Adventures of RealtorMan

Peter hurried back to the unit, going straight to the cupboard where he’d last seen the big beach towels from their trip. They weren’t there. Hans must have moved them, go figure. Exasperation growing, he searched in the next most likely place and then in the next. He knew he hadn’t taken them. Glancing in at the bathroom door, he saw them hanging, dry but apparently used, from the shower bar.

‘Rusty will never know – not in his condition.’ he thought. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to fluff them up a bit and deliver them toasty warm – he loved a cozy towel. He stuffed them into the dryer and turned the dial. Five minutes should do the trick.

Five delicious minutes to snoop around and find out where Hans had moved things, or if there was anything new. No signs of a new occupant anyway, that was something. Hans was beginning to look good to him again. Pleasantly engaged, he was startled by the dryer buzzer. The towels were hot and smelled of Hans. He lingered over them, then folded them into a large kitchen bag and headed once more for the stairs.

“Here we are Rusty, all lovely and warm.” he was trilling as he waltzed through the pool door. Peter shrieked. Rusty was floating face down in the pool, apparently drowned, now far past the help of any towel to warm him. Why on earth hadn’t Rusty waited for him to come back?  How stupid could he be to get in the water alone when he couldn’t swim? It was all Rusty’s  fault, nothing at all to do with him. He hadn’t even been there when it happened. This whole hopeless affair was now just that – beyond even hope. Vexed, Peter petulantly reached for the remote and switched to his favorite cooking channel. They were making soup. As an afterthought, he wiped the TV cart handles and the remote. (more…)

“Daddy,” whispered Gertie, “you awake?”. Her father’s reply, from the easy chair where he had nodded off, was a snore. She smiled;  if he does wake up while I’m gone, I’m sure he’ll figure it out, and turned away.

She often went down for a swim at night when she stayed at the penthouse. The pool was usually empty after suppertime, she’d discovered. To make the workout better, she took the stairs down, and after her swim, then up, as far and as fast as her legs could stand it, where she hopped the elevator the rest of the way. She was trying to add another floor of steps each time and doing fairly well with it, last time making it up to the 11th.

She had a routine of rinsing out her stuff when she got back and packing the swim bag up again the following morning. It would be there ready for her each night – so no excuses. She changed into her sweats and let herself quietly out of the unit, guessing he would still be in the recliner when she returned, though often he pretended he’d never been asleep. It was easy enough going down. She heard a bam, the sound of a closing door echoing through the stairwell, a bit disconcerting. Not at all like her dorm, with kids everywhere. Here she had never actually met anyone else on the stairs. There must be someone else using them besides me, she reasoned. This building was too new for ghosts.

As she drifted slowly down the stairs, she looked forward to the slow repetition of laps and gliding push-offs lulling her into her own quiet space. Time to think; not even think, really, just be. She wondered if this was what meditation was like. Her room-mate Jody meditated. They must compare notes sometimes: soon, before they graduated. One of the things she reflected on a lot these days was what she wanted to do next. So far, life had been pretty much laid out for her. Knowing that she didn’t have to plan a career, or even get a job for that matter, didn’t stop her from dwelling on it, likely because everyone around her at school was fixating on it right now. Perhaps she was just going along with the tide.

She had never experienced real ambition, not like some of her friends. Her family was pushing for her to join the family firm, take on a cause and run with it.  The family had recently been featured in one of the local glossy magazines. Easily the most photogenic member of her clan, she’d been pictured both looking out at the lake from the penthouse, as well as on horseback and walking her dogs at Asphodel Meadows. It made her feel like pictures she’d seen of the Queen of England, trailing corgis. She’d grown up around animals, dogs especially, but had only thought of animals as familiar pets, up til now. Lately she’d been reading quite a bit about breed groups, dog rescue organizations, and animal rights.

At last descending to the pool level floor, she pushed open the door to the pool and was on the deck before she stopped, startled by what she was seeing. Not only was there a TV on and blaring next to the pool but she was not alone this time. A man she had never seen before was standing on the edge of the deck, whizzing into the water. “Just warming up the water for you.” he slurred. She stood frozen to the spot, revulsion rising as she fought back fear, her swim bag dangling at her feet. (more…)

The record rains were finally subsiding but the dark, empty clouds lingered so that evening settled in early. A soggy dusk was gathering as Peter let Rusty into the unit. So far, so good. He’d slipped into his old parking spot and up the two floors in the elevator unobserved, as far as he could tell. All this subterfuge was highly exhilarating to him but Rusty was already looking apprehensive.

