Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 04 - Trash Out (16 page)

I still couldn’t forgive him for the sanctimonious way he handled the
apparently rouge directional
signs.
But I was here to make friends and sell the damn house.
I smiled and
tipped
my head.

Mrs. Christopher said
, “
i
t’s a lovely house, but
i
t needs to be brighter, there is too much wood.”

Mr. Christopher
said, “
i
t needs to be darker, there is too much light. You want intimacy in a house like this.”

“You’ll need new carpet or carpet credit
,
”
s
uggested the Prudential agent.

“Rip out the carpets and install
more
hardwood
,
”
recommended
three Century 21 agents.

“Tile,”
advised
two Re-Max agents.

I nodded as if I were taking in the information
and seriously considering it
.
But
I was
really
too busy straining to hear the passing conversation as agents swooped up and down the stairs.
I wouldn’t take many of the suggestions anyway.  My client wasn’t included to improve the place at this late date.

“Did you hear about the house on Heron
Court
?  They took both toilets and the water heater, ripped it from the garage wall.”
  An agent reached for a cookie while she continued to talk.

“Was there insurance?”
Another voice, I couldn’t see who, responded.

“Of course, but the bank would never finish out a garage, the walls are soaked, all the way through the sheet rock, thank God nothing
more
happened.”

“What would you do with a water heater?”  The other agent mused.  “
If
it’s not attached to a house?”

“I supposed it’s only partially belong
s
to the house, how much does something need to be attached before it’s considered part?”

“Maybe they’ll sell it?”

“Sell it on
eBay
?” 

“Craig’s list,” they agreed.

Times were difficult
. T
he
volume of agents had shrunk in proportion to our shrinking opportunities, loan requirements and paltry commission rates.
Offices were consolidating and people were staying away
from the profession
in droves
. Many former Realtor had moved to
banking, insurance, or house cleaning.
It was a wonder our
own
office was standing at all.  Rosemary and Katherine passed by the
Christophers
and nodded but did not engage the couple in conversation.

“Is this an Eichler?”
A short man
wearing
a Keller Williams
name tag
blinked as he surveyed the hardwood floors and built-in shelves
.

“No, those are single story and
are mostly found
in
Marin.” I explained, without going into it further. I
had written 
“
C
raftsman style home
”
on the MLS
site
, the man could
have
read
the post before he showed up
.  Well, maybe
that was too much to ask
.

I liked my Craftsman bungalow.  Did I like Victorian as much?  It was too late to turn back now. I think that’s a song
lyric
.

“This is a fabulous living room!”  Katherin
e bellowed as soon as she
caught my eye.
Katherine
was
dressed in her best
selling ensemble, a red suit with a short red jacket and full skirt. She even
wore high
heels to honor the grand occasion.

Inez, wearing an uncharacteris
tically
subdued beige suit stalked behind both Rosemary and Katherine
. Her
two lead agents
may dwarf
her in size, but not personality.  She waved to me, gave a cursory glance around the front room and determinedly headed to the kitchen so no one could say she was prompting, or even condoning her own agent’s behavior. 

Just when I thought I was safe, she did walk in.  Marcia Yates,
with
Coldwell Banker
,
at least
last I heard
. Marcia
changed
real estate offices as often as I change shoes. 

Marcia is
fond of pointing out that when it comes to a deal, she is tenacious as
a bulldog
.  She stands up during every MLS meeting just to list her clients and her listings, she never asks for help, she never gives it either.
She has an impressively inflated sense of her own skills that belied her tiny stature and rather
dis
proportional nose. You just can’t help
but be reminded
of the football scene from the Brady Bunch. 

“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,
” Katie
Patterson, Frank Howard Allen
,
whispered in my
e
ar
.
“Did you hear she’s switch
ed
to Green, Green and Green Realty?”

“What’s wrong with Coldwell Banker?”  I whispered back.

“They’ve all gone through
at least one
escrow with her.”  Katie grabbed two cookies, dropped five of her business cards into the vase
for the raffle
and hustled out.

“It’s a beautiful house, a
nd so well priced!”  Rosemary’s
purple caftan billowed around her.   She nodded to me and then to Katherine.  The two waltzed through the house making loud compliments in every room they entered
. We offer this
service for each
other
during
many of the
Broker’s Open
,
during
the
first
fifteen minutes
,
when you need compliments the most.

