by K L Finalley
"It's hard to get financed for that much these days. It doesn't matter who you are. It's just a bad market for that kinda mortgage, but you don't need one." She stopped suddenly and asked, "Why aren't you ready to offer the asking price?'
"Something the neighbor said," Jacqueline was thinking aloud. She started to back out of the parking lot.
"What'd he tell you?"
"Mostly, what you said. He mentioned that the price was too high, but he also said that they've waited so long they're falling into foreclosure."
"Really?" Vicki's interest was piqued.
"I don't want to be the bad person who takes advantage of their situation."
"They were fools for leaving it on the market this long. What'd they think would happen?"
"His wife is sick. He moved to be close to family to help care for her," Jacqueline admitted.
"We could offer more than the mortgage as measure of civility."
"That sounds nice. Can you find out what they owe on the mortgage?"
"Hang tight. I'm checking now." She was typing. "I'm assuming Mallory liked it."
"You know, she did. You suckered me."
Laughing, she replied, "I'm supposed to sell houses. That's my job."
"This house is huge. We will never ever fill it up."
"Who says you have to fill it up? Uh, wait. Looks like they owe just shy of six hundred thousand."
"Well, that didn't take long." She thought for a second and said, "Let's start the bidding at six-fifty and see what they counteroffer. You can let them know what we're up to," Jacqueline was ready to deal. "How does that sound to you?"
"It sounds like an interesting afternoon," Vicki said.
"Text me with the updates. I've got an afternoon meeting, but I'll have my watch on." She pulled into her parking garage and said, "Be in touch?"
"Will do," Vicki said.
"Hey, don't contact Mallory," Jacqueline demanded.
"Okay, okay," Vicki chuckled as she disconnected.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jacqueline parked the car in the garage across the street from the Sun. She snatched her old messenger bag from the backseat, locked the doors, and strolled towards the building. Part of her wanted to put the house out of her mind, but the other part knew that Clementine was what awaited her. She entered the building through the packaging area. It was far less busy than it had been. The age of printing newspapers was being replaced by the age of uploading the newspaper. Jacqueline touched the cold machinery. For years, she loved the hustle and bustle of the ground operation. She loved the activity of the paper being generated on offset printing press. She'd walk past the crew on ladders guiding paper through the machine. She could see blank pages becoming printed and cut. She could watch the hard work of writing turn into a physical form. And, while the Sun still produced a physical paper, it did so in much smaller amounts than it once did. There were far fewer people, far fewer reams of paper, far fewer trucks; and, the absence of that room filled with activity saddened her. With her head down, she stalked off the production floor. She headed to the elevator and straight up to the news floor.
While standing in the back of the car, her phone vibrated. She reached into her pocket to check it rather than look at her watch.
Vicki: There's another bidder.
Jacqueline: Finance or cash?
Vicki: Finance for sale price. Agent isnt sure buyer can manage it.
Jacqueline: Hmm. Don't take any chances. Make our plan known.
Vicki: K
The doors opened and the people who were on the elevator with Jacqueline stepped aside for her to exit, but she never looked up. She walked straight ahead still texting.
Jacqueline: GET ME THAT HOUSE!
Vicki: Upper limit?
Jacqueline: I dont even know. Contact me if it gets to a mil.
Vicki: I guess you want it.
Jacqueline: Yep!!!!!! Let's do it!!!!
Vicki: On it!
As she stood outside the elevator that would lead up to her office, she looked behind her at the staff she had passed. She thought that some of them might had spoken to her. Some of them had certainly said something to her and she had not responded. In fact, she had ignored them completely. She thought about returning down the aisle to give them another chance at her attention, then she thought against it. She was filled with nervous anxiety. While she wasn't a perfect frame of mind to end someone's career, she had energy nonetheless. She rode the final car up to the management level of the building. The car doors opened and Grant and Mrs. Pennington looked up and saw her.
"Good morning, Jacqueline," Grant said.
"Hi, Grant. Mrs. Pennington. How are you both?" she responded.
"Another great day," Mrs. Pennington replied.
Jacqueline glanced at her, but she said nothing. There was no time or energy to unravel the source of that sarcasm. As she entered her office, Grant followed, "Jill wants to meet with you as soon as you arrive and Alex has been looking for you."
"Let Jill know I'm here and tell Alex I'll check with her in bit."
"How'd the house hunt go?" Grant asked as he placed tea on her desk. She thought about how much he really knew about her life, how much she shared, and how he seemed genuinely interested.
She sat down in her desk chair and let her bag fall beside her. "It's huge, but great. I mean, I thought of a million things I'd do. But, it's not like it needs it. It's like things I'd want to do. Does that make sense?"
"To make it feel like home," he said as he placed pads of paper on her desk.
"Is that how it happens? Is that how a place feels like home?"
Opening the box of pens, he had ordered for her. "Yeah, you see yourself there. You know, you think I'd put a chair here or a couch there. Your mind decorates or imagines you living there. Even if, it makes updates. It rebuilds it as yours." He said without thought, without looking at her. "Are you gonna try to get it?"
"I just text Vicki on the way up to my office to go for it, but there's another bidder. I'm nervous."
