get accustomed to it. “Yes, things are that bad. I know you probably think I’m just trying to low ball your home to get a quick commission,” she answered, anticipating their unstated objection. “But I’m not. If you have a little time this weekend, I will be happy to show you some of my listings. Once you get a feel for what the market has to offer, you will see – there are hundreds of homes larger and more modern than yours, and most are listed for significantly less than what you owe. You’re not alone. I meet so many people who are in the same boat. That’s why you read so much about people just walking away from their homes.”
Morgan and Wyatt had taken her up on the offer and returned in a soured mood. The agent had been right, there was no way anyone would buy their property, based on what was available. Clearly, people were desperate to get out of their mortgages.
Plan-B was the mortgage modification. For two whole days, Wyatt filled out the endless forms required by the lender. The process bought them some time, but in the end, their request was rejected. Their income didn’t meet the modification guidelines. The final rejection letter arrived less than a month ago.
Wyatt shook his head, thinking the bank hadn’t wasted any time throwing them out.
Overcome by the finality of their loss, tears flowed freely while the two silently hugged, both of their minds racing with questions. It was Morgan who broke the embrace and reached out to hold her husband’s hand. As gently as possible, she asked, “What are we going to do, Wyatt? Will they put us out in the street?”
Wyatt shook his head and pointed to a paragraph on the letter. “It says here we have 30 days. I think at that point in time, we’ll have to be out.”
Morgan nodded her understanding and then reached across the table, removing the paper from his grasp. She gently took his other hand in hers and squeezed. “We’ll think of something, Wyatt. We always do. As long as we’re together, it will be all right.”
Wyatt’s next statement surprised her. “Actually, I have a plan. I’ve been thinking about it for hours, and while it’s not perfect, I don’t see much of an alternative. I’m a little hesitant to tell you though. It seems like I haven’t been the best planner lately.”
Morgan relaxed in her chair, not sure if Wyatt had finally lost it, or if she should be pleased with his inspiration. “Okay, I’m all ears, Wyatt. I hope it doesn’t involve a tent, because you know my idea of camping is sleeping in a hotel that doesn’t offer room service.”
Morgan’s declaration set off a short session of gallows humor. Wyatt smiled and said, “No, no tent. I have a bridge all picked out. We can decorate in neo-modern cardboard, and I’ll woo you with the shiniest shopping cart under the overpass.”
Morgan laughed and shook her head. “Save some of that cardboard. I’ll make you a sign saying, ‘Will do accounting for food.’” Their snickering quickly faded, both realizing the jokes weren’t all that unrealistic.
Wyatt reached for a bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of the table and pulled out an orange. He moved to the sink and dug his thumb into the skin, peeling back a long section. “Seriously Morgan, I’ve got an idea, but I don’t want to overwhelm you so soon. If you want to wait until the shock of all this has worn off, I’ll be glad to go over my grand scheme a little later.”
Morgan smiled up at him, “I’ll tell you what. You give me a few sections of that orange, and I’ll lend you my ear. Besides, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway.”
Wyatt’s expression betrayed the fact he was having doubts about sharing his solution. As the business was failing, Morgan noticed more and more indecision and self-doubt in his eyes. Who could blame him , she thought. It seemed like everything he attempted, planned, or believed in had evaporated into thin air. Any normal person would begin to
Morgan and Wyatt had taken her up on the offer and returned in a soured mood. The agent had been right, there was no way anyone would buy their property, based on what was available. Clearly, people were desperate to get out of their mortgages.
Plan-B was the mortgage modification. For two whole days, Wyatt filled out the endless forms required by the lender. The process bought them some time, but in the end, their request was rejected. Their income didn’t meet the modification guidelines. The final rejection letter arrived less than a month ago.
Wyatt shook his head, thinking the bank hadn’t wasted any time throwing them out.
Overcome by the finality of their loss, tears flowed freely while the two silently hugged, both of their minds racing with questions. It was Morgan who broke the embrace and reached out to hold her husband’s hand. As gently as possible, she asked, “What are we going to do, Wyatt? Will they put us out in the street?”
Wyatt shook his head and pointed to a paragraph on the letter. “It says here we have 30 days. I think at that point in time, we’ll have to be out.”
Morgan nodded her understanding and then reached across the table, removing the paper from his grasp. She gently took his other hand in hers and squeezed. “We’ll think of something, Wyatt. We always do. As long as we’re together, it will be all right.”
Wyatt’s next statement surprised her. “Actually, I have a plan. I’ve been thinking about it for hours, and while it’s not perfect, I don’t see much of an alternative. I’m a little hesitant to tell you though. It seems like I haven’t been the best planner lately.”
Morgan relaxed in her chair, not sure if Wyatt had finally lost it, or if she should be pleased with his inspiration. “Okay, I’m all ears, Wyatt. I hope it doesn’t involve a tent, because you know my idea of camping is sleeping in a hotel that doesn’t offer room service.”
Morgan’s declaration set off a short session of gallows humor. Wyatt smiled and said, “No, no tent. I have a bridge all picked out. We can decorate in neo-modern cardboard, and I’ll woo you with the shiniest shopping cart under the overpass.”
Morgan laughed and shook her head. “Save some of that cardboard. I’ll make you a sign saying, ‘Will do accounting for food.’” Their snickering quickly faded, both realizing the jokes weren’t all that unrealistic.
Wyatt reached for a bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of the table and pulled out an orange. He moved to the sink and dug his thumb into the skin, peeling back a long section. “Seriously Morgan, I’ve got an idea, but I don’t want to overwhelm you so soon. If you want to wait until the shock of all this has worn off, I’ll be glad to go over my grand scheme a little later.”
Morgan smiled up at him, “I’ll tell you what. You give me a few sections of that orange, and I’ll lend you my ear. Besides, I’m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway.”
Wyatt’s expression betrayed the fact he was having doubts about sharing his solution. As the business was failing, Morgan noticed more and more indecision and self-doubt in his eyes. Who could blame him , she thought. It seemed like everything he attempted, planned, or believed in had evaporated into thin air. Any normal person would begin to
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