Significant Others

by Baron, Marilyn

  “Mom?” Hannah asked. “You awake?”

  “Hmmm?” I murmured, barely able to muster enough energy to respond.

  “I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about the business. I know I have to make a decision about my future, and I’m wondering what it will be like to work at Palladino Properties. I think I want to work there after college, but maybe there are other opportunities out there I’d like better. I don’t even know if I have what it takes to be successful, like you and Grandma have been. But I want us to have that closeness you had, to work together. I want that very much.”

  I smiled and reached for her hand.

  “That’s very sweet. I want that too.”

  “And there’s no doubt in my mind you’ll be a success at anything you do,” I said, slipping off my reading glasses and placing my book on the coffee table. This time I paid attention to my daughter, really paid attention.

  “You’re persistent, and persistence pays.” Hannah laughed, no doubt remembering her Grandpa Stanley’s mantra.

  “But in our business you also need to be aggressive, and you need to be flexible. You need to be able to change gears at a moment’s notice. And you’re always in demand. Clients are like kids, needy little children. They hang on you, and if you care about them, it’s easy to become emotionally vested. They need to know what’s going on all the time. You have to tend to them. You can rarely go on vacations because you have to work.

  “Grandma’s more selfish about her time. She doesn’t take every client who comes along. She’s more selective. I’m more chained to the job,” I admitted. “The biggest downside to the business is that your time is not your own. Let’s say a couple comes in from Ft. Lauderdale who is thinking of moving to Atlanta. You have a nice family weekend planned, but they’re coming in on a Thursday and they want to look at everything, right through to Monday. People love to sightsee. You’re expected to drop what you’re doing and give up your weekends and holidays. Until this one, there hasn’t been one Christmas where I haven’t had a major deal going. But most people aren’t even sure about what they want. Grandpa Stanley always used to say, ‘Buyers are liars.’ And what he meant was that buyers don’t know what they want until they see it. They tell you they want a one-story and then they buy a split-level. They tell you they want a house with a basement and then they buy on a slab. It’s an emotional decision.

  “The pro to this business is that you do have freedom, mobility. You can be outside. To some extent, you’re the manager of your own time, the master of your destiny. It’s a fabulous career, and you can earn a lot of money if you work hard and you have good contacts. You can control your own schedule. Especially if you have your mother pinch-hitting for you.”

  “Will I be able to support myself when I first start out?” Hannah asked.

  “Well, you have no predictor of income,” I said. “The market is always fluctuating. You could have four good months and then go six months with no income. I used to worry about those dry spells. The times when I didn’t have a call in two weeks or a sale in six months. You’ve got to have another source of income, especially the first three years. It takes a minimum of three years to build up your business. You can’t eat or even pay your fees if you don’t have another means to support yourself or another income. But you won’t have to worry about that. You’ll come in with a built-in business. That’s why Hammond Reddekker is interested in us. He’s anxious to strengthen his company’s presence in the Southeast. He’s impressed with our prestigious portfolio, our quality real estate products and services, and Grandma and Grandpa’s experience, vision, and leadership track record.”

  “But I don’t want any special favors just because I’m your daughter,” Hannah said.

  “And I wouldn’t give them,” I answered. “You’ll earn your own way. If you work all the time and you have a number of assistants, you can be very successful. But you have to be a real dynamo.”

  “Then I’d have to work too hard,” Hannah said.

  “I was a workaholic when I first established myself,” I admitted.

  Hannah shook her head. “Mom, you’re still a workaholic.”

  I frowned because this wasn’t the first time I’d heard that accusation. Hearing the truth from my husband was one thing, but to have it confirmed by my daughter really brought it home. I think my mother was trying to tell me the same thing for years, but I hadn’t been listening.

  “Why did you decide to go into the business?” Hannah wanted to know.

  “Well, I’d seen how good Grandma was at it. I had done the nine-to-five thing before and I was successful, but I wanted to be in command of my own job, wanted to run my own business.”

  “Didn’t you ever worry about working so closely with Grandma?” I knew she was really asking whether she and I could work together.

  “Well, at the beginning I did worry that I couldn’t do it. That it would be too much mother-daughter togetherness. That I could never do things the way she wanted. Originally, she wanted an assistant. I knew I could never please her, that I’d never be able to do it right. I knew I had to be a realtor, have my own business in my own right, before I felt secure enough emotionally to be able to take criticism from my mother. I didn’t want my success to be predicated on hers.”

  “Exactly,” Hannah said. “You do understand.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the way it was at all. She got me started. At first, we co-listed some properties, not everything. She had her own business going. I brought a few clients of my own to the table. So while we teamed listings in the beginning, eventually she put me on my own listings. By and large, we each had our own buyers, but typically when we list a house, we’ll work it together.”

  “What if we team up and I get married and my husband doesn’t like that arrangement?”

  “Well, that depends on how my future son-in-law will feel about me. I’m not so sure about the Mormon.”

  “Mom, I’m not marrying the Mormon. We’re not even dating, officially.”