He was turning on the printer and clearing out her faxes. "Want me to tell her to contact me with any progress since you've got a couple of meetings this morning?"
"That'd be incredible. Would you mind?"
"Of course not," he swished his hand to indicate that it was no trouble and walked to her office door. Before he left, he said, "I'll let Jill know you're here."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jacqueline sat at the back of the conference room. Rather than peer out the windows at the Bay, she sat in her chair and hovered over the table. A passerby would have assumed she was hard at work preparing for her meeting with Clementine, but she was not. There were no key points to discuss with Clementine jotted on the pad that rested on the table before her. Upon close inspection, the page had three columns with headings that read MUST HAVES, COULD HAVES, and WOULD LOVES. In each column, there were items that corresponded to the categories as well as the dollars that she associated with items. Her rock waterfall was listed as a WOULD LOVE at five thousand dollars, but patio furniture was beside it in the MUST HAVE column at a thousand dollars. She tapped her pencil against the pad as she debated if the subzero refrigerator was a COULD HAVE or a WOULD LOVE. She thought of different types of sod, but she quickly realized that she knew names of different sods but no real details that distinguished them. She insisted on the replacement of all the windows. Painting was a MUST HAVE, but a barrel ceiling was a COULD HAVE. She sat at the head of that huge table picking and choosing the changes to make in the house that she didn't own. She hadn't heard from Vicki. Grant hadn't heard from Vicki, but she'd decided she was willing to spend the million on the house.
In Baltimore, she and Mallory said that they'd never spend more than a million dollars on a house. The asking price for this house was eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but there was another bidder. The sheer presence of that bidder made her evaluate the lengths she was willing to explore to own that house.
&nbs
p; Before she walked into the conference room, she sat in her office and reviewed the contents of her 401K plan. It was hers. She'd been investing for years. There was a stipulation that she could withdraw money from it for a primary home purchase. For nearly an hour, she had sat at her desk contemplating that very fact. It wasn't that she didn't have access to other money. The sale of her father's house had left her access to millions that Ethan had invested, but she had agreed with Mallory to only spend a million. But, what if it took more than a million to secure the house? Should she walk away or should she withdraw whatever was needed from her personal 401K to guarantee that that house became their home? While she knew it would violate what they'd agreed upon, Mallory would never know and it was a secret that would benefit the family. Yet, it was the very kind of secret that caused their near end in Baltimore. She contemplated that at her desk. She stared out over the news floor, looking for Mallory's head. And, once again, she was shocked back into the reality of her absence. Her head was across town in a meeting at Channel Four. She paced her office speaking aloud to herself, giving the illusion she was using her speakerphone. She was not.
Then, she returned to her desk and twirled in her chair, trying to separate her determination from her morality. She knew it wasn't the right decision, but she had resigned herself to that house. She had moved into it in her mind. She had thought of where she wanted things to go, where the Christmas tree would be placed, what their first family meal would be. She knew she wanted to stand in that driveway and watch Zoe drive away for the first time. She heard the squeals of teenage girls over her head. She wanted to see Zoe walk down the stairs in her prom dress, in her cap and gown, in her wedding dress. She knew that house was home and she didn't know if she could just let it go when she had the ability to make it theirs. She was stewing in that uncertainty when Jill came to her office.
She hadn't listened to Jill. She had thought about the house. As she had watched Jill leave to retrieve Clementine's employee file and other papers, she adjourned from her office and headed to the conference room.
Half in the office and half in her head, she ignored Alex, "Gotta a minute?" Jacqueline said nothing. She walked to the Conference room without pause. "Hey, Jacqueline, did you hear me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was off…"
"In lala land? Yeah, I noticed. Gotta a minute?"
Looking at her watch, she noticed there was no text from Vicki. "Actually, I don't. I have a meeting. I'll come see you when it's over."
"Call me and I'll come up," Alex said.
Paying attention, Jacqueline was concerned. "Everything okay?"
"Things're fine. I just don't need everyone to overhear."
"Since when did that matter to you?"
"Very funny," Alex replied as she waited on the elevator to return her to the news floor.
As she opened the door to the room, the light overwhelmed her. She went to her usual spot and sat down. She didn't daydream of being on the bay in the water. She didn't plan a scheme to access money without Mallory's knowledge. She came into the light and realized that access to cash would sway a buyer faster than a bidder who'd have to gain a mortgage. So, she went about making her columns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jacqueline and Jill had been perched in the Conference room on opposite sides of the mahogany table for twenty minutes when Clementine arrived.
"What's up, y'all?" she said.
Jacqueline looked up from her growing list to see Clementine standing before her in a yellow shirt with scalloped sleeves. She leaned forward to inspect the buttons. Are those bones, she wondered. Before she could be sure, her eyes frowned at the black pants with large, white polka dots. Scrolling from the shirt to the pants and back down again, Jacqueline wondered how this outfit worked, but then she noticed the yellow patent leather creepers donning her feet. She had always thought these costumes had stretched the bounds of business causal, but Jacqueline hadn't wanted to make a formal issue of it. She had wanted to leave dress as fluid as she could, but Clementine had found a way to move that state from fluid to gaseous at every turn. "Good afternoon."
