The front door flew open, “Excuse me! What are you doing? Uh; no! We didn't ask for any Realtors to sell our home.”
Confused, Craig looked behind for some help from the boss.
Mr. Swieley was already behind him, giving official introductions. “Jack Swieley; how are you this morning? My office said you set up an appointment to list your house for sale with us?”
“No we didn't! Get your sign out of here. We don't need any agents!” By now, the homeowner was irate.
Mr. Swieley bent over and put his cigar out on the front lawn. “Now there must be some kind of mistake. I have an order here from my office to list your house for sale.”
The homeowner's irate demeanor escalated to near outrage, “Look, I don't know what this is all about, but we are not looking to hire agents right now!”
It was Mr. Swieley's cue to take over and reassure the homeowner he meant no harm. He gently put his hand on the seller's shoulder in some kind of calming effort that appeared to work. “Now, now; I realize this is a big mistake and I didn't mean to pull a fast one on you. You certainly didn't call us out here, today. We'll get to the bottom of this. Let's go inside; I'll contact my office and find out what the mix-up is.”
At this point, it might be worth commenting on a strange effect that Mr. Swieley had on people. Perhaps it had something to do with his size and age. A tall man and easily 400 pounds, one might wonder if this is what contributed to his ease of manipulating people. If you or I motioned someone to let us in the house, we would be ordered to leave and possibly threatened. But for some reason, people (such as the homeowners of that morning) allowed Mr. Swieley into their homes, even though they were outraged that he had a bogus order to market their property.
They all stood in the kitchen; Mr. & Mrs. perturbed Sellers, top-producing Jack Swieley and his new assistant who worked his first day on the job. Mr. Swieley proceeded to speak to his office while everyone else listened in silence. “Dora, we have some kind of mix-up here today. I'm at the house on 422 Crescent Drive and they say they never called us out… Well I don't know; I can only go according to what they say… Alright, let me know.”
Mr. Swieley put the phone down for a moment and whispered, “They're going to get to the bottom of this.” Then he attempted some small talk. “So how long have you folks been for sale?”
The seller loosened up some. “About 2 months, now. Does your office have any buyers?”
Mr. Swieley's eyes opened up as if surprised they would ask. “Well sure we have buyers!” Then he looked at his new assistant and motioned with hands while whispering, “Go preview the home with the seller and take some notes.”
Touring the home with Mr. Seller, the voice of Mr. Swieley could be heard in the background, arguing with the office on the phone. And at the most adjacent corner of the house with Mr. Swieley furthest away, Craig was asked in confidence, “Is that his ploy to get in the door and offer sales pitches?”
Craig hadn't thought about this. But it suddenly became a nagging suspicion. Was this the top producer's technique? But being the loyal employee he was, Craig simply answered, “No, Mr. Swieley doesn't do business that way. He's actually a very, professional agent and has been in the business for over 30 years!”
By the end of the tour, Mr. Swieley was ending his telephone call with the office. He removed the extinguished cigar from his mouth, “Folks, my office wants to apologize for this mix-up today. You have a lovely home and I know my assistant has done a preview in case we get a buyer.” And then he went right for the kill! “In a motion of apology for the terrible mix-up, the office is extending a full marketing package to include advertising, open houses and network Realtor marketing for an unbelievably, low commission rate.”
For such a great deal, made possible by an inconvenience, how could the sellers have gone wrong? After a couple minutes of guided decision making (led by Jack Swieley) the sellers entered an exclusive agreement for his office to market their home.
On the ride back to the office, Mr. Swieley puffed his cigar with a big smile on his face. “You see that? See how I turned tragedy into triumph in there. Now that's what I'm talking about.”
Chapter 24
It was soon learned that erroneously placing Jack Swieley Realty signs in the front lawns of homes that were For-Sale-By-Owner was no accident. It was part of Mr. Swieley's technique. In fact, it was no longer necessary to instruct Craig of the sign's replacement. He simply exited the old Cadillac (Mr. Swieley driving), obtained a company sign and went to work. And Craig was sure to bring a notebook for purposes of jotting down home details inside the residence while the boss straightened out the mess.
