Tradition Trade-up

“Reasonably priced real estate along a waterfront!” the ad screamed.

I scanned the ads quickly that night and decided that the waterfront property was a bargain if the remainder of the ad was accurate. Entering the address into my phone, I leapt up from my chair and grabbed a coat. It was freezing outside and would be colder by the water. November nights were always cold but this close to Thanksgiving we were lucky that we hadn’t had snow too.

Although I was used to driving to properties at night to inspect them for prospective buyers, the waterfront wasn’t the safest place to be after dark. Thankfully, I carried a personal alarm and a can of pepper spray everywhere. 

“If any one of the creepy people attacks me, they will get the surprise of their life!” I thought to myself.

As I parked my jeep in a dark, unlighted area, I felt a little less secure. I opened my car door and stepped into the cold, wrestling with my collar to pull it closer to my face, partially to stay warm and partially to hide behind.

I walked closer to the door of the property and that’s when I noticed the row of people huddled against the building, some with blankets, others covered with newspapers. The only sounds were my footsteps on the wooden walkway and the raspy breathing of one of the sidewalk people.

“Eve’nin,” said a quiet voice, sitting below the lockbox on the doorknob. It was a man wearing a torn coat and a baseball cap. He rose, making an odd rustling noise. With the help of the dim light from a distance streetlight, I could see his pleasant smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes as he tipped his cap to me. but I could feel that the warmth was genuine.

Something about his eyes made me feel that he was no danger to me. They were a very deep black and seemed to radiate kindness.

“Good evening to you too,” I responded. “It is so cold out tonight. Is there somewhere you and your friends can go?”

The building was still locked and my phone which held the app that would open was in my hand. Maybe I should have opened the door and gone inside, but I felt no rush to get away from him. It was quite the opposite; I wanted to talk with him.

“There is nowhere to go. The shelters are full, and we are not welcome in most places, not even for a few minutes to warm up,” he said.

“The soup kitchen is full but when it empties out some of us will be allowed in to eat what they have left,” he added.

As if on cue, the hungry group of down-and-outers started to rise and began their trek to find a place to come in from the cold and eat, even if was just a short time.

The man remained behind with me. He lifted his hand as if to shake mine. I was hesitant at first, but his demeanor was so calm I felt I had nothing to fear and grasped his gloved hand in mine.

“My name’s Jesse,” he said.

“I’m Mary,” I began. “I’m just checking out this building for a possible buyer.”

“I will stay out here while you do that,” Jesse answered. “There can be some dishonest people that hang out here sometimes.”

Upon hearing that, I had to hold back a laugh. I felt so comfortable around this man now yet was afraid of the entire group when I first walked up the walkway.

The lockbox beeped as I held out my phone and entered the building. Once I switched on the big overhead lights, the front lit up warmly. There was a large open area and several smaller offices that appeared down the hallways that branched out behind it.

In its early days this building had been some type of office. It was shaped like a square but open in the center containing an open courtyard. Each office was small but had a window overlooking the bare ground.

The client I had in mind could very well be interested, but the location could be a problem. I would have to find a good way to pitch good over bad to him!

I had almost forgotten about my encounter with Jesse, but when I opened the door to leave, he was standing to the right of the entrance, waiting for me.

“I would like to walk you to your car to keep you safe,” he offered.

“Oh, no – you don’t have to do that, but thank you,” I answered. “My car is only a short distance.”

“I understand. I will keep an eye on everything until you drive away,” he replied.

Most men dressed as he was, in the dark in a rough part of town, offering to walk me to my car would creep me out, but I thought of his eyes and the peaceful feeling that being around him gave me.

“Thank you for that, Jesse. It was a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully you are not too late to get something to eat with your friends.”

I turned and walked to my car, feeling his watchful presence and I felt no fear. As I drove away, I wondered what situation led this nice man to homelessness and his reliance on shelters and soup kitchens for his survival.

The next morning, I contacted the buyer I had in mind for the waterfront building. We agreed to meet later that afternoon so he could tour it and take some notes and measurements of his own.

I was happy about a sunny weather forecast, because that sort of weather usually puts buyers in a more cheerful mood, and I was hopeful that this buyer’s mood would change for the better. He had been quite negative throughout the time I’d already spent with him and though I followed his list of “wants” closely, he always found something lacking no matter what I showed him.

We met at the waterfront and went inside. Even though the location wasn’t the best for an office, the building presented well and looked even better with its rooms lit up by the sun.

“Well, I don’t know,” Mr. Abbott began, “I don’t know what I would do with so many small offices. I like to have my employees share so they don’t feel superior to anyone else. I’m the only one with an office to myself.”

“Possibly a contractor could give you an idea of the cost in removing walls and expanding the spaces to hold more than one person,” I offered.

“It’s not a part of town my employees will feel safe in. I wouldn’t either,” he argued.

After a little discussion Mr. Abbott agreed to contact a couple of local contractors to give him bids on changing some of the inside walls. He was in better spirits than usual today, but I was careful not to be too optimistic.

Mr. Abbott drove away, and I wandered through the building, trying to imagine the changes he had in mind. 

“He’s probably right,” I thought. “It may not be the place for him or anyone afraid of this part of town.”

I walked out the door and turned to make sure it was locked once again.

Just then, I saw Jesse standing off to the side of the front door. Startled, I jumped and dropped my phone on the walkway.

Jesse bent over to retrieve my phone and handed it to me, smiling his apology.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I just wondered if you got the sale. For your sake I hope so, but if someone moves in again my friends and I will need to sleep somewhere else.”

“Too early to tell,” I answered. “I should know in a couple of days.”

Looking around I noticed that only Jesse and I were there. I wasn’t afraid, but I was a little curious.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked.

“Most of them found room at the shelter for supper and for the night,” Jesse said. “I can sleep right here – I’m used to it.”

“How will you stay warm?” I asked him. It was already cold enough that I was shivering.

Jesse opened his coat and lifted the bottom of his shirt. Stuffed inside was a bundle of newspapers.

“Works just like insulation in a house,” he said with a big smile.

“What will you do for food?”

“I can go without until tomorrow or something will turn up. Many times, we have found food in tin pans inside the dumpster behind the Italian restaurant. The owner has food left that he cannot serve the next day so sometimes he leaves it for us.”

I thought of the big meal I was planning to serve my family and friends tomorrow for Thanksgiving and felt a bit guilty. We would be in a warm house with more food than we could eat, and this man was hoping for dumpster meals. 

“Tomorrow is a holiday; have you nowhere to go? No one to spend it with?”

“No,” he answered. “But I am thankful for what I do have. There are places I can sleep if I move on in the morning, I can eat at the soup kitchen or we can find it somewhere, and I have people to care for out here.”

The gratitude on his face showed. He had nothing, yet he was grateful. Here I was just hopeful to make more money on the sale of this building.

I was hit by a feeling of guilt, then one of urgency. I had to get home and start cooking and baking for tomorrow.

“It was nice to see you again, Jesse. Take care of yourself.” I wished him a happy Thanksgiving, got into my car and drove away.

The phone on my desk rang its usual annoying ring the next morning.

“Who would be calling me at 7:30 in the morning at the office on Thanksgiving?” I wondered. I only came in to finish a little paperwork I hadn’t gotten to the day before – the office was closed for the holiday until next Monday.

“Good morning,” I said to the early caller.

“Abbott here. I want to put in an offer for the waterfront. Today.”

“It’s Thanksgiving Day, Mr. Abbott,” I replied. “I have a lot going on, but I could meet you later this afternoon.”

“Good. I’ll call later with details,” Mr. Abbott replied, and he hung up.

Close to thirty minutes later I needed to start out for home so I could make a quick detour to the waterfront to do a quick run-through before writing up the purchase contract for Mr. Abbott. That could shorten the time spent with him later. Time he was taking me away from family and friends on a holiday.

I pulled into my usual spot as near to the building as possible and opened the lockbox to go inside.

Almost immediately the door opened, and Jesse walked in.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he shouted. “I didn’t want to startle you, but I saw you drive up as I was on my way to the soup kitchen and I wanted to wish you a happy day first,” Jesse explained.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, Jesse.” Again, I felt the warmth from his personality and his genuine happiness.

Acting on impulse, I asked, “what will you do if they don’t have room today?”

“I will wait and hope something is left over, but if not, then I will wait until tomorrow,” he said quietly, the smile never leaving his face.

“Please come to my home and spend the holiday with my family and me,” I urged. “We have more than enough and would be happy to have you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Jesse started, “I am a stranger to your family and actually to you too.”

“You are a good man – I can sense it,” I said. And I meant it. “Please join us! You can ride back with me, and I can take you wherever you need to be later. Mr. Abbott is going to put in an offer on this building so I will be coming back today anyway.”