  “Okay, well, if your husband’s not supportive or has any issues with me, that’s another story. A man can be jealous, and he might not like the time his wife spends with her mother. He’ll say she expects too much, calls too often. There was a point where Daddy felt that way about Grandma.”

  “How could anybody not love Grandma?”

  “It’s not that he didn’t love her; he was jealous of all the time I spent with her, away from him.” Why didn’t I see that before?

  But Marc was a dangerous topic that the two of us had agreed to avoid for now.

  “Did you ever have arguments with Grandma?”

  “We never had an argument. That’s the uniqueness of a mother-daughter team. We’re not driven by money and who gets what and what is fair. We’re a family.”

  “What about working with Uncle Donny? How is that?”

  “Donny is a natural at residential real estate,” I answered. “Right now, the Atlanta housing market is starting to recover. We’re experiencing strong, steady growth and we’re not as subject to the volatility experienced in other markets. But Donny’s ability to reduce inventory, even in a softening market, during a slowdown of new housing starts, or a ‘housing bubble,’ is nothing short of miraculous. Donny is very believable, and he’s a man of his word. But I think it has more to do with Donny’s looks and magnetic personality than the fact that Atlanta is a desirable place to live and has one of the best housing values in the nation.”

  “Yeah, Uncle Donny is hot,” Hannah agreed.

  “Hot or not, Donny and I make a terrific team. My mother and I also make a great mother-daughter team. And so will we, sweetheart.”

  Hannah put down her book. “What’s the secret of your success?”

  I put down my book, too, closed my eyes, and started talking. “The average homeowner will move every three to seven years. And I have the ability to match my clients with the perfect house: whether they want a bigger house—new construction or a res
ale; a second home; have to move for their jobs; want a different school district; or are retiring and need to downsize to a condo. And I can usually do it within a month, sometimes a week, but that’s rare. Luck has a lot to do with it.

  “That mystique is just part of the reason our firm is so successful. And now I feel like I’ve been reborn because I’m getting all these first-time homebuyers, children of my original clients who want to buy condos. Or my clients have come full-circle and have to move out of their homes because they get sick and must move into condos or assisted living facilities. I don’t want to turn them down when it’s personal like that, even though some of the properties they’re interested in are pretty low-end. I’m busy enough with high-end business, the luxury market, but every client is important to me.

  “In the end, as Grandpa Stanley used to say, ‘this business is all about selling dreams.’ ”

  “One more thing,” Hannah asked. “Will I have to use a BlackBerry? I’m kind of fond of my iPhone.”

  “Well, you’ll need a computer and a mobile phone. Realtors who are very successful, are selling all the time and have great business skills, will generally want some kind of palm pilot. Most of us are just technologically adequate, not necessarily very skilled. We can do it, but if you’re busy selling and you’re in the car, or taking a class, you’re not at your computer seven hours a day. You can pay assistants to do that. The really successful realtors don’t pull listings from a computer. They’re connected; they have great referral sources. I’d say ninety percent of realtors operate out of a daytimer. They write it down. That works fine. That’s what Grandma does. That’s what I used to do until Vicky got hold of me and dragged me into the twenty-first century. She’s trying to convince me to upgrade our computer system. But forty percent of realtors use palm pilots. They can be incorporated into your lockbox key. So you can have one tool that lets you in doors and has all your data. This merger, if it goes through, will give us access to the latest technology.”

  “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you really relax,” Hannah observed, continuing, “What about time? Will there be enough time for children?”

  “Well, of course there will be time. I had you, didn’t I?”

  Hannah paused before she spoke.

  “Mom, don’t take this the wrong way, but I want to be the kind of mother who will be there for her children. And I want more than one. And I want them to know that they’re the most important things in my life...more important than work.”

  Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over.

  “Is that the way you felt?” I levered myself up and stared straight into my daughter’s eyes.

  “I always knew you loved me,” Hannah said. “But I always got the feeling that your work came first.”

  I swiped at the tears with the back of my hand.

  “Nothing is more important to me than you, sweetheart. I thought you knew that.”

  “Don’t cry,” Hannah said. “I didn’t mean it as a criticism. Grandma was there for me when you couldn’t be. But all those times, I wanted you.”

  I sat up all the way and hugged my daughter across what seemed like an impassable gulf.

  “Oh, God, Hannah, I never knew you felt that way.”

  “And maybe Dad did too,” Hannah answered.

  I didn’t know what to say. I was blindsided. All of a sudden the image of myself as the strong, super career woman shattered into a million pieces. I had been so caught up in that life that I’d let the precious years with my daughter slip away. I slumped back on the couch, full of doubts and regrets.

  And maybe Hannah was right about how I had shut Marc out. Maybe, now, I understood how he felt.

  After we stopped talking, I closed my eyes. Just a little nap. That’s what I needed.

  Chapter Twenty: The Gift

  I felt a tug on my throw and I pulled it back up to my chin. I didn’t want to leave my cocoon. I felt something warm and wet on my nose and my lips.

  “What?” I said, sitting up, still drowsy.

  “Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” Marc whispered in my ear.

  “Where’s Hannah?” I asked.

  “She’s over saying goodbye to your aunt,” Marc said.