But not every attempt to win exclusive rights of marketing a For-Sale-By-Owner was successful. After some time, Jack Swieley's “comedy of errors technique” was experiencing a losing streak. Mr. Swieley was exhibiting signs of worry while Craig grew increasingly concerned.
“We better start building up some inventory or I'm not going to be able to keep you as my assistant.” Although spoken as joke, it was a serious consideration. Mr. Swieley mentioned this around 11:00am, his next appointment not until 12:30 in the afternoon. With an hour and a half to kill, perhaps the broker could have drowned his anxieties at the all-you-can-eat luncheon buffet, held daily at Mapleview's Country Diner. “It'll be my treat. But you better start gettin' us some inventory or we won't be in business long.” Again the boss was joking; but in a way, kind of serious.
The huge beastly-of-a-man exited the old Cadillac as the shocks raised the car off the ground from a relief of overbearing weight. Onlookers immediately took notice of the enormous stomach with blood-pumped face that huffed towards the building, eyes intently focused on the door. The Mapleview Country Diner should have locked its doors! Jack Swieley was in the mood for some serious feeding!
How was it possible for one man to load such a phenomenal amount of food in his body? Being that it was the all-you-can-eat luncheon buffet, he continuously stacked up 2 plates… 3 plates… 4 plates… even 5 plates of food; each one being a mixtures of heavy meats, pastas with rich sauce and vegetables such as sweetened yams or sauerkraut soaked in bacon grease.
By 12:15, the Mapleview Country Diner had experienced a disaster of unimaginable totality. Mr. Swieley simply pushed the table away, nearly crushing the bewildered assistant and announced that it was time for the appointment.
Craig was accustomed to standing in kitchens with a pairs of irate homeowners while his boss spoke to the company on the phone. But that day was different from the others. Suddenly, Mr. Swieley produced the most urgent look while whispering to the sellers. “Hey, can I use your bathroom? I just had the all-you-can-eat buffet over at the Mapleview Country Diner”
The seller was not so hospitable. “I don't think so, buddy! You better wrap up the call and head out of here!”
He whispered, “Okay, sorry for asking. I'll be out of here in a minute… Yeah Dora (grunt) they say (grunt)…” Mr. Swieley breathed heavily with an ill and pale face, beads of sweat dripped down. Then he flatulated which appeared most painful and shouted to the seller, “In the name of all that is holy, you gotta let me use your bathroom!”
Slapping his forehead in annoyance and disbelief, Mr. Seller was reluctant. “Alright, hurry up! I can't believe this!”
A sound mightier than a sudden, broken dam that could have never held back the Niagara Falls was released. It was a gush followed by belts of firecrackers that only announced another breaking dam. How one man could hold that much matter in his bowels was equally amazing as the damage done back at the Mapleview Country Diner.
Then he shouted at his secretary, Dora, that he was using the bathroom and would call back momentarily. 10 minutes passed as more firecrackers ripped and built-up dams collapsed. The toilet was flushed numerous times; moans and whimpers could be heard from under the door crack.
In such an uncomfortable situation, Craig finally spoke up. “So, how long have you folks been for sale? Wou
ld you let me preview your home in case I have a buyer?” He toured the residence with Mr. & Mrs. Seller for about 15 minutes, all the while discussing the company's success and the proven marketing strategy. Cries and flatulence from the far corner of the house cheered the assistant on as he laid the final touches on a presentation well done.
Craig returned to the bathroom door and knocked. “Mr. Swieley; you almost done in there?”
“I'll be out in a minute. I'm done. So sorry!” And then he flushed which sounded to go terribly wrong. “In the name of all that is holy: Have pity on me!”
Mr. Seller gasped as about a minute's worth of violent plunging was likened to emergency room doctors that pounded on the chest of a trauma victim. The blockage finally broke and the water went down.