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia sneered at
Rosemary;
she glanced around
, a frown on her face.
I held my breath, but she made no comment, just slid by and dropped a card into my vase. 

The crowd thinned, most already heading
off to
view the next two open houses.

“I wish I had a client for you.” Rosemary said in more normal tones now that agents like Marcia, Marcia, Marcia
and the Christophers
had left the
premise
.  “I have someone looking for modern
,
but not
b
ungalow style.  I like this though.”

I shrugged
and tried not to look too smug in response to Rosemary’s compliment
. “Just keep it in mind
,
you know the drill.”

Rosemary pressed a box containing a plastic statue of Joseph, patron saint of lost causes, for me to bury upside down in the back yard.  I forgot about that.  I would bur
y this one here and get another
to bury in the front yard of Penny’s house in Claim Jump.  We needed all the help we could get.

I shooed
out
the last of the agents
who were now just clogging up the foyer and chatting about the agents who just left
. I quickly
shuffled through the business cards left specifically for the wine prize
.
  I chose
three people
who did not comment on what I could do with my floors or my books
and called
to tell
them they won the random drawing.

I drew in a breath.
Inez hadn’t mentioned
the n
ational
office for New Century Realty
for weeks.  Perhaps I was back in their good graces. 
I had refused
additional
“help” in the form of
more
training
,
I had turned down the offer to take all the foreclosures and short sales
.  The escrows for both Lucky Master’s down town office and the new home sale to Scott Lewis
(both in Claim Jump)
saved my ass just in time
and created some
breathing room.  The sale of this house and Penny’s would complete the picture. Patricia
told me s
he
heard
the national office was losing interest in monitoring individual sales and were investing in
analytics
instead.

I
released
my
helpful
red arrow sign
from my trunk
and
drove
it back
down to the bottom of my street and posted it back w
here it belonged.  M
y
phone buzzed and I defied all the
new laws
and answered as I drove
the short way
back into my garage.  I had moved out much of the
garage
contents to Claim Jump, but noticed a fe
w boxes ready for the next trip, as if they breed in there.

“They are not happy with this accident
,”
Carrie reported.

“The Broker
’
s Open went just fine thank you
,
” I said testily.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but I spen
t
last night
at a family dinner and all they could discuss was the damn shower,
then
the damn wedding
, then back to the damn shower again
. At one point Kathleen suggested they call the whole thing off because of either the accident or because the pastry chef they want for the wedding cake won’t return their calls. Can you imagine!  What am I going to do with them?”

“Move
. It
’s working for me.”

“Patrick can’t leave the business
,
”
s
he said morosely.

“You were in a great mood yesterday
,
” I pointed out.

My call waiting buzzed, but I ignored it. The odds were good it
was one of the Furies with a
cake related question.

I pushed the boxes close
r
to the car and walked back through the kitchen.  I grabbed a cookie just as the call waiting chirped again.

“I mean
,
are
they
determined
to ruin my life?”  Her
voice ratcheted up
an octave.

“Hold that thought.
I have to check this.”
It was Sarah
Miller;
I was willing to take this one.

“Hi Allison?  This is Sarah Miller.
 
You know how you lectured me on how I needed my own income and stuff and I shouldn’t depend on Scott like I depended on my grandparents?”

“Yes.”  Although in reality, the dividends from Sarah’s investments would keep her in shoes and food for the rest of her life. Not expensive shoes, but still, she wasn’t as destitute as
all of us in Claim Jump
assumed
when Sarah was the hot topic
and unofficially designated Brotherhood charity
last spring.

“Well, the tenants set fire to the kitchen.”

I g
e
t whiplash every time I talked to the girl.
 
I heard Carrie click off.  I’d call her back.
I rubbed my eyes. Crap
,
a
nother good intention up in flames. I was distressingly good at that.

“So you want to sell?”
  I concluded.

“Tom Marten offered to evict the
m
.”

“I’m sure he did.” Tom Marten was the handsome and
surprisingly
effective police chief for Claim Jump, he
,
l
ike the rest
of the community, considered Sarah
his
own special project,
even after she hooked up with newcomer Scott Lewis.

“So you want to list the house after all.”

“I know I should have an income stream and all that. Suzanne Chatterhill told me all the same things you did, but
this landlord stuff is
just a pain in the ass
,
if you ask me.”

“It can be that.”

“Can you come up and see the house?”