  “And Mom?”

  “I guess she’s saying goodbye to Daniel.”

  “Oh,” I said, thinking what a shame that she and Daniel were not going to get their happy ending. Donny had gotten his Hanukkah present—a father. But my mother was determined to go back to Atlanta and see the merger through. I knew she was doing it for our sakes. She deserved a rest after all these years. She deserved to be happy. But she was a Palladino, and Palladinos were persistent. She didn’t want to spoil this opportunity for Donny and me. And it was my fault. I’d pressured her into it.

  “I have your birthday present,” Marc said, grinning from ear to ear. “I hope you’re going to like it.”

  “You didn’t have to get me a present, Marc.”

  “I wanted to.” He sat down beside me on the couch.

  “Here, let me show you.”

  He handed me a festively wrapped package.

  “All I could find was Christmas wrap,” he apologized.

  “That’s fine,” I smiled. “You know I love Christmas.”

  I untied the ribbon and tore open the wrapping. When I peeled back the tissue paper, I didn’t recognize what I was looking at.

  “It’s an electric coat liner and gloves,” Marc explained. “It’s sort of like an electric blanket. You wear that under a heavy outer jacket and plug this wire into the connection on the bike. Then the thermostat regulates the heat.”

  “Oh, it’s for the Gold Wing,” I said, suddenly understanding. “Thank you.”

  “Well, that’s just part of it.”

  “Now here’s your Hanukkah present. That goes with it.”

  I opened the second gift and was touched to see Marc had bought me my own helmet with my name, Honey Palladino Bronstein, engraved on it.

  “Oh, this is so nice,” I said, tears springing to my eyes.

  “But that’s not the best part,” Marc said. “There’s another gift.”

  He handed me a flat package, which I hurriedly opened.

  “A map?” I asked as I pulled the paper out of the box.

  “Not just any map,” Marc said, smoothing it out on the coffee table. “Look, I’ve marked the route of the trip we’re going to take, at least I hope you’ll agree to take it with me.”

  “What kind of trip?” I asked.

  “Okay, see here, we’re going to take a trip across the Western United States and into Canada. We’ll start off in Atlanta, then ride to Blue Springs, Missouri, then on to Boulder, Colorado, then to Frisco, Colorado, then Leadville,” he said tracing the path with his fingers. “Then we’re going to take the Million Dollar Highway through the Rocky Mountains, to Black Canyon, then go to Durango and over to Ouray. Then we’ll make overnight stops in Moab and Cedar City, Utah. Next, we’ll head to the Grand Canyon, through the desert to the Pacific Coast Highway, Monterrey, and on to San Francisco, then to Lake Tahoe, Napa, Sacramento, and Portland. We’ll do all the touristy things, eat crab and stare at the sea lions at Fisherman’s Wharf, sample wine in Sonoma, see the redwood trees. All the things we never had time to do.”

  “I’m sure the pioneers would have loved to have had a Honda Gold Wing on their journey across the country.” I laughed.

  “I’m not through,” Marc said seriously. “We’re going to take the ferry to Victoria Island and then, and you’ll love this, we go to Canada, to Jasper and Banff and through Banff National Park, then on to Waterton, in the Canadian Rockies, where I’ve got us a reservation at the Prince of Wales Hotel. Then we travel to Glacier National Park and Butte and Red Lodge, Montana. Then it’s on to Yellowstone National Park and to Grand Teton National Park. We’ll travel on Going-to-the-Sun Road to Wyoming and down the Beartooth Highway. It has an elevation of about 13,000 feet. We’ll return to Atlanta on Hi
ghway 90 through Nebraska, Iowa, and Kentucky. We’re going to criss-cross the entire country.”

  I looked up at Marc. He had hardly paused to take a breath, he was so caught up in his plans. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so excited.

  “Marc, this sounds like a long trip.”

  “I figure maybe about a month.”

  “A month!” I exclaimed, then bit my lip when his face crumpled.

  “The Gold Wing is perfect for long-distance riding,” Marc argued. “I know it’s a long time to take off. But we won’t be leaving till mid-May. By then you’ll have smoothed out the kinks in this investor deal, and maybe Donny can take up the slack. Your mother will be there too. And if it works out that Vicky is appointed CEO, like you suggested, she’ll be a big help to you. And I figure we need this trip, this time alone. It will be just you and me together, roughing it. It’ll be raining and cold sometimes, but the scenery is going to be so spectacular. It will be an unbelievable adventure. Maybe we’ll even see a whale or a gray timber wolf or a herd of buffalo. We’ll cram our iPod full of music and take audio books. And that electric liner will keep you nice and warm. And I’ll keep you warm, baby. Please say you’ll come with me.”

  He looked so hopeful. How could I disappoint him? I thought of all my commitments, all the hard work ahead. A month was a lifetime to be away in the real estate business. So many things could change. So many sales lost. So many missed opportunities. And all of a sudden, just like that, I could see what was important. And it wasn’t the job or the money or even the merger. What was important was sitting right here next to me on the couch.

  “Marc,” I whispered. “I’d love to go with you. We’ll make it work somehow.”