Mr. Swieley emerged from the bathroom with a cold, wet towel around his neck. “Folks, I'm really sorry about all of that and I want to thank you for letting me use your bathroom. Because of today's inconvenience, my office is prepared to offer an amazing deal”. The closing statement of the offer promised advertising, open houses and network Realtor marketing for an unbelievably, low commission. Would you believe the homeowners entered an exclusive right to market with Jack Swieley Realty?
It was necessary to drive Mr. Swieley back to the office as he lay in the reclined passenger seat with a cold, wet rag on his forehead. “My God, the things I have to do just to get some business!”
Craig had to wonder: How many times did Mr. Swieley visit the Mapleview Country Diner, just to get some business?
Chapter 25
It was a typical Friday morning as Sara sat in the small, closet-sized office of the Mapleview Coffeehouse, paying bills to vendors and preparing weekly paychecks to part-time employees. Although still considered a modest operation, she had come a long way in success. The morning and afternoon hours were staffed by her and sometimes the morning employee, Dianne. They worked together until the “mature” high school students who rotated manning the coffeehouse in the evening hours throughout the week arrived. Not totally free for weekends, and yet to have enjoyed a week or two of vacation since opening business doors, Sara merely arrived in the early-morning, weekend hours to let employees in and bring the coffeehouse into operation. Then she stayed in tune with the business from a remote location while enjoying the weekend, occasionally making a cameo appearance just to check on things.
Logging the expenses into the spreadsheet, she proudly wore a sparkly, diamond rock on the left hand. It was a gift from Brian on the night he proposed, knelt on the ground with tears in his eyes. The wedding was 6 months away; so much had happened in a little over a year since Sara moved in her duplex condo.
Just then the bell sounded from the door, announcing a customer. Much to Sara's surprise it was Kevin, her neighbor on another temporary leave of duty as a soldier.
“Good morning! Nice to see you!” Kevin was greeted so warmly and made to feel welcome. Should that not be for all men and women who fight for freedom?
He returned the greeting, “Good morning!” Then he placed 3 dollars on the counter. “I'll have your house blend; large, black.”
“Sure, right away!”
Being that Sara was Kevin's neighbor along with the fact that the two went way back, it was certainly appropriate for Kevin to make small talk. “So how's the neighborhood treating you? Everything okay?”
“Oh ya! I love Circle Point!”
“Have you had the opportunity to meet my wife, Debbie?”
Being that Brian and Sara referred to her as “The Woman across the Street”, this was the first time Sara had become aware of her actual name. Aside from that, Debbie, as Sara now knew her, maintained a distance and for probably good reason!
“Yeah, I've met her briefly…”
Sara filled the large cup, all the while “patting herself on the back”, knowing that she would never be like Debbie. Thanks to Debbie, her husband earned the disgraceful reputation as the soldier whose wife cheats on him. He probably knew about it, too! The poor guy most likely felt trapped in his devotion to placing life on the line, while receiving bitter welcomes home from a deceitful wife who couldn't wait for her husband to leave. Sara and Brian would have no such shackles to confine them in life. And being the center of love in a marriage, Sara would always maintain that happiness for the decades, onward to evermore.
And just like a child who zipped off on a bike to escape the rain while leaving a boy trapped in a tunnel, Sara was suddenly burdened with overwhelming guilt. She placed the large cup of coffee on the counter, “You know, I'm sorry; this is probably none of my business, but your wife spends a lot of time with another man while you're gone. He spends the night and stuff.”
Kevin's face turned grave, “Are you sure?”
She nodded slowly, “Yes; they came into the coffeehouse one morning and she was leaning up against him, cuddling. He's a creepy, jerky kind of guy. I actually had to throw them out because he was disruptive.”
With that, Kevin slid the 3 dollars across the counter, “Keep the change!” Then he stormed out, holding the door for a female patron, never losing his sense of chivalry, even when confronted with a possible crisis."