“Of course.” I said automatically.
  I had seen the
house;
I still have the photos I took in early spring when she first thought she’d sell.  Then I convinced her to rent.  And now we were selling. I blame myself.

I walked to my own front door to check on the lock box dangling on the door handle
.
I’d lock up everything and drive up.

“I’ll be there tomorrow
,
” I promised.

“Meet me at the Grove Street house.”

I click off and hit Carrie’s cell phone.
 
“I
need to
go back up to Claim Jump.”

“Again?
” Her voice hadn’t lost the edge during our four
-
minute separation.  “
You were just there.
”

“All my business is up there
,
” I
pointed out
defensively.
  And Mark did not know where Claim Jump was located. That was a plus as well. But I didn’t tell Carrie
about Mark, she had enough on her plate
.

She took a breath.
“
Okay, what
do you have left to do?”
  She meant the shower, not selling my house, not my own pending nuptials, not the winery.  I was working on forgiving her even as I listed my accomplishments.

“Not much, the caterer has just now been confirmed.  The Furies aren’t completely certain about the plates and napkins, apparently Emily’s Royal Doulton is not quite fancy enough. They are bringing in four generations of silver for the over 100 guests and we still don’t have a cake because they keep changing their minds on the flavor
,
decorations
and the baker
.  Other than that, we are all set, don’t worry about a thing.”  

“
You
’ll b
e fine, you are
steady and sensible.  Do you think Cassandra can hold up under their onslaught?”

Great, that
’s
what I want in my obit
:
she was steady and sensible.  Perhaps I should take up some dangerous hobby.  Oh, right,
my hobby is discovering dead bodies in unlikely
places;
maybe I should take up something safer, like
splunking
.
“I’m sure she can.  I mean, except for
Fred
’s accident, the opening went well, and Chr
is Conner gave Prophecy Estates
great coverage in the paper, editorial is so much better than straight ads.
”
 
Chris Conner also
mentioned that Trisha Gault was injured, but declined to name where, which I thought was very interesting.

“Sometimes you just kill me.”

“My job as Matron of
H
onor is to make sure you stay alive and in one piece.” I lectured,
then
more gently
added,
“I’ll be back by Friday
.
Joan is coming up and
Sarah wants to sell the house again.  It
should be
over
pretty quickly, except for the shouting.  Why don’t you spend the day with Patrick?”

“He’s working, he distracted, he’s planning the honeymoon, and surprising me
,
”
she added before I could ask.

“Ben and I could go on a honeymoon
,
” I mused.  “I wonder if there is a country
politically
stable
enough
to host
me
?
I wouldn’t want to start an international incident.”

“I wouldn’t know
,
” Carrie’s voice was dispirited.

“I thought you were taking a round the world trip on a yacht or something.”

“No, we just said that to freak out my parents and make them think they’d have to foot that bill.  No, we are not traveling around the world.”

Her parents were a whole project last spring, like everything and anything in Carrie’s life
at this moment.  Her parents also almost
screwed up her relationship with Patrick.
It was Patrick who solved the problem and now Carrie has embraced
one of the unsung
benefits of voice mail: the delete key.  

“How are they taking the exile?”

“
Patrick and I a
re having brunch with them this
next
Sunday. I’m hoping the expensive meal and wine will be enough for them. It’s not like they wish me well or anything. Patrick
told me last night, he’s hiring
a security guard, just in case.”

“Isn’t that a bit extreme
?
”

Her silence was my answer. For Carrie, no measure would be extreme
enough;
she is making up for years of childhood abuse. 

“True
,
” I mused.  “I wonder if my mother would want to plan my wedding?”

“Did she say?”

“No, she
only
wept with gratitude
when I announced the engagement
and my sister
s-
in
-
law clamored to be in the wedding
.
Like they want to wear a hideous dress and parade up and down in front of a big crowd
of friends and family
.
”

“Hey, it’s not that bad
,
”
Carrie
protested.

“I wonder if we’ll just honeymoon in Claim Jump. You know with the cost of the house and stuff.”  I changed the subject.

“Why don’t you pay for the honeymoon with the money from your house?”

“That way I’d control something and I’d get to choose the location.”  I said out loud.

“And you think
it’s
going to be
that
easy
,
”
she countered
arch
ly
.

“No, but more fun. Thanks for coming by yesterday. You and Joan were my only visitors”. 

“Drop the price.”

“Stop quoting me to me.”