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Illustration: Drew Shannon
After renting cottages and farmhouses for weekend getaways, I decided to get my own second home outside of Toronto. I left an old-fashioned compass in the city center and marked his destination, an hour and a half away. I didn't want to live in a commuter town.
I spent the weekend driving north, east, and west of Toronto. After much consideration, I settled on a village near Guelph, Ontario. Then, an acquaintance who lives there took me on a tour of the town and gave me inside information about each residence. That's small town life. As the sun was setting, he stopped outside his Regency villa, circa 1870, and said: “A friend of mine lives here and is thinking of selling it. He would like to do it privately. Would you like to see it?”
I'm sure that's the case. Surrounding this quaint home was a dynamite garden. It was on a one-third acre lot and had lots of space for plants and flowers. So arrangements were made to see it the following weekend. My friend introduced me to the owner, Mr. Allen (a widow) and then left us to be shown around. It was fun meeting him and the house was perfect. The ceilings were high and the floors were made of wide pine planks. It had a great flow and was great for entertainment. (I even noticed his Saturday Globe and Mail crossword puzzle covered in ink on the kitchen table.)
I bought a house and the owner moved to a smaller house in town. We met once for lunch to discuss the house and garden. He gently asked, “Have you ever gardened before?” Honestly, no. That must have been discouraging for him. He spent most of his time beautifying the grounds.
I was still working in the city for a while and came in on a Friday night to spruce up the new place. I had all the rooms painted and visited antique stores in town. One owner told me: “You bought Al's house, but his wife hates you.”
Allen often came to work in the garden. I deeply appreciated him and invited him for drinks one day.
He told me that he had been a widow for six years and had turned down every opportunity to change his status. This required some persistence, but he stuck to his plan.
Not long after, he asked me out for dinner, but he made it clear to his friends that this wasn't a date. I accepted the invitation and had dinner at his home a few weeks later. We started spending more weekends together and eventually told my friends in Toronto about him.
Friends from the city warned me that even small towns have scammers, and that they might just want to sell their house, save up some money, and then move back in. They came to check on him.
Allen passed the test.
They also hired a gardener to tend 13 beds of perennial flowers and shrubs. Therefore, the property maintained its beauty from summer to autumn.
As I drove up Friday night, I called Allen to tell him I was on my way and stopped at his house where he was preparing dinner. It was a very ideal way of life. I gradually got to know his friends in town, and he started inviting me to dinner parties once a month.
We both love crossword puzzles and have graduated to the daily New York Times puzzles in addition to the weekly Globe puzzles. We assembled the first successful effort for the Sunday New York Times.
We started spending all our time together and after 3 months I gave him a drawer where he could store his things at home. Allen liked to go for walks in the early morning, so he could start straight from his house instead of going down the hill to his house to change. A big first step. We started thinking of ourselves as a couple and decided to be engaged forever. Considering our ages are 52 and 69, it made the most sense. He even bought me a ring at a pawn shop to celebrate.
He knew that I had rheumatoid arthritis and that the medicine was very expensive. One night, as I was preparing dinner, Al came into the kitchen and she said, “If my drug plan covers your medications, then maybe we got married?” Ta.
“Is this a proposal?” I asked. “Because if that's the case, that's pretty lame.”
“Well, I think it's one. What do you think?”
I turned down the heat on the onion, put my arm around him, and said, “Yes!”
Three months later we were married in the garden and then left for a three-month honeymoon in the south of France. (after he sold the townhouse)
So, I bought Allen's house, he moved out for 14 months, and then moved back in. Love works in strange ways.
Penny Lipsett lives in Elora, Ontario.
