A few weeks before this listing went live, we recommended the sellers pay for a pre-listing inspection. It found two problems: a roof at the end of its life, and mold in the attic. Replacing the roof would run roughly $25,000. The mold was a separate concern, but the most cost-effective path to resolving it ran through the same roof work.
That put a real decision in front of the sellers: spend the money up front, or disclose both issues and price the home to account for them.
The conventional move is to disclose and discount. We recommended against it, for two reasons rooted in how buyers actually behave. Big-ticket defects like a failing roof invite buyers to negotiate the price down further than the repair actually costs. And mold spooks buyers out of all proportion to what remediation runs — I've watched a few thousand dollars of attic mold end a seven-figure deal. So instead of discounting for the problem, we removed it: replaced the roof, resolved the mold in the same work, and listed about $20,000 higher than originally planned, leaning into the turnkey condition.
I was honest with the sellers about the math: there is probably not a dollar-for-dollar return on a roof. On paper, we spent roughly $25,000 and recovered about $20,000 of it in the higher price. That gap was the price of two things that don't show up on a spreadsheet — a much lower chance of the deal collapsing at inspection, and fewer days on market.
We went live, held two open houses, and had a full-price offer in hand by the end of the first weekend.
That offer was the second judgment call. It was clean, with one exception: the buyer's funds were coming from a seven-figure legal settlement, held by the county clerk pending final distribution. The proof of funds was an attorney letter about six weeks old, stating vaguely that the money would reach the buyer within about six weeks. We were now at the end of that window, with no case number, no amount, no committed date — and the offer was written so that actual proof of funds wasn't due until five days before closing. If the money never materialized, the sellers wouldn't find out until the finish line, after weeks off the market.
The sellers were thrilled and ready to sign. This is exactly the moment where writing it up and getting it signed closes a deal — and quietly exposes the client to a risk they can't see.
We did two things in parallel. First, we drafted a protective addendum requiring the buyer, within three days of mutual acceptance, to deliver a certification from their settlement attorney: the court and cause number, that the settlement was final and not subject to appeal, that the net proceeds were sufficient to cover the purchase, and the funds' current status and anticipated disbursement date — with a termination right if it didn't arrive. Asking the attorney to certify sufficiency rather than the exact amount mattered: settlement agreements are almost always confidential, and this removed any legitimate basis to refuse. Second, we worked with the buyer's agent to run down real corroboration — which produced a days-old message from the buyer's attorney confirming where the funds sat and the disbursement timeline, plus a statement showing the buyer had already received an initial partial distribution.
We still recommended signing the addendum; our job is to be the most cautious person in the room. But with the corroboration in hand, the sellers chose to accept the offer as written rather than risk a counter on an otherwise-perfect deal. That was the right call for them — and it was only a responsible call because the digging had been done. We didn't force the safe move. We did the work that let them overrule our recommendation with their eyes open.
Under contract, full price, before the first weekend was out. The settlement funds arrived on time, and the sale closed on schedule.
