What happens when rock bottom comes with a mortgage? For Rebecca Taylor and her two children, their fresh start looked like this. Peeling paint, a sagging porch, and more problems than one mother with a broken heart and empty bank account could possibly handle. Before we continue, let us know where you’re watching from.
Six months after signing her divorce papers, Rebecca Taylor stood in the pouring rain, staring at what was supposed to be her salvation. A 1930s craftsman home in her childhood hometown, the place she hadn’t lived in for 20 years. The real estate listing had used words like, charming and full of character.
What it should have said was neglected and on the verge of collapse. Sophie, 14, artistic and withdrawn since the divorce, refused to even look at their new home. And 10-year-old Noah’s excitement about a new adventure had just transformed into visible disappointment.
Well, here we are, Rebecca said with forced cheerfulness, her voice echoing in the empty foyer. Home sweet home. The smell hit them first musty, damp, with a hint of something that had died long ago in the walls.
The real estate photos had been strategically cropped and filtered, hiding the water stains that bloomed across the ceiling like yellow flowers. Sophie stepped inside cautiously, her headphones still firmly in place. I can’t believe you made us move here, she muttered heading straight for the stairs.
I’m finding my room. Be careful on those stairs, Rebecca called after her. The inspector said they might be.
A creak and a crash interrupted her as Sophie’s foot went straight through a step. Mom! Sophie screamed. Her leg disappeared up to her knee in splintered wood.
Noah’s eyes widened in fear. Is the house eating her? Rebecca rushed to pull her daughter free, splinters catching on Sophie’s jeans. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Sophie yanked her earbuds out.
This place is a death trap. I hate it here. I hate it.
Six months ago as Rebecca sat across her lawyer, pen hovering over the divorce papers. Once you sign, the house goes to him. Her lawyer reminded her.
Are you sure you don’t want to fight for it? Rebecca shook her head. The kids need stability, not parents who are draining their college funds on legal fees. I’ll figure something out.
That something had come in the form of a phone call from her hometown’s real estate agent. A property had come on the market, the old Wilson place, the house that had belonged to her grandmother’s best friend. The house where she’d spent countless afternoons as a child.
The price was shockingly low, too low, as she was now discovering. That night, the three of them huddled in sleeping bags in the barren living room. Rain continued to pour, finding its way through at least three separate leaks.
Rebecca had placed pots and pans to catch the water, creating an irregular symphony of drips. Remember when we went camping that time in Yosemite? Rebecca tried, passing out slices of cold pizza. This is like that, an indoor camping adventure.
Noah nibbled his pizza, except there are no s’mores, and Dad’s not here. The words hung in the air like the dust motes visible in the beam of their single working lamp. Mom, Sophie said quietly, what happens if we can’t fix this place? We don’t have anywhere else to go, do we? Rebecca swallowed hard, pushing back the panic that threatened to overflow.
We’ll make it work. This house just needs some love. She forced a smile.
Besides, your great-grandmother used to visit here all the time. This house has good bones and good memories. We just need to find them again.
After the kids had finally fallen asleep, Rebecca stepped onto the sagging porch with her phone, trying to find enough signal to make a call. Megan? It’s me. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Her best friend’s voice was a lifeline across the miles. Talk to me, Beck. How bad is it? Remember when I said it needed a little work? I was off by about a century.
Rebecca’s voice cracked. The inspector clearly took a bribe. There are structural issues, electrical problems, plumbing disasters.
I don’t even know where to start. Can you back out? Get your money back. I used everything I had from the divorce settlement.
If I walk away now, we have nothing. Rebecca wiped away a tear. I can’t let the kids see me fall apart….
Sophie’s already barely speaking to me since the divorce, and Noah’s trying so hard to be brave. A silence fell between them. You know what my grandmother used to say, Megan finally offered.
When you can’t see the way forward, start by cleaning what’s right in front of you. The next morning, Rebecca woke before the kids. She found an old broom in a closet and began sweeping the kitchen.
By the time Sophie and Noah stumbled downstairs, she had cleared enough space for their camping stove. Pancakes, she announced, flipping one with determined cheerfulness. And I have good news.
The water’s been turned on, and while the water heater is questionable, we have a functioning bathroom. Sort of. Noah approached the pancakes cautiously.
Are we really going to live here, mom? Rebecca nodded. We are, and we’re going to make it amazing. After breakfast, we’re going to make a plan.
