by Molly Greene
“And whaddaya know? An interested party approached me. We struck a bargain to buy the place after Barr, uh, passed, at a very good price. That ad was legit. I just stuck it where no one could find it. The sale is Friday and I’ll be in high cotton. Everybody will be happy.”
Dumbstruck, Genevieve didn’t speak until her heart stopped pounding. She inhaled through her mouth to avoid the smell of his stinking alcohol-soaked breath, then fixed a smile on her face. “Nice going, Levi. Sounds like a mystery, though, huh? How did Bill Barr die? I’ve met him, seemed like a virile enough old guy.”
“He was old. He bit it.”
“Good timing, though, right?” Gen covered his hand with hers. “Have you seen the house? How much would a place like you’re describing be worth?”
His lecherous look grew slimier. “Yeah, I’ve been there. Five acres, a crappy old relic of a cottage. A total tear-down. Worth a lot more than they’re paying for it, though, I can tell you that. Five hundred thousand would be a low-ball, but it went for three-fifty. I’ll get the difference as legal fees. Greasing the wheels and all, helping it slip through the probate people, finding an appraiser willing to bend the rules and write a report without seeing the place.
“And more to come later. I’m in the big time now, baby. It’ll work out well for everyone.” He threw back another shot, then whispered in her ear. “A hundred fifty grand will buy you a lot of lacey lingerie, eh?”
She almost laughed out loud, resisted the thought of punching him in the gut, then struggled to maintain her ruse. “Developers?”
“Yeah. Slice it up into little plots, build mansions. You know the drill.”
“Aren’t there parcel size restrictions in the backcountry? Are you sure that’s why they want the land?”
He gaped at her and stroked her thigh. “What do I care? A customer with dough found the property and asked for help to buy it. End of story. It’s up to them to do their own due diligence. I’m after the paycheck, sweetheart. I’m after the brass ring.”
Gen’s cell buzzed.
He shook his head slowly and wagged a finger. “Uh, uh, uh. No business but funny business between you and me tonight.”
She crinkled her nose at him as she studied the display. Her eyes widened when she recognized the caller. “Oh, but baby, it’s not work. It’s my sister. I have to take this. My mother’s been really sick. We’re almost on death watch. One of the reasons I had to get out tonight, it’s just been intense.
“Hey,” she answered. Her eyes grew huge and dewy. “Oh my God, no.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and held it to her nose. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, sweetie.”
Genny tucked the Blackberry away and threw herself into his arms. “She’s gone, Levi. She’s gone. I’m sorry, but I must go comfort my family.” She sobbed without a sound, her shoulders quaking, then sniffed and wiped a nonexistent tear. She held her breath and kissed his cheek. Before he could embrace her, she grabbed her things and ran to the door.
As she left, she raised a fist to her face with thumb and little finger extended. The universal signal for call me.
Velasco remained slumped at the bar, dejected and sullen, still trying to wrap his head around this sudden turn of fortune.
In the parking lot her sham dissolved into laughter. She pulled out the Blackberry and thumbed in a number.
Anna answered on the first ring. “I’m dying to know why you wanted me to call at seven-fifteen tonight and recite the weather report,” she said. “But hey, you know me, whatever, no questions asked.”
“I owe you big time, sistah. Anything. I mean it, anything. You just saved me from the depths of hell, from a slow, lingering, tortuous death caused by proximity to a total scumbag. I’ll explain later, though. I have to call Madison.”
“You might not be able to get her tonight,” Anna replied. “We talked earlier. She said she was turning off her phones. She’s freaked out, Gen. She sold her house.”
“Wow.” Genevieve whistled. “That was fast. It’s good, I guess. It makes my info even more compelling. I just had cocktails with the ambulance chaser handling the probate on her hobbit house. He had a few drinkies and got a little loose and let it slip that he cut a deal with a client to buy the place at a rock-bottom price. He’s hiding the sale so no one else can bid. It could be a great opportunity for her.”
“Very cool. In that case, I’m happy I could help, my devious friend.”
Gen chuckled. “Thanks, you really did save my butt. Talk to you soon.”
Gen punched in Madison’s land line and began to speak when the message machine picked up. “Yo, girlfriend. I had a chat with the mouthpiece handling your Lake Sonoma house. You owe me, but that’s another story. You have to call me as soon as possible–”
Madison answered the phone. “Hey.”
“Hey, you’re alive.”
“Gen, I sold my house today.”
“Anna told me. Good stuff, right?”
“I don’t know.” Madison sighed. Her voice sounded glum. “I didn’t think it would sell this fast. Now I have to decide where to go, and quick. And to top it off, I have a date with Anna’s professor.”
Genny laughed again. “Oh yeah, there’s a reason to be depressed. Some people might think it was time to celebrate.”
