Closed

With one or two of our many strokes of pen at closing today we may have moved up our moving date by thirty days.

Back when we signed the purchase agreement for our 1.731 acres and (perhaps) 1800’s-era farmhouse with Old Testament verses hanging under the mailbox, the owners asked if they could continue living in the house for sixty days beyond closing free of charge. That was okay with us, and so we wrote up a rental contract and for some reason of what origination I know nothing decided to allow them to stay for a daily fee for up to an additional month beyond the initial sixty days.

“Does this mean you need us out by May 28?” the man, the soon-to-be minister of a conservative congregation in our neighboring state and the proud father of a very recently born sixth child, emailed at one point. “We’re not sure where we’re going to move to; we may be building a house.”

“That’s right,” I replied. “We are providing the additional month to allow for your transition. We hope this is helpful.”

Even then I felt we were doing the world a favor both by giving them ample figuring out time as well as by practically forcing them to get a move on their moving; they seemed to be such mild people that without our gentle prodding their own initiative might have decided to sleep in until next autumn or spring, for all we knew.

Last night, though, I called him, genuinely concerned that maybe even letting them stay on as renters at all would be in some way violating the terms of our property insurance and bank loans, all of which were to be finalized today at closing.

“Would it be okay with you if we changed the contract from a ‘rental’ contract to an ‘extended stay’ contract?” I asked him. “It wouldn’t change substantively, but it might be more legally palatable.”

He was fine with that, so I ventured further and asked if they had any idea if they would be staying beyond the sixty days.

“We really don’t know, yet,” he said. “We have found some land we want to buy, and we have a builder, and I don’t know if we’ll be able to move in before it’s finished or what. There is a property that we might be able to rent for the time being, and I’m wondering if maybe I’m going to want to be living there so I can help with the house construction.”

“Whenever you decide to move out, we’ll move right in,” I told him. “We want to honor our commitment to you for the ninety days, but at the same time, we’re eager to move in.”

That was yesterday.

Today at closing, after the title company representative mostly successfully suppressed her surprised shock at their response to her explanation of one of the documents (“It means that you have been continuously married….Some people get divorced and then remarried, and that’s okay–” “Well, no, it’s not okay!” he interjected) and quietly accommodated their other concern (“Is this swearing? Can we just affirm?”) by crossing out the offensive language and handwriting in a correction, they took their necessary paperwork–including our “Extended Stay Contract”–and left.

And we got busy with the loan officer. My signatures and initials looked worse and worse each time I splayed them; I couldn’t help but sigh occasionally, not out of boredom but from the sheer enormity of documentation–which we soon learned included a statement that we intend to move into the property within sixty days.

I saw a ray of shining hope not lost on M, either. “The sellers would be concerned enough about this sort of thing,” M said, meaning the letter of the law, “that they will probably move out so that we can honor this requirement.”

I called the man as soon as we got home, and he promised to….er….maybe just said they would….keep that in consideration as they made their decisions.

I don’t mind that circumstances seem to favor a sooner moving date, which I very, very, very, very much want. I also don’t think that a quick move to near their building site is a bad idea for them.

But I wouldn’t be too surprised if they suspect us of being manipulative schemers–when in fact we’re not even playing a closed hand.