Some years ago, when Sabina and I decided Morocco was our Kashmir, Weathertop Manor was for sale. Though it was more than we could afford, we fell for it anyway. It was a one-hundred twenty-someodd old Victorian that was once a bed and breakfast hostel, which sits next to the cantina. It was purchased within a month of us scoping it. Sabina was a little morose about it.
As an example of things not being as they seem, we later found out Weathertop Manor did not have much land to it. The southwest corner of the house could potentially flood because of marshiness caused by the Brewery Spring that runs between it and the cantina. It turned out to be for the best that we didn't get it.
The cat who purchased Weathertop Manor lost his place, up and over, in a breakup. Morocco was not Kashmir to him, but a place to regroup. Just a place. He looked at me as though I was insane when I mentioned the concept of Kashmir to him. He did not appreciate the one-hundred twenty-someodd old Victorian for what it was.
Sometime during the winter, I began to notice a decided lack of activity around Weathertop Manor. Then, the notices began to appear on the front door. The outcome was both sad and obvious; it had been abandoned and there were events in motion to give possession of the property to a bank.
It's tragic because that beautiful Victorian might sit vacant for quite some time. And gods and bodhisattvas know what the cat may have done to it. Repairs and renovations might be a long and expensive process.
But then it'll be for sale again. Maybe not for as much as when Sabina and I wistfully thought about it, but so it goes. Maybe some seasonal snowbirds or real-world dropouts, like us, will purchase it. Whatever the case, I just hope whoever does purchase Weathertop Manor will appreciate the one-hundred twenty-someodd old Victorian for what it is.