* * *
Owning a business on Mapleview Road and very much a part of downtown Mapleview's culture, one might desire an escape and enjoy an evening out, elsewhere. Sillmac provided such an environment for Brian and Sara as they traveled Mapleview Road in the late afternoon hours, past Creek Highway and due east where it changed to Route 4. Similar to Mapleview, Sillmac has its share of restaurants, shops and even small museums for the town's yearly tourists. But Sillmac is considered a prestigious area in comparison to Mapleview. Taxes are higher, housing with no set price. If you want to ask $350,000, $450,000, or $600,000 for your home; it will sell as no one could set a price on Sillmac.
The historical residences and places of business had been renovated to eliminate any appearance of decay and maintain that 1800s charm. And just like Mapleview, the town is surrounded by thick, forested wilderness. But many of the preserves are improved to the point of qualifying as botanical gardens with paved, nature trails outlined in beautiful flowers; countless ponds with lily pads and meditational gardens at the center of flowing creeks.
Brian and Sara had their own nature path that they regularly walked or biked during their escapes from Mapleview. Since the dinner reservation at the elegant Perry's Seafood wasn't for another couple of hours that Friday night, a casual stroll along their nature path for about an hour was enjoyed
Holding hands with her beloved Brian in the quiet, late afternoon hours, Sara spoke of the incident at the Mapleview Coffeehouse earlier that day. “Oh, the Lady across the Street: her husband is home and he came in this morning.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah; and I found out her real name is Debbie. And I probably shouldn't have done this, but I told him about was going on across the street.”
“Sara, you didn't! You actually told the guy that his wife cheats on him? We have to live with her, you know?”
“I know, I know. But Brian, I felt so obligated to tell him. I just never stopped feeling guilty after what happened when we were kids. He just doesn't deserve it.”
There was a long pause as the engaged couple followed the bend around the lily pond until Brian finally spoke. “I suppose you're right. I see what you mean. Anyway, maybe not the first year after our wedding, but eventually we should probably move out this way.”
“To Sillmac?” Sara was excited.
“Yes! I'm building up clientele and Sillmac isn't that far from downtown Mapleview. We should get some old, historic house in the woods.”
Sara interrupted, “Not like the Trivelli house!” (Remember, this was a couple years before Mary moved in and made the discovery in the vase).
Brian reassured her, “We'll make sure of it.”
And so the engaged couple in just one of many happiest moments in love finished their walk before heading over to Perry's
Seafood for dinner.
By evening they drove Route 4, westbound, until reaching the border of Mapleview while holding hands as Sara's thumb stroked Brian's back of his hand. And in those moments, plenty of reminders were given of “I love you” followed by similar loving responses.
Family and friends who sometimes rode with Brian and Sara took notice of how Sara could not be a silent passenger as she would often call out, “Why are you turning here?” “Why don't you get in the other lane?” “Watch out…”
If you've ever been victim to a backseat driver, you might have noticed how such a person can cause near accidents! But on this night, Sara remained silent as she was trying to repair her reputation of “backseat driver”. Just as Brian had followed the bend where Mapleview Road turned, he slowed down on the dark road for no apparent reason. But Sara remained silent; maybe only sighed.
And just as Brian resumed speed, he quickly swerved to avoid a collision with a deer that crossed the highway. He must have noticed something up the road which caused his unexplained slowing down seconds ago. Although avoiding the deer, the swerve caused the vehicle to run off the road, and down a ditch some 50 feet below. Of course an insurance salesman would have worn a seatbelt and so did Sara! But a large tree had been cracked in half during a recent storm so that the broken top was bent 90 degrees. The windshield rapidly approached towards it. The velocity of descending the slope was enough force for the 90-degree, bent tree trunk to penetrate the glass and make contact with Brian's face. It was completely unrecognizable, no longer part of Brian's body.
Once the vehicle had come to a complete stop, Sara used a second or two to evaluate the new surroundings and then quickly looked over to check on her beloved Brian.
“Brian? Brian? No! No!”
She quickly exited the vehicle with her voice echoing throughout the forest while calling out, “No!” They were cries that anyone would understand to question life's cruelty and the grand scheme of things.
The Tree Goddess Page 20