Sophie poked at her pancake. I have a plan. Call dad and tell him this was a mistake.
Rebecca stiffened. Your father has moved on, Sophie. He and Carla are starting their new life, and we’re starting ours.
We didn’t ask for a new life, Sophie shouted. You and dad ruined everything, and now you’ve dragged us to this, this dump. Rebecca felt her controls slipping.
Sophie, I am doing the best I can. Do you think this is what I planned? Do you think I wanted any of this? The silence that followed was broken only by Noah’s small voice. Is that a treehouse out back? Rebecca turned to follow his gaze through the grimy window.
Sure enough, nestled in a massive oak tree was the weathered remains of what had once been a child’s hideaway. I think it is, Rebecca said, grateful for the distraction. Want to check it out after breakfast? Noah nodded eagerly.
As they stood beneath the ancient oak later that morning, Rebecca felt the first genuine smile cross her face. The treehouse was sturdy far more stable than parts of the main house. Someone had built it with love and skill.
Can we fix it up, mom? Noah asked, already reaching for the ladder. Careful, Rebecca cautioned. Let me check it first.
As she climbed the rickety ladder, testing each rung, Rebecca felt something she hadn’t experienced in months. Possibility. The treehouse was small but solid.
It needed new boards, fresh paint, perhaps a real window to replace the cutout square, but it could be saved. Standing in the tiny wooden structure, Rebecca looked out over the yard, overgrown and wild but spacious. Beyond it, she could see the rooftops of the small town where she’d grown up, where everyone knew everyone’s business, for better or worse.
It’s going to be okay up there? Noah called from below. Rebecca looked down at her son’s upturned face, so full of hope and trust despite everything they’d been through. Yes, she said with newfound determination.
It’s going to be okay. That afternoon, Rebecca made a phone call. Hello? Is this Daniel Ortiz? I got your number from the hardware store.
I’ve been told you’re the best contractor in town. I have a project well, more like a hundred projects. It’s the old Wilson place.
There was a low whistle on the other end of the line. The Wilson place? That’s been empty for years. What kind of shape is it in? Rebecca laughed, a slightly hysterical edge to it.
Let’s just say we’re currently using umbrellas indoors. I can come by tomorrow morning to take a look, Daniel offered, but I should warn you, I’m booked with projects for the next few months. I might be able to give you some advice, maybe help with the most urgent issues, but a full renovation, anything would help at this point, Rebecca admitted.
We’ll see you tomorrow. That night, as the kids slept, Rebecca pulled out her laptop, connecting to the weak signal from her phone’s hotspot. She opened a new document entitled Operation Resurrection.
Beneath it, she began a list. Fix roof, urgent. Repair structural damage to stairs and floors.
Update electrical, plumbing issues, kitchen renovation, bathroom upgrades, walls and paint, landscaping. She stared at the list, the enormity of it making her chest tighten. Then she went to her banking app and looked at the balance the last of her divorce settlement after the down payment.
It wasn’t nearly enough. Rebecca opened a new browser tab and typed, how to renovate a house on a shoestring budget. Daniel Ortiz was younger than Rebecca had expected, with capable hands and thoughtful eyes that didn’t betray any shock as he walked through the house, though she knew it must be worse than many projects he’d seen.
The good news, he said after his inspection, is that the foundation is solid. This house was built right the first time. The bad news is pretty much everything else.
They stood in what would eventually be the kitchen. Noah had followed Daniel around like a shadow, hanging on his every word, while Sophie had remained upstairs, exploring the bedrooms. So what’s the prognosis, doctor? Can it be saved? Rebecca tried to keep her tone light.
Daniel nodded slowly. It can. But it’s going to take time, money, and a lot of work.
He handed her a notepad with his assessment and rough cost estimates. Rebecca’s face must have betrayed her shock at the bottom line. I’ve broken it down by priority, Daniel added quickly…
The roof has to come first. There’s no point doing anything else until that’s fixed. I can help you source materials, maybe even get some discounts through my connections.
And your labor costs? Rebecca asked hesitantly. Daniel glanced at Noah, who was pretending not to listen while examining a loose floorboard. I could work weekends, teach you some basics, so you can do some simpler stuff yourself.
That would cut down significantly on cost. Rebecca felt a wave of relief. That would be incredible.
Thank you. Mom, mom. Sophie’s voice echoed from upstairs.
Come up here. You need to see this. Rebecca and Daniel exchanged glances before heading up the precarious staircase.