"Well, that's stuffy," Clementine remarked and slipped her hand down the right side of her bald head.
Wait. What the fuck. Where'd her hair go? Jacqueline thought. Have I been out of it all week? Have I not seen her all week? Why haven't I noticed this? Her mind filled with questions and she became oddly aware that her face possibly looked as perplexed as she felt. Thinking that Clementine might have sensed it, she faked a clearing of her throat. "Sorry. Dry patch." Then, she faked some coughing for good measure. "Okay, before we get started with your assessment, is there anything you would like to present?" It was her standard start of any review. While Clementine's result was to be different than the other performance review meetings, Jacqueline decided that her start would be the same.
"Huh?" Clementine grunted.
"It's just a little something I say. I try to give you the chance to tell me anything you want to tell me before we start your review."
Turning and placing her feet in the leather seat beside her, she remarked, "I had an incredible year." Clasping her fingers, she placed them on her head and said, "I won the Netty and I'm the head of IT."
Staring at her feet in the chair, Jacqueline requested, "Please take your feet out of the chair. Thank you." After Clementine had removed her feet and sat upright, Jacqueline regained her focus. "Did you have a chance to read your review?"
"What?"
"The email that I sent you had an attachment. The attachment was your performance review. Did you open it and read it?"
"No. I thought why bother."
"Okay," Jacqueline exhaled. "Well, let's start there." She passed Jill and Clementine a copy of the performance review. "Here's a copy of your performance review. Had you reviewed it prior to this meeting you would see that I scored you as having had a mixed year."
Lunging forward in her chair, Clementine was no longer relaxing. "What the fuck, Jacqueline. Are you trying to…"
"Let's hold on a second and review each of the categories."
"I don't want to review shit. I want you to tell me how the hell you could give anything less than fucking amazing," Clementine blared.
"If you would look at the document, you'd see that you were scored as exceptional in," Jacqueline was pointing them out. "Job knowledge, accountability, and objectives."
"Well, what else is there?"
Jill spoke, "Clementine, my presence in your performance review should remind you of your performance action plan…"
"Here this bitch goes," she leaned forward and hung her head.
"Watch it," Jacqueline warned Clementine, then she signaled Jill to continue.
"You were tardy by more than an hour on more than sixteen occasions in a six-month period. That behavior necessitated an action plan."
"Thanks for reminding me," Clementine snipped.
Jacqueline interceded. "Okay, we aren't gonna rehash it, but clearly, you were unable to get exceptional in the attendance category. Next up is judgment. It came to my attention that since addressing the tardy policy, you have been discovered asleep at your desk on more than twelve separate occasions. These occasions are documented and have your signature. Therefore, you could not be rated well for judgment either."
"This is bullshit. This bitch is out to get me. Jacqueline, you know she hates me," Clementine said and flung her performance review in Jill's direction. The stapled papers flew into the air, but, then seesawed back onto the table. Looking at Jacqueline, she said, "You know, she hates people like us."
Jacqueline closed her eyes. She was exhausted. "If that's an official complaint, please document it in writing and I will proceed with an investigation."
"Fuck yeah, I will."
"Clementine, now, I have to discuss a very serious matter. You've been accused of harassment and causing a hostile work environment."
"Lemme guess by Jill, the fucktard," Clementine teased.
; Jacqueline widened her gazed. "This is a serious matter. It's my job as Managing Editor to provide a safe space for all employees and I must address this employee's concern. I want you to look at something." From her pocket, she removed Nelson's cellphone and placed it on the table. "Do you know what this is?"
"A fucking phone, Sherlock?"
"Thanks. The sarcasm is appreciated. Open it up and read through the text conversations with your name on it."
Clementine reached for the phone. "This is an old ass phone. Who still has a phone like this?" She said as her fingers scrolled past assorted names. "I guess I'm reading the conversation with my name?"
"You'd be right," Jacqueline said. Then, she reared back in her chair and checked her watch. There were no messages. She wished she could have walked out of the room and have Grant call Vicki. She wished she had her laptop, so she could inconspicuously email him or Vicki or both. "Do you recognize this conversation?"
"Yeah, I wrote it."
"So, you acknowledge you are the author of the comments?"
"Yeah, but he loved it. Fuckin' Nelson. He's just a little nerd who likes for people to think he doesn't know what's up. But, my bro is a freak deep down," she said as she pushed the phone back to Jacqueline.
"Do you recognize that he asked you repeatedly to stop?"
"Yeah, but do you see that he didn't come tell you? I mean, sure, he texted for me to stop, but he didn't after every pic. He said stop after some of them. I was tryin' to figure out what my partna liked."
"What? No, no, you aren't. He asked you repeatedly to stop sending him pictures. It's documented. He told you to stop talking to him at work and to stop calling him. That isn't partners," Jacqueline was shaking her head with confusion.
"He was just trying to keep his cover."
"Okay. Look at the last picture. Clearly, this picture is a still image of a sexual activity occurring at the office on Nelson's desk after hours. It's a picture of you and another woman."