A few days later, I heard from the property manager again.
She wanted to confirm that Rance's offer had been rejected.
I called her.
"Yes," I said.
"I don't want to move forward with that offer."
She acknowledged my decision.
There was no argument.
No pressure.
Just a professional conversation.
I appreciated that.
She had handled the property for years without making things difficult.
I told her I wanted the existing arrangement to continue.
She said she would keep managing the lease.
Then we discussed the roof.
I already knew it needed attention.
I asked her to keep the matter on the list of things requiring attention.
There was no reason to rush into a sale because of a repair.
When we finished, I put my phone down.
I looked through the kitchen window.
The sky was gray.
A little rain was beginning to fall.
It reminded me of the mornings when I had walked my route with water running down the sleeves of my uniform.
There had been many of those mornings.
I remembered Christmas Eves when I had accepted extra work.
I remembered Saturdays beyond the reservoir.
I remembered coming home with tired feet and still having to look at the household bills.
There were times I had wondered whether I was being foolish.
There were times I had considered whether the easier choice would have been to give up the building.
But I hadn't.
I had kept going.
Not because the building was perfect.
Not because I wanted to become wealthy.
Because I had made a commitment.
And I wanted to see it through.
That afternoon, Jessie stopped by.
She brought coffee.
We sat at the kitchen table.
She noticed the folder.
"You've been looking through everything?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Good."
I told her I had finally opened the retirement statement.
She smiled.
"About time."
I laughed.
"Don't start."
She put her cup down.
Then she asked whether Rance had contacted me.
I shook my head.
"Not directly."
She seemed relieved.
I told her the property manager was continuing to handle the lease.
Jessie agreed that it was sensible.
We talked about ordinary things for a while.
Her work.
My route.
The weather.
Then she looked toward the refrigerator.
The pierogi magnet was there by itself.
"You finally took it out?"
"I did."
She laughed.
I told her I had been afraid to read the statement.
She understood.
She knew how much of my identity was connected to work.
She also knew I had never been someone who liked sitting around waiting for things to happen.
"You'll find something to do," she said.
"I know."
And I did know.
There were things I had postponed.
There were places I hadn't visited.
There were mornings I had spent getting ready for work when I could have been doing something else.
But I wasn't ready to stop yet.
I still enjoyed parts of the job.
I liked the familiar streets.
I liked knowing the people.
I liked the feeling of finishing a route.
I wasn't going to let one birthday dinner make me suddenly want a different life.
Jessie stayed until the coffee was gone.
Before she left, she hugged me.
"Grandma would have been proud of you."
I looked at her.
That sentence stayed with me.
My grandmother had lived on the street whose name I had used for the company.
She had been part of the reason I chose it.
I thought about her house.
I thought about the street.
I thought about how much it meant to have something from that part of my family connected to the property.
"Thank you," I said.
Jessie smiled.
Then she left.
I stayed at the table for a few minutes.
The folder was still open.
The paid-in-full paper was inside.
I closed it and returned it to the cabinet.
The building was still mine.
And I didn't need to sell it just because Rance had finally learned that fact.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: The Building on Main Was Still Standing, and So Was the Woman Who Had Spent Nine Years Making Sure It Stayed Hers
The Birthday Toast That Made Twenty People Laugh, and the One Secret I Had Kept for Nine Years
Part 15 of 20