“So, here we are.” Peter began, almost giggling with delight at the ease with which this was unfolding. “What do you think of it so far?”

Rusty was positively scowling now, and walked over to the windows. “Is this only as far up as you lived?” he said, a little derisively, Peter thought. He hoped Rusty wouldn’t turn out to be the sarcastic type. They were so hard to understand.

“Mmm, it is a small unit but it’s got a really nice place to work out.”

“I didn’t come here to work out, did I?” Rusty hissed at him. Peter was scrambling to fathom what Rusty was here for.

“How about drinks?” Peter offered, retreating into the kitchen, hoping to loosen up his guest a bit. “There’s usually wine, brandy, or beer around. Let me check.” Rusty followed him, and as Peter swung open the  refrigerator door, Rusty grabbed a couple of cans of beer from the shelf.

“This’ll do.” he muttered. Peter was pretty sure it was still left over from their last party. As he rarely ever drank it, Hans would probably never even notice the missing beer.

“I’ll have some brandy. There are some gorgeous snifters around here someplace. Please, go put your feet up. Relax.” The snifters were there and right beside them, the empty space where the flutes used to be. It was just too tempting Peter thought, wondering if he could get away with more light-fingered fun this trip. ‘First things first.’ he recalled. ‘Rusty is first, this trip.’

“So, tell me Rusty, what do you want to do here…first?” Peter said suggestively, as he sank into the couch opposite Rusty.

“How far can you get upstairs and see out over the lake?” ‘Oooh, how romantic!’ Peter thought.

“Well, there’s the terrace out back overlooking the lake. There’s a lovely view from there.”

“Nah, I mean way upstairs.”

“Well, there are penthouses, but that’s all private,” he began, “so we can’t go up there. But there is a solarium room with super big windows – it’s just one floor down from that.”

“No rooftop?” pursued Rusty, peevishly adding, “How about more beer then?”  Peter was still puzzled about all this interest in the roof but decided to play along as he fetched more beer from the kitchen. Maybe Rusty had a thing about a roof and Peter was willing to learn. (more…)

“At the top of the hour, an update on the heavy rain today and the flooding problems around town. Stay tuned. We’ll be right back after a word from our sponsor.”

The radio jingle was sung to the unlikely tune of  “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” Perhaps, thought Guy, the sponsor was attempting to add some gravitas to the firm’s image. If so, the words of the jingle belied that hope.

“We’re Horton, Hearst & Hough
Here to take care of you
Whenever you sue.
We’re big guys in gray suits
Who’ll take on your lawsuits
We’re Horton Hearst and Hough
Horton Hearst and Hough.”

As the ad patter continued, the show host Aimee Elise switched off her mike and said to Guy, “OK, in this next segment I’m going to ask some tougher questions. Without asking you to risk saying too much for your own good, I expect some serious answers – provocative answers. That’s why I asked you on. On this show we want to stimulate our listeners, not put them to sleep. Right?”

Privately hoping that the upcoming segment would not thereby lead directly into the offices of Horton Hearst and Hough to seek the refuge of their expertise, Guy nodded. He sat waiting and wondering how many guests of the program had gone down that slippery slope already.

“And in keeping with the apparent theme of the day – lots and lots of water, rain or otherwise – we’re back with our guest Guy Karon, ferryman extraordinaire, and owner of The Shorter Way Home, Lake Michigan’s premiere back and forth Wisconsin to Michigan service. Tell us Guy, what took you into the business?”

“Our family has always been in the ferrying business. Back in Greece where I was born, there are plenty of islands to go back and forth between, though not so many lakes and rivers with ferries, as there are on the Wisconsin mainland. It seemed natural to stick to it when our family immigrated to the States. Sounds from the weather today as though some of your listeners will be needing a ferry, or at least a raft.”

“The flooding is quite serious in some areas. Once again listeners, stay tuned for updates.  And so Guy, the big lake was no challenge for your family?”

“Great Big Sea to Great Big Lake?” he laughed, “Of course the challenges are different. Let me put it this way, our navigation system is a lot different than a rowboat type you might use to cross a stream. We handle a lot of passengers, their vehicles and cargo on each trip.”

“And will there be enough density in a city of our size to support your business:  dare I say it – over the long haul?” (more…)

Sebastian Cabot took a deep breath and swung open the door to his parents’ unit. He’d been there before of course, more often than his brother Matthew, who was often away on buying trips for the business. But knowing that their mother and father would never come through the door again choked him up. He’d thought that he was all over the tears but he found them coming at him out of the blue and over the least likely things. At other times, he seemed too sad to cry any more. Wondering how long his grief would last, he set down his suitcase and listened to the silence. No greetings, no hugs. In that moment he knew he could never live there. Matthew had suggested that they keep the condo; it would be a place for Sebastian to live and a place for Matthew to stay when he came to town. But it would have to be another place, as far as he was concerned.

