920’s California Craftsman style house, which was soon to be the new home of my clients Randy and Julie Hallman. Randy and Julie loved the house and knick-named it “Our Heart’s Desire”. We were now in the inspection phase of their purchase, and they brought Randy’s Aunt Ruthie by for a look. Aunt Ruthie, from my perspective, was a four-foot tall umbrella with feet that skittered like a sand crab from the street to the house. When she crawled out from under her umbrella and revealed the entirety of her person, I stepped backward involuntarily; she bore the facial features of the stereotypical witch, warts-and-all.

“We love the hardwood floors, Aunt Ruthie,” said Julie, “and isn’t the kitchen cute?”

Aunt Ruthie stumped around the place wagging her head, muttering “No; no; no.” We cancelled escrow that day.

My mentor, the wise old KDV, commiserated with me later. “Ah, yes, my son,” he said, “you’ve been done in by the family deal-killer syndrome. That, my friend, is a force for which we in the sales world have no defense. Matters of blood relations are stronger than the surging tides, babe.”

Two months later, it was time again to implement the Aunt Ruthie Factor. Randy and Julie fell in love with another home, a neglected two-story Queen Ann Victorian. We were silent as Aunt Ruthie inspected. Julie clasped her hands under her chin. Aunt Ruthie stood in the center of the empty living room, and a shadow appeared from the carpet, rising up her legs. I noticed the same shadow crawling up my own legs; and Randy’s; and Julie’s.

“FLEAS!”

A passerby on the street might have perceived us as an odd Irish step-dancing quartet, except without timing or syncopation, as we high-stepped out the front door and pranced about the front yard.

“Should I draft the cancellation-of-sale papers?” I asked.

Aunt Ruthie wagged her head. “No; no; no,” she said.

Julie said, “So that means yes? Yes! Oh yes!”

The Aunt Ruthie Factor works in strange ways.