Part 3 (2/2)
”What guy?”
”The one she has the date with?”
”No. Not yet. Why?” He was messing with her careful arguments on why she should keep this listing. And besides, what business was it of his if two people he didn't know had a date?
”Tell her he's probably a scammer.”
”What?”
”Nigeria is the scam capital of the world. And something about 'civil engineer' sounds fishy to me.”
”How can you be so judgmental? She's talked to him on the phone. I'm sure it's fine.”
”Maybe. You spend long enough in the news business, you get an instinct.” Between telling prospective buyers ghost stories and trying to kill her friend's happy buzz, she wasn't too sure about his supposed instincts. Apparently he didn't have much of an instinct for dodging bullets. ”Just tell her, whatever she does, not to send the guy money.”
”All right. Fine.” She s.h.i.+fted and glanced at her watch. ”Can we talk about us?”
He had the s.e.xiest way of looking at her. She'd known the man all of about an hour and every time he looked at her thoughts she had no business thinking flitted through her mind.
”Us?”
As their gazes connected, she thought maybe Julia had a point. It had been way too long since she had s.e.x if a s.h.a.ggy drifter who was trying to mess with her career could make her overheated with a mere glance. She crossed her legs. ”You know what I meant. The listing.”
He leaned back in his chair, savored another sip of coffee. Then he said, ”Okay. Here's what I propose. You can keep the listing. I'll be living here so you have to work around me. I don't want open houses. Appointment only. We'll see how it goes.”
She was so relieved not to find herself fired before she'd started that she nodded. ”Okay.” However, she wasn't a complete fool or a pushover. ”I have a condition of my own.” And she drilled him with her serious-business-woman look. ”No more stories about your grandmother dying in that bed. As I'm sure Mrs. Neeson taught you, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.”
4.
AFTER THE HOT REALTOR LEFT, Rob drained the rest of the coffee into his mug and began to wander through the house.
She was right, of course. It didn't make any sense for him to keep the place. It was too big, with maintenance issues always cropping up. It was a house meant for a family, and now that his grandmother was gone, he didn't have one anymore.
Maybe he hadn't been able to say goodbye formally at her funeral, but he could for d.a.m.n sure make certain that the next people who lived in this house were a family his grandmother would have approved of.
He suddenly realized that was what had brought him back to Seattle.
He needed to hand on the house to the right people. Then maybe he could let his memories go and get back to his regular life.
If he owed anything to Agnes Neeson's memory it was not to let weenies who were scared of their own shadows live in her place.
He didn't have much of an idea what he was going to do with himself for the next several weeks, apart from get his strength back, so he called Dr. Greene's office and wasn't remotely surprised to get an appointment that very afternoon.
HAILEY BARELY MADE the weekly office meeting at Dalbello and Company, sliding in as the office manager was in the midst of his weekly speech. Normally she worked from home, not interested in renting an overpriced desk. She dropped by to use the photocopy machine and to visit with her mentor and friend, Hal Wilson, who'd been in the business for thirty years.
She saw Hal standing near the water cooler and went over to him. ”Did I miss anything?” she whispered.
”Ted says listings are up overall in the city and the house prices are starting to creep up.”
”Good news.” There were about thirty Realtors in the open area where they held the weekly meetings. Rows of desks stretched out behind her all currently empty. Two high-end printers and photocopiers sat to the side underneath a line of windows. A big whiteboard dominated this end of the room.
Ted told a couple of jokes, gave them a weekly sales tip, and then moved on to the reason she had raced to get here.
”Let's look at the new listings.”
He boomed out the listings like an auctioneer. The standard mix of houses, condos, a couple of commercial properties. ”And Bellamy House. Listed by Hailey Fleming. Her biggest listing yet and the biggest listing for our office this week.” He turned to her with a big two-thumbs-up. ”Way to go, Hailey!” He started clapping and all the a.s.sembled Realtors joined in.
Sure it was cheesy, but the clapping and cheering worked to make her feel more confident.
Naturally she didn't bother sharing with a group of sharks, all of whom would love to list and sell Bellamy House, that her listing was hanging by a thread.
When the meeting was over, a stylish redhead walked over to Hailey and Hal. ”Congratulations again.” Her name was Diane and her congrats were as fake as her smile. She was a successful Realtor with a reputation for ruthlessness. ”When's the agents' open?”
She shook her head. ”The client's very clear. He doesn't want any opens. I've got photos on my website. Give me a call if you've got clients who might be interested. We'll arrange a private showing.”
”Will do.” Diane asked a couple of questions about the kitchen and made a few notes, then walked off when her cell phone buzzed.
When Diane was out of earshot, Hal said, ”I heard she tried to get that listing. She has a contact in the hospital. If a property owner dies, she hears about it before next of kin.”
”No!”
He shrugged. ”I wouldn't put it past her.”
Good thing the lawyer was a family friend. ”Hal, I've got a problem. I need some advice.”
”Okay.”
She told Hal about Rob and the tentative agreement they had that she could keep the listing as long as she didn't disturb him. ”I'm sure the MacDonalds would have made an offer if he hadn't scared them off with stories of his grandmother dying upstairs in the bedroom.”
Hal took his time answering her, finally, saying, ”This is a great opportunity for you. I don't want you to lose it.”
”Me neither.”
”Some clients don't even know what they want. Sounds like he's one. You're going to have to manage him.”
”Manage him? How?”
”Hailey, my dear. Use one of your greatest a.s.sets. Your charm.”
DR. GREENE'S OFFICE smelled the same as it had for the thirty years he'd been dragged here, Rob thought, as he sat leafing through an ancient golf magazine. And the decor hadn't changed since he was a kid either, he realized as he s.h.i.+fted on the cracked vinyl seat in the waiting room. He tossed the magazine aside. He didn't even like golf. He took out his phone and checked his email. Nothing interesting.
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