Jesse looked around and then down at his feet. He didn’t speak, but I wondered if he was thinking that he wasn’t dressed well enough or looked clean enough.

“My family will welcome you,” I said. “Please come with me.”

I wanted to help this man, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the warmth in his eyes or the feeling of calm that seemed to surround him.

He finally looked up and said, “I thank you for your invitation. Could I meet you there?”

We agreed he would be at my home by 1:00 PM and I gave him the address. Driving off I made a list in my head of all the tasks I had waiting for me to make this meal a great one. At the same time, I was hoping Jesse wouldn’t change his mind and back out.

A few short hours later, the feast was almost ready to be placed on the table. My family and friends were sitting in the living room visiting, laughing and enjoying themselves 

I was just lifting the turkey out of the oven when the doorbell rang. 

“He’s here!” I thought, excited to have my new friend join us.

My son opened the door before I got to it and there stood Jesse, but not the Jesse I was accustomed to seeing. The man who stood before us was wearing a nicer coat, clean clothes and shoes and he had freshly combed hair. He still had a beard, but it was trimmed nicely, his warm black eyes holding a twinkle above the bright smile on his face.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Jesse!” I exclaimed. “You look wonderful! Please come in.”

“Salvation Army,” he whispered. “I got clothes and a cleanup.”

Jesse entered the living room with me and introductions were made. I discovered his last name was Joseph and he was a great conversationalist. Before long I could tell that he’d won over everyone in the room.

The meal was great, and the company was even greater. It seemed that everyone else may have assumed that Jesse was a client, so he didn’t have to explain how we knew each other.

As all holidays go, we stuffed ourselves but this time, no one could make room for pumpkin pie.

Several of us began to clear the table and load the dishwasher. I surveyed the leftovers. There was so much food left over!

“Who wants to take food home with them?” I asked. No one volunteered.

“We’re stuffed – can’t even think about eating again,” my brother said. Several other grunts and groans were heard coming from the other guests who had overdone it.

“Jesse, is there anything you’d like to take with you?” I asked.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind, I know where we can make good use of this wonderful food,” Jesse said quietly.

“Absolutely! Let’s pack up all of it!” I exclaimed, and I went back to the kitchen to look for containers. 

I returned to the dining table just a few minutes later. Jesse was already scooping the mashed potatoes into a bowl artfully made with foil wrap. There were other handmade “bowls” sitting next to the potatoes which contained turkey, vegetables and sweet potatoes.

“Where did you get the…” I started.

Jesse lifted the bottom of his shirt. The thickness of newspapers was considerably thinner and a roll of foil had been added.

“I found foil in the dumpster – it was still on the roll in a box, protected from the garbage,” Jesse explained

We finished packing up the bounty and placed the “bowls” inside a box to transport them a little easier. Jesse’s friends would all eat well tonight.

It was time to meet Mr. Abbott to write up his offer. I insisted that Jesse ride back with me, since we were going to the same area anyway. He thanked everyone profusely for sharing their holiday with him and we left.

Mr. Abbott was waiting at the door of the building when we parked the car.

“I’ve decided to buy the building for temporary housing for people who need help,” he explained. “Wife’s idea, blessed by my CPA.”

You could have knocked me down with a feather. Never once did I see Mr. Abbott as a philanthropist, just a businessman.

We signed all the documents, and I put in a call to the listing broker to notify him of the offer. Jesse stepped forward and I introduced him to Mr. Abbott.

“I would like to personally thank you, sir,” he began. “You don’t know how badly this is needed in our area.”

As I drove away, I watched Jesse and Mr. Abbott in my rear window, talking as though they’d known each other for years. I knew he would be watching over the people who needed a place to stay and help them to find their way.

A month later I stopped by the building to see the progress. The reception area was bright, yet cozy. Jesse was there helping an older man sit comfortably in the new TV area. Toward the back I could see the offices were now bedrooms with freshly painted walls.

“Mary!” he shouted. “Welcome!”

“Hello, Jesse,” I answered. We sat at the table and Jesse told me all about the changes being made to help the homeless and forgotten.

That night I told my family the entire story. We decided to make a new holiday tradition involving people who are alone or have been forgotten. Christmas was coming soon. Instead of our usual Christmas dinner, we will be making two meals – one for our family and friends and one for the shelter.