So we knew this farm was for sale. We knew the owners had died. We had no idea who was in charge of the estate or if there was a realtor involved. But that was not going to stop us. After driving the fifty miles to the farm every weekend and a very exhausting interrogation of just about every neighbor, law enforcement officer, postal worker, and grocery store clerk we managed to get the name of an elderly sister who lived in Florida - that's about two thousand miles from us.
So we wrote letters to this, did I mention she was elderly, very nice but confused lady. At first I am not sure she knew what we were talking about but eventually we managed to get through. Her letters were full of childhood memories of her and her brother, sad stories about how his wife died of pneumonia, happy times spent at the farm with them, and how terrible they never had children to whom they could leave this wonderful place.
So along about the fifth letter we finally managed to get her to give us the name of the realtor who was handling the sale for her. And after months, and months, of having doors slammed in our faces, people looking at us like we had lost our minds for even wanting to buy a place so isolated, and dealing long distance with an elderly, confused, but very nice lady in Florida we found out our long lost realtor, are you ready for this, lived two doors down the street from us.