shift. She was taking all of the extra hours she could get, but with the price of everything going crazy, many of the other nurses were working overtime, too. A few years ago, working weekend and holiday hours was easy, now th ere were lotteries to secure prized overtime shifts.
She found Wyatt in the kitchen, his gaze fixed on some point in space. A heaping mound of envelopes and circulars were stacked on the table in front of him. “Hey, babe,” she greeted, causing him to focus and then look up.
His expression immediately put her on alert, broadcasting that something was terribly wrong. A weak “Hey,” was his only reply.
“What’s wrong, Wyatt?”
Wyatt’s voice was low and his face grim. “It’s not been a good day, hun. The phone call I’ve been dreading… the merger is off. Rick delivered the news as gently as possible, but it’s still a no-go. He said the partners didn’t want to do anything with what’s going on in the markets right now.”
Morgan moved to his side, “Oh baby. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me and let me know? I would’ve gotten a sub and come home right away. Are you okay?”
Wyatt looked up at her and faked a smile. He reached for the pile of mail in front of him and held up a rather thick bundle of papers. “A deputy came to the door with this a few hours ago.” Morgan looked down at the top sheet, and the print was large and bold. She saw the words, “Notice of Foreclosure,” across the top.
Morgan’s knees suddenly felt very wobbly, and she staggered a little before sitting beside her mate. If Wyatt noticed, he didn’t acknowledge anything. Morgan’s eyes darted from the paper to her husband’s face. His eyes were watery and red, his complexion pale. She leaned across the table and embraced him in a gentle hug. Only a few moments passed by before each was crying on the other’s shoulder.
The couple realized months ago that their house was no longer affordable. Even with Morgan’s extra hours and the cutbacks on household expenses, they couldn’t replace Wyatt’s share of the household income. The mortgage payments were the biggest single expenditure in the budget, and they knew it wouldn’t be long before the bank became impatient.
Fourteen years ago, the couple purchased their home, offering a hefty down payment. Because they never missed an installment and took great pride in the upkeep of both the grounds and residence, Wyatt initially believed there was equity in the property. When the accounting firm began to flounder, Wyatt and Morgan decided they would take two courses of action. First, they would put their homestead up for sale. Even though the house encompassed a lot of memories, the kids were grown now anyway. Their son, David had enlisted in the army. Sage was in college, on a full scholarship and living off campus in her own apartment. As the only two full-time residents, Wyatt and Morgan simply didn’t require 4,000 square feet of living space.
The second means of stabilizing their finances involved applying for a mortgage modification. Years ago, the government had forced the banks to offer various programs designed to help people struggling through the down economy. In the off chance that the house did not move quickly, Wyatt would maneuver through the necessary paperwork to complete this process.
Within a few days, Wyatt and Morgan stood with a young realtor after finishing a pre-listing walkthrough of their home. The house-peddler had bad news. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think your home will sell for more than $200,000. It’s a wonderful space, but the kitchen and master bath are outdated, and there are hundreds of competitors on the market right now.”
Wyatt was shocked. “But we paid more than $400,000 for this place almost 15 years ago. I still owe $250,000 on the note. Things are that bad?”
The realtor had expected the reaction. She hated this part, no matter how many times she had to deliver bad news; she would never
She found Wyatt in the kitchen, his gaze fixed on some point in space. A heaping mound of envelopes and circulars were stacked on the table in front of him. “Hey, babe,” she greeted, causing him to focus and then look up.
His expression immediately put her on alert, broadcasting that something was terribly wrong. A weak “Hey,” was his only reply.
“What’s wrong, Wyatt?”
Wyatt’s voice was low and his face grim. “It’s not been a good day, hun. The phone call I’ve been dreading… the merger is off. Rick delivered the news as gently as possible, but it’s still a no-go. He said the partners didn’t want to do anything with what’s going on in the markets right now.”
Morgan moved to his side, “Oh baby. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me and let me know? I would’ve gotten a sub and come home right away. Are you okay?”
Wyatt looked up at her and faked a smile. He reached for the pile of mail in front of him and held up a rather thick bundle of papers. “A deputy came to the door with this a few hours ago.” Morgan looked down at the top sheet, and the print was large and bold. She saw the words, “Notice of Foreclosure,” across the top.
Morgan’s knees suddenly felt very wobbly, and she staggered a little before sitting beside her mate. If Wyatt noticed, he didn’t acknowledge anything. Morgan’s eyes darted from the paper to her husband’s face. His eyes were watery and red, his complexion pale. She leaned across the table and embraced him in a gentle hug. Only a few moments passed by before each was crying on the other’s shoulder.
The couple realized months ago that their house was no longer affordable. Even with Morgan’s extra hours and the cutbacks on household expenses, they couldn’t replace Wyatt’s share of the household income. The mortgage payments were the biggest single expenditure in the budget, and they knew it wouldn’t be long before the bank became impatient.
Fourteen years ago, the couple purchased their home, offering a hefty down payment. Because they never missed an installment and took great pride in the upkeep of both the grounds and residence, Wyatt initially believed there was equity in the property. When the accounting firm began to flounder, Wyatt and Morgan decided they would take two courses of action. First, they would put their homestead up for sale. Even though the house encompassed a lot of memories, the kids were grown now anyway. Their son, David had enlisted in the army. Sage was in college, on a full scholarship and living off campus in her own apartment. As the only two full-time residents, Wyatt and Morgan simply didn’t require 4,000 square feet of living space.
The second means of stabilizing their finances involved applying for a mortgage modification. Years ago, the government had forced the banks to offer various programs designed to help people struggling through the down economy. In the off chance that the house did not move quickly, Wyatt would maneuver through the necessary paperwork to complete this process.
Within a few days, Wyatt and Morgan stood with a young realtor after finishing a pre-listing walkthrough of their home. The house-peddler had bad news. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think your home will sell for more than $200,000. It’s a wonderful space, but the kitchen and master bath are outdated, and there are hundreds of competitors on the market right now.”
Wyatt was shocked. “But we paid more than $400,000 for this place almost 15 years ago. I still owe $250,000 on the note. Things are that bad?”
The realtor had expected the reaction. She hated this part, no matter how many times she had to deliver bad news; she would never
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