Assuming
I assumed the man at the back of the property was a hired caretaker. I would soon find out I assumed wrong. He wore overalls and stood in front of a tall weather-worn wooden barn with a steep-sloped roof. He hammered on a long piece of metal between a pair of sawhorses. The man and his work were dwarfed by the big old barn and the barn was dwarfed by a group of giant oak and sycamore trees. Though the sun was high in the sky and it was a bright spring day, only mottled spots of sunshine reached barn and the ground through the canopy of the trees.
I was there to meet a lady I had talked to on the phone the previous day. She told me she had inherited the property from her mother, and was thinking of selling. She told me her mother had passed away a year ago and the place was looked after by a caretaker. I assumed she was the sole heir and she alone was in charge of selling the property. I would soon find out I assumed wrong.
The property was a unique and rare beauty, five acres within the main boundaries of town, bordered on one side by a wild stretch of creek. The surrounding area had been subdivided into neighborhoods and built up years before. This five acre piece was the holdout. The mother had refused buyers’ offers year after year, vowing to raise her kids and live her life out on the property, which she did.
I had parked on the street and walked past the old Craftsman-style family home, and proceeded back toward the barn.
“Morning,” I called to the man at the barn. I told him I was there to meet the owner of the property and discuss selling the property.
“Gonna meet the owner, huh?” he said. “Nice piece of property here. You Real Estate?”
I told him yes, I was “Real Estate” and asked if he took care of the place.
“Oh, I do my part from time to time.” He knew I had misjudged him, and he kept it that way.
“Place like this should go to a family,” he said. “These folks have been here over a hundred years.”
I told him I agreed, and that it would be a shame to see it changed, but unfortunately the most likely buyer was a developer, because of the property’s extremely high value as development ground.
“An appraiser would say,” I told him, “that developing the property would be its ‘highest and best use’.”
“I hate words like ‘highest and best use’,” he said. “Besides, I wouldn’t talk about selling a place like this on a fine day like today.”
A fine day it was. The creek sparkled in the spring sunshine and blue and white flowers waved in the creekside breezes.
“I see you’ve met my brother.” It was the lady I had talked to on the phone. “Our mother left the property to both of us, so my brother will be involved in any talk of selling.”
So the man was the lady’s brother, not the caretaker, and the lady was not the sole heir.
I looked at the brother and he said nothing but shook his head slightly.
I harkened back to the words of my old mentor, KDV: “Never assume. You know what happens you assume?” I knew.
I told the lady, “I don’t think your brother wants to talk to me about selling.”
That time I assumed right.
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