Chapter 652: Taking Precautions

Phoebe Huxley cut in. "Obviously, the city is better than the town. But I heard from Lana Steiner that you need good scores to get into Vessaria Middle School. You can’t get in if your grades are bad. Can you really pass, Patrick?"

"I can."

Patrick answered quietly. He was confident he could get in. He was in his third year of junior high, so he still had a year; all he had to do was work hard.

Phoebe Huxley beamed, saying proudly, "Mom thinks you can get in, too. The little one dreamed that all three of you would become top scholars! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s get the house sorted out. We’ll eat out for lunch."

In the future, she would have three—no, four—children in college. You wouldn’t be able to find a single person in all of Clearspring Township more blessed than her. Thinking of the wonderful future ahead, Phoebe Huxley couldn’t stop grinning.

They finally arrived. The house was in an alley behind Vessaria Middle School, only a seven or eight-minute walk away—very close. It was a standalone house with its own courtyard at the very end of the alley, making it exceptionally quiet. The landlord, a refined-looking man in his forties with glasses and a Zhongshan suit, had kept it remarkably tidy. Though he spoke the Vessaria dialect, it was with a slight accent.

On the way, Patrick had explained the landlord’s situation. The man was a teacher at Vessaria Middle School, originally from Quillan Province. After graduating from university, he was assigned a teaching post at the school, where he also married and started a family. But his parents and siblings were still in his hometown, so he’d managed to arrange a transfer back. His wife and children had already gone ahead, leaving him to sell the house.

The landlord’s asking price was eight hundred yuan. Once Patrick learned he was a teacher at Vessaria Middle School, he hadn’t planned on haggling. But the landlord had voluntarily dropped the price by one hundred yuan. Patrick figured it was probably because Adrian Hawthorne was a child.

"Professor Jacobs, my parents are here."

Patrick introduced his family. Felix Thorne vigorously wiped his hands on his clothes a few times before shaking the landlord’s hand. "Hello, Professor Jacobs."

"Hello. Let’s go take care of the transfer paperwork now."

Professor Jacobs was quite direct. He was in a hurry to get home and didn’t want any more delays. He had been trying to sell the house since summer vacation and had only just found a buyer; otherwise, he would have been home long ago.

It was still before the office’s closing time, so they hurried over for the cash-for-deed transaction. However, when it was time to sign the property deed, Patrick specifically told the clerk, "Put both my mom’s and dad’s names on it."

Typically, the clerk would only write the husband’s name—he was the head of the household, after all, and the wife usually wouldn’t object. Phoebe Huxley hadn’t even considered it. Hearing Patrick’s words, both Felix Thorne and Phoebe Huxley were stunned. Felix Thorne was a little displeased, and it showed on his face.

A slight smile touched Professor Jacobs’s face, and his gaze toward Patrick grew more appreciative. ’This kid will have a great future,’ he thought. ’It’s a shame I’m going back to my hometown; otherwise, I might have had the chance to teach him.’

"Mom’s more reliable. Dad, if you get bewitched by another vixen like Phoenix Golding, this house will go down the drain."

Patrick muttered this quietly, but just loud enough for Felix Thorne to hear. Felix’s face immediately darkened, and he raised his hand as if to slap him. But his hand stopped mid-air. He gave Professor Jacobs an embarrassed smile and shot a covert glare at Patrick. ’I’ll deal with this little brat when we get home! He can’t even spare his old man some face in public!’

Phoebe Huxley was instantly enlightened and nodded repeatedly. "Yes, yes! Sir, please write my name on it."

’Thank goodness Patrick is so thorough,’ she thought. ’I really do need to be on guard. He worked so hard to acquire this property for us; I can’t let it fall into the hands of some hussy. Phoenix Golding might be out of the picture, but who knows if a Phoenix Lowell or some other woman will pop up later? Men are nothing but trouble.’