134. Maybe No, Probably Yes

When I called Lance and asked him if he was my landlord, he gave a quiet laugh and asked me to walk down the road to see him. I had never been in his house. Walking up the driveway I beheld a lovely large home sided in cedar and sitting on a huge outcropping of rock. On its own plateau, the structure was placed only twenty feet away from the face of the mountain. The giant expanse of glass spanning the entire front wall of the house spoke to at least one purpose of this mountain retreat, to surround one’s self in luxury while enjoying a gorgeous view of the entire valley and the mountains off to the west past Woodstock.

“I don’t own the monastery,” Lance said.  “You found a copy of the deed to just the five acres down here on the point” said Lance, after he settled me down in a chair that allowed a panorama of what must be half of creation. “Sparky needed the money and I paid him $250,000.”

This wasn’t the first time I wondered how the heck anyone could have so much money.

“Wait a minute,” I said.  “Why does St. Anne keep pressuring me to sell what he calls “14 acres” if there’s only nine acres left?”

“He doesn’t know Sparky sold it to me,”  Lance replied

“Could Sparky sell it to you?  I thought all property was in Fermoy’s name?”  I said.

“Not this property.  Sparky told me when he accepted the call to lead this monastery, he convinced St. Anne to put the place in the Abbot’s name so he could more easily get a mortgage here if he wanted to borrow money for leverage as he tried to make the place a reasonable property.  St.Anne probably agreed because he saw potential in both the monastery grounds and in Sparky, who had turned places around before.  Plus, I’d bet St. Anne was worried about liability and figured it would rest squarely on Sparky if he was the owner of record.  And of course it would be unheard of for an Abbot to NOT turn over any assets or cash to Fermoy.”  Lance said this while giving me a wink.  He continued, “No abbot has ever refused. That’s why St. Anne is hysterically upset over your insubordination.  He’s afraid you won’t send him any money if the place sells.”

 “He’s right,” I said.  “I wouldn’t.  You’ve been talking to St. Anne.  I didn’t know the two of you were friends.”

“He constantly wants to borrow money from me,” said Lance.  “But I can’t lend money to someone who doesn’t know how to handle it.”

“And he doesn’t know you bought this property?” I said.  “What does he think of your house sitting here on it?”

Lance chuckled.  “St. Anne doesn’t know that, either.”

“How the heck did the two of you ever come to know each other?”  I asked.

Lance looked away and said, “Oh, you know.  International money circles.”

Quite a coincidence, I thought.

“But what did Sparky do with the money?” I asked.  “$250,000 dollars?”

“He had a bank account,” said Lance, “and he spent a lot of the money quickly. He told me he went through the entire amount in less than five years.”

“Wine, women and song?”  I laughed, hoping against hope that wasn’t true.

“I think you knew your abbot better than that,” said Lance.  “Sparky gave it away to missions, local food pantries,  things like that.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand?”  I marveled at that amount of money.

“That’s what Sparky said,” continued Lance, “but for some reason I didn’t believe him.”

“Why?”  I asked.

“Sparky and I used to talk fairly often,” he said.  “He came down here for coffee.  You abbot was very worried about what would happen to you guys when he died. He knew for a long time about his cancer.  Sparky would have put most of that money aside for you Brothers.”

“Where?” I asked.

Lance shrugged his shoulders.  “That I don’t know, he said.”

A turkey buzzard landed on the rail outside the sliding doors at one end of the transparent wall of glass. I had never seen one up close. The bird was truly ugly.

“Saint Anne sent Agnes here to get rid of us and sell the monastery,” I said.

“I figured,” said Lance.

“He never did a single thing except list the house with Sally.”

“Sounds like he didn’t care much either way,” said Lance.

“I don’t know what Agnes cared about,” I said. “I wonder if he knew about the $250,000 or what might be left of it.”

“If it exists and if you find it, you could use whatever is left.” said Lance.  “Without it, you'll need cash for operating expenses, food … how will you Brothers manage that?”

“We thought of  taking in guests,” I said, still harboring a desire for a quick money solution.

“A retreat house!” laughed Lance. “Do you think anyone will want to come to such a run-down place? They might not think it’s safe.”

“I think some people might still consider it very … safe,” I said,  a bit indignantly, wondering if I should call Albert back and ask him to take a chance and give us just one more “guest.”  But I have to keep myself from jumping for the brass ring of convenience.  Harpo is right.  We wait on the Lord.