“I’ll tell you later,” she promised. “Maybe I’ll have good news.”

The county courthouse was intimidating, its marble halls filled with people who looked like they belonged there—professional property developers and house flippers with tailored suits and confident expressions. Maya clutched her purse tighter, feeling completely out of place in her secondhand clothes.

The auction room was set up with rows of chairs facing a podium. Maya took a seat in the back, trying to be invisible. She watched carefully as the first properties were auctioned, learning the process. The auctioneer would announce the property, bidding would start, and within minutes it would be sold to the highest bidder. Most properties went for much higher than their starting bids.

Maya’s hope began to fade. Even if the farmhouse started at $750, it would probably end up selling for thousands more.

Finally, the auctioneer announced: