The Time Harvester by D.A.Sanford - HTML preview

Our new home aka a money pit

I’m tired. I just put in a marathon on my project. The customer reviewed it and approved my work.

Finally, I pull into my driveway. I look at the house we bought. I take pride that I can take a concept, an idea, and flesh it out to make a product that people will buy. I, for the life of me, cannot see the beauty my wife saw.

My view from where I stopped my car is a large area that used to be a rich person’s Victorian house on a hill. It is old and to say it needed work is an understatement. We got it at a blight town listing so it was mostly the behind taxes. The reason it was not snatched up was that the land alone would not cover the cost of the tree clearing and demolition of the house.

The trees, old growth among the new growth among the saplings, there is not any sunlight getting to the weeds let alone lawn. What would be lawn is leaf litter and briar.

The house itself is not falling down. That is the best I can say. This house once was a stately manor but now, a coat of paint would not stick. Shutters are hanging, windows are cracked or boarded over. I do think that the gingerbread trim is the only thing supporting the wrap around porch.

Going out on a limb, which there a lot of, this is a money pit that my wife is in love with. My only hope in this whole disaster is that it is lock, stock and barrel. Meaning that there is all the accumulated items of the last owner. There may be enough to at least cover the cost of paint.

My wife’s car is in front of me. My car is barely off the road. The rest of the drive is covered by saplings to maybe ten year growth. I open my trunk and start my new chain saw. I told her that I was going to clear the drive then I was going to sleep in my back seat. She insists that she will get the bedroom clean.

I won’t sleep on a mattress that someone died on.

With those trees gone from the driveway, as I figured, total removal and repave. More money, More money.

“I’m tired honey,” I tell Shela, “I’m going to nap in the car and then clear a space. I’m renting a trailer for us to live in while we figure out what we are going to do.”

“I do not understand why you cannot see how beautiful this will look when we finish.” She tells me. “Steve, you can design a product that stuns the world but you just lack the imagination to see the vision I see. Get that trailer. The electrician said that the power company refuses to reconnect the house. Something about still being the hazardous knob and tube wiring.”

I throw my hands up and just say, “Figures.”

I get some sleep then tackle the area that I want the trailer parked in. It was the flat area in front of the carriage house. I have not been in it so I sucked it up, unlocked and opened the door. Those hinges gave that classic groan and squeal as they moved .

Inside, putting aside the amount of dust covering everything, in both of the carriage bays were two cars that were from the late 1920’s or early thirties. I can see that they will be able to be sold for a goodly profit. I leave them for later.

On the left side of the building, there is a door. I open it and find a stairway to the upper floor. In true style, the stairs and trim are still in very good condition. Dust only. White walls with a rich brown stained wood that was varnished. Even the stair treads show signs of constant care. No signs of wear.

At the top is a period panel door. I want to go up but I need a flashlight. I find Shela and get one from her. I tell her about the cars and the stairs. She is interested and tags along with me. We both climb the stairs but, due to the dust, we have M95 masks and gloves.

We find that door is also locked. Shela brings tags so we can keep track of the keys when we find out where they go. It took a while but finally I had the one that opened the door. I let her tag that one as carriage upper room.

We each turned on our flash lights and slowly went in. We have found where a lot of the keys go. There before us is a long open room full of what look like steamer trunks. I try to move one but it is heavy. We find the key for that lock and open it.

Let’s just say that our renovation finances have just gotten a boost. We were looking at a trunk full of silver dollars. Checking dates, the newest ones we found in a sample was 1935. The trunk was very large so it had to be many thousands of coins. The collector value had to be over a half a million. This was just the first. We opened a few more.

Clothes, jewelry and such. Collectable but not like the first. I make my way towards the far end and open another. Inside there are an assortment of odd objects. They are obviously not normal items. Each seem to not be from the last known year of occupation. Most could be explained as being passed down from ancestors but there are items that are too modern. Even ahead of our time. This just got interesting

I tell Shela that I am staying home. I called in to work and told them that I needed to take a month’s vacation. I had set it up before I finished the project but after we bought this place. They agreed with the proviso that the project had to be finished and accepted.

With what we have found so far, I may never need that job.

“Shela, my dear, I don’t think that I will get the trailer. This Is going to be our apartment for a while. We need to do things in the house and yard. Make a visible presence here. We need to go through each of these chests. In more than one of them, I think that we will find things that will allow us never to work again.”

She has seen this and agrees. I find a table and two chairs up here and a bucket. We fill the bucket with the silver and start sorting by date. Much to our shock but not our dismay, we find that there are mixed in with the silver are twenty dollar gold pieces. I need to take a breath.

In the morning, I find a coin dealer on the web. Taking five of the gold and twenty of the older silver, I go to the shop and talk to the clerk.

“I have some gold and silver coins I would like to sell. I have collected them for a hedge for economic times but now I’m not that paranoid.”

The clerk is actually the owner. He lays down a cloth on the counter. I hand him my box with the tissue wrapped coins. One look as he unwraps each, I can see that he is trying hard not to look excited but he is losing.

I find that he is honest. “When did you get these? Each of these are rare, especially the silver. That is saying something because the gold is rare also.”

The reason I say he is honest is because he opens his tablet and pulls up what each sells for. Now I had to lean against the counter. Just these coins amounted to a quarter of a million. I told him that I had them for quite a while.

“My work is such that I make a very large salary. They were bought as a hedge but over the years I paid no attention to their worth. I do have more that I may sell in the future. So what are you offering?”

He offers two hundred thousand and then pulls out the government paperwork. I have to ask,.

”What’s with the paperwork?”

He tells me that this is the standard. The government wants their cut.

“I have to ask, is there any way around that. They already take too much from me. I want to sell more but if the government gets involved, I’ll go broke.”

He walks to the door, locks it and now we go into the back.

“I have contacts, I don’t think I need to say more. I can act as the go between on this. I also recommend that you go to an accountant that I know. She knows her way around the paperwork you are going to need to cover you and will advise you about your public conduct. If I read you, I feel that you have more than a few more. Fifteen percent of what I can get for you for each transaction.

If you accept this, I will set up the accountant today. She will set up an account for you. Again her fee is a cut.”

I think about it. With what we found in only a few of those chests.

“Make the calls.” I put out my hand. “With what you just told me, it shows that I can trust you. You gave me enough information to know that I could mess with you if you mess with me.”

He tells me that was his intention. “I don’t buy that you did not pay attention to the market after buying these.”

“You got me. I will just say that these are not stolen. I had an old relative that left me their property.”

He makes the call and gives me the directions. We shake and he gives me his private card.