I’d never get over this feeling, thought Sebastian. He decided to talk to Matthew about it again, first chance he had.  Maybe Matthew would feel the same way too when he got here. They were in daily contact since the plane crash that had wiped out their parents lives, their family life. Now they had to decide so many personal and business matters.

What was that old quote? He searched his memory and came up with part of it. It went something like, ‘All happy families are the same but unhappy ones are different.’ That wasn’t quite right; he would have to look it up. In the meantime, he would just grit his teeth and hope for no ghosts while he was staying here. He believed in ghosts even though he had never seen one.

The next day, as he passed through the lobby on his way to Cathay Imports, a woman rose from her chair, extending her hand, and spoke to him, “Hello, you must be one of the Cabot boys. My name is Ivy James. I knew your parents—my unit is on the same floor and we often visited back and forth—and I want to extend my sincerest condolences. Such a terrible thing to have happened.”

“Thank you, Mrs. James. I’m Sebastian. I’m here to settle up some of their affairs, staying in their unit. My brother Matthew is still in the Orient.”

“Perhaps then, if it’s convenient for you, you could come over to supper with me one evening and we could talk.”

“That’s very kind of you. It might be some comfort to talk with someone here who knew them well. They said they had made some friends here but the names didn’t really register, as I’d never met any of them myself. My brother and I are great travelers, you see.”

“A family trait?”

“Too true.”

And a few nights later, Sebastian came for supper, bearing a set of four wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot. “Please accept the glasses as a memento of my folks,” he offered.

“Many thanks, Sebastian. These are lovely.” she smiled appreciatively. “We’ll use two of them with supper, shall we? And if you would open the wine?” (more…)

The He-Shell and the She-Shell were unusually quiet. R.M. had grown accustomed to their many questions, peppered liberally through their previous discussions. They were looking out the windows at his single party listing in the Prospect. He had often observed that people at property showings tended to spend a lot of time looking out the windows when of course they should be mostly looking at the unit, especially on a second visit.

Shel turned towards him and said, “Guess I really want something facing the other way.”

R.M. nodded and waited. Shel continued. “Given our work schedules, we are more likely to have a little time at home in the morning than in the evening. If it’s mostly late when we get home, we don’t care about the light outside, or the view. But it would be nice to have some morning sunshine.”

“Let’s go back up to the solarium and take a look then.” suggested R.M. The solarium offered views in several directions, including on the lake side of the building. “Of course, these lake views will cost you relatively more, you understand, on any floor. We’ll go back out on the terrace as well, before we leave.” He joked, “You know, if you lived on the Michigan side of the lake, your morning sun would be facing away from the lake.”

Walking into the solarium and looking east, Shel enthused, “Yes, this is definitely more like it! Can you show us any units on this side?”

“None listed right now but that will likely change. Now that you’ve seen a few units and developments, let me ask you something. It’s an old saw in the sales business called a ‘trial close’. It’s supposed to be a way of testing to see if someone will buy something, and of course I can see that you are not ready as yet. But I’ve found that it is useful and I’ll tell you why. But first let me ask the question, OK? It goes like this, ‘If you had to buy a unit today, which one would you choose?’  Now when I ask this, it’s not to make you feel pressured to make up your mind but because, especially in the case of couples, it’s good to find out where they agree and disagree. As they each think and decide what matters and what doesn’t, I ask them to keep me in the loop so I can show them what they really want. If they don’t do that… ” (more…)

Mrs. James, in her now accustomed spot in the lobby, was crocheting a black and gray beanie, popular colors for snowboarders. She often longed for something a little more colorful. Maybe the next order, she chuckled, ruefully, would be a white one, to break up the monotony. Looking up, she saw R.M. at the door, and went over to let him in. Gervase, running a quick errand upstairs, had told her he was coming.

“Afternoon, Mrs. James,” R.M. smiled, “and thank you. Are you the new Gervase?”

“He’s just gone upstairs. Would you come and sit with me while you are waiting?” she invited, indicating her chair. “I’m just here working on a hat for The Society.”

“I’m actually here waiting to meet a buyer, so yes I will join you.” he replied, taking a seat next to hers. “I have an appointment for a second showing on a unit upstairs – my single party.”

