Marcus pulled out his tablet and brought up his calculator. He showed her the breakdown: the projected after-repair value based on neighborhood comps, minus the estimated $80,000 in repair and clean-out costs, minus his company's profit margin.
Waiting for him was Elena. She was in her late fifties, with tired eyes and hands that she kept burying deep in the pockets of her knitted cardigan.
"Yes, ma'am. Great to finally meet you in person," Marcus said, offering a warm, practiced smile. "Thank you for showing me the place." we buy houses portland oregon
Marcus pulled out a flashlight and began his assessment. He looked past the hoard, focusing on the bones of the house. He checked the corners for structural settling. He looked at the ceiling for water stains that would indicate a failing roof. He peeked behind a stack of National Geographic magazines to look at the electrical panel—old screw-in fuses. That would need a complete update.
"Marcus?" she asked, her voice barely rising above the sound of passing traffic. Marcus pulled out his tablet and brought up his calculator
True to his word, Marcus closed the deal at the local title company in downtown Portland exactly eight days after their meeting. Elena received her wire transfer, gave Marcus a tearful hug of pure relief, and boarded a train back to Washington.
The house on SE 92nd Avenue was a 1924 craftsman that had seen much better days. The gray paint was peeling in large, brittle flakes, revealing the weathered cedar siding beneath. The front yard, which might have once held a beautiful garden, was now a jungle of overgrown blackberry bushes and knee-high grass. She was in her late fifties, with tired
Marcus parked his clean, silver SUV at the curb and stepped out into the misty Portland afternoon. He adjusted his jacket and walked up the cracked concrete path to the porch.