“Unfortunately, we may have another listing in here very soon but not one we want. Have you heard the dreadful news about the Cabots?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” he replied.

“Well, of course, we’ve only just heard ourselves. Our residents, John and Cathy Cabot, who own the Cathay Imports shop, went on a routine buying trip to the Orient and apparently they were on the plane that crashed there yesterday. All passengers are reported dead.”

“I did hear about the crash. And they were both passengers, you say?”

“So I understand. Gervase tells me that their son Sebastian will be here soon to handle their affairs. Their other son Matthew is also traveling in the east. He’s in the business too.” She paused. “It’s so awful. Such nice people. And such good neighbors to me.  That’s where Gervase is at the moment, up taking care of their two cats.” Just then Gervase emerged from the elevator.

“Bon jour Gervase.” R.M. began, then stopped and said, “Well perhaps not so good. Mrs. James has just been telling me the news.”

“Very sobering news, yes. You don’t realize what a community we have here until something like this happens. Like losing family…why is it always the good ones, eh?” Then changing the subject he said, “I’ve been wanting to tell you that a man claiming to be a realtor tried to get in the building to pre-view a listing. I said there were no listings for him to see.”

“Odd.” replied R.M. “Any name?’ (more…)

Poppy and Pansy were each lugging a shopping bag full of picture books the few blocks from the bus stop to the library. It was late Saturday morning, their usual time for this jaunt.

“Do you think we might be able to make our own tote bags soon Mrs. James?” Pansy asked her. “These ones keep ripping.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. As you have already made a bag, a bean bag, I suppose you could make a larger one and add some handles. We can look at some pattern books while we are here – see if there are any you’d like to try.” Pleased that they still enjoyed the wonderful art work in so many of the books in the childrens’ room, she was hoping to interest them in browsing in other sections of the library as well.

She’d borrowed many books that she hadn’t looked at in years herself, just for the sake of introducing them to the girls. Occasionally, she read aloud from one of them. One of these was an anthology of poetry including Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall.” Uncanny how apropos of their collective situation vis-a-vis the proposed building some of those lines were, she mused, reciting them to herself. She must remember to share them with the committee.

“Before I built a wall I’d like to know

What I was walling in or walling out

And to whom I was like to give offense.”

Along the avenue from the POP’s, Morrie Mangold surveyed the just completed sales center for The Alchemy. The caterers were setting up dishes and beverages for tonight’s Grand Opening and the food would be arriving any minute now. The sales material was piled on a table in the corner, away from the refreshment tables. There were more chairs than he expected would be occupied, so he directed that some be removed. He preferred that the room appear full. Invitations had been sent to a lot of people, including realtors and civic leaders, and he was hoping that some of these pro-development invitees would turn up too, not just the mob from next door. If the city council meetings and war of letters in the press so far were any indication, this mob was likely going to materialize. (more…)

“Mrs. James?” said Pansy.

“Hmm?” was the absent-minded replied. They were all sitting at the dining table, knitting. The girls were making simple squares for bean-bags, which they would stuff with dried beans, then use for playing catch. A game for two.

“Next, can we make something to play with Mullins?”

“I could teach you how to crochet a simple chain. That would give you a string for him to chase. He likes that, as we well know.”

“Especially underneath doors.” agreed Pansy. “If you hide on one side of the door and push the string under to the other side of the door, then he really chases it!”

“Do you know how many cats there are in our building?” wondered Poppy.

“We don’t keep track of them, the same as we do the residents, so I’m not sure.  Mullins, Oblio, and Sticks, you already know. The Cabots have two – Bona and Vista. Gervase might know a few more. I’m guessing there may be others.”

“Maybe we should put a string under every front door and wait and see if there’s a cat there…” suggested Pansy.

And what about dogs?” continued Poppy.

“Once again, no list. There’s Rosie, and Pocano…”

“Wait, did you just say Pinocchio?” queried Poppy.

“No, not Pinocchio.” Mrs. James had been reading that story to the girls. “Pocano is a bloodhound type dog, I believe….” She was interrupted by a knock at the door, then a voice quietly stating, “It’s Earnest, Mrs James.”

“Ah, Mr. Arbuthnot. Go open the door, would you please Lee?”

“Hello, everyone”  he addressed the group. “All busy, I see.”

“Oh, Mr. Arbuthnot, Mrs. James said you know a lot of games. For kids I mean, not cats.” ventured Poppy. “We’re going to make some strings for cat toys but we want you to tell us some others we can play ourselves. Please.” she remembered to add. (more…)