“We don’t know if we’re going to like Coleman Welles, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“Not like him? I don’t get it. What’s not to like? I liked the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he smiled, the way he walked, what he does for a living. What, you think maybe there’s an asshole hidden in there somewhere?”
“Maybe there is.” Madison’s voice was filled with anguish. “You can’t assume he’s a keeper just because he behaved well for two minutes in public. Lots of screwed up people study psychology to try to understand why their lives are crazy. Ted Bundy was a very attractive guy who seemed totally normal, you know. There’s a lot of functioning psychotics out there.”
Genevieve guffawed. “Girl, you’re the one who’s acting nuts. How in the world did you come up with that? Chill. You have a date with a nice man. Don’t over-think it. Let it be a good thing.”
“Oh, poop,” Madison said, then took in air and exhaled heavily before she continued. “It’s not really about him. I’m overwhelmed.”
“Remember, Madison, as far as your house goes, you wanted to sell. You better climb back on that horse and giddy-up. You’ve moved a million times, what’s with the cold feet now? No guts, no glory.”
“All of a sudden I’m acutely aware of the work that needs to be done. And the fact I have no place to go.”
“That’s why I called. Everything is going to be fine. You’ve got to be at the courthouse to bid on your house Friday. From what I heard tonight, it could be the chance of a lifetime. I’ll email more tomorrow.”
* * *
At eight-thirty that evening, Madison was still anxious and drained. When she couldn’t keep her eyes open for another minute, she locked the doors, shut off the lights, and climbed into bed. In spite of her exhaustion, thoughts about the tasks ahead and all that could go wrong chattered in her head.
She tossed and turned for over an hour.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
Why did she feel like she was jumping off a cliff without a parachute? She couldn’t help wondering what life would be like if she had a partner to share it. And why she didn’t seem to be willing to make that happen.
She finally fell into a fitful sleep, but woke near midnight with a rush. A phrase stuck in her mind, repeating over and over like tickertape, as if whispered aloud in the dark.
Know this as truth: Clarity will come, carried by dreams on the wings of birds.
Chapter Eight
From: Genevieve Delacourt
Sent: Monday, September 09 7:06 AM
To: Madison Boone
Subject: Probate Sale
Hey you, good morning. I did some homework and this is what I found. First, here’s
a quick rundown of how the process works: The Probate Referee prepares an inventory valuation for the estate. Then they obtain an appraisal, which can’t be more than one year old at the time of the sale.
The property is offered at the appraised value. No offer lower than 90% of that amount will be considered. I’ll bet Velasco manipulated the appraiser to come in at $389,000. As Executor, he accepted a bid for 90%, which is $350,100.
When an Executor accepts an offer, the estate’s attorney (in this case also Velasco) schedules a public hearing, during which additional bids are requested and entertained. Other bidders present their offers at this time.
The hearing notice must be published at least three times immediately before the sale, which for your house is 2:00 p.m. Friday at the Santa Rosa County Courthouse.
The minimum amount allowed for a new offer is 5% over the original offer plus $500. Again, the first bid must be at least 5% + $500 greater than the $350,100 contract already accepted, so the next offer considered must be at least $368,105. I’d be prepared to go higher. There’s no way to know how much Velasco’s group is willing to pay. He thinks he’s got it all sewn up, so I’m curious if he’ll show.
Although the house wasn’t accessible, there’s an outside chance someone else saw the notice and will be there to make an offer, as well. You’ll also have to deal with the fact that he’s got the Probate Referee (or someone in the office) in his pocket. This could be the toughest part.
All offers are subject to court approval. You might consider bringing along a P&L and bank statements, maybe a letter from a lender, whatever you think is right, just in case you pull it off. Can’t hurt.
The Court requires a cashier’s check for 10% of the accepted offer to be submitted as a deposit. Arrange to have at least $37,000 in a liquid savings or money market account by Friday morning so you can get a check. I’d pad that in case the bidding goes higher. If you need help getting cash together, I’ve got some dough socked away.
Anyway, if you score, you open escrow and the sale will proceed like any other. Except the Executor is not obligated to provide the buyer with the typical written property disclosures. The law says he is NOT exempt from disclosing known defects, but I wouldn’t count on it. The onus will be on you.
Can’t be there Friday, we wouldn’t want Velasco to know I had anything to do with it. But you don’t need representation, just show up and give it your best shot. Yahooo, GOOD LUCK! ;-] Love, Gen
From: Madison Boone
Sent: Monday, September 09 8:21 AM
To: Genevieve Delacourt
Subject: RE: Probate Sale
OH MY GOSH that price can’t be right. Are you sure?? The land alone is worth more, even in this market. How exciting is that?! And good news, I’ve been saving change and collecting aluminum cans and abstaining from the purchase of expensive wine and manicures for years, so I have enough cash. Have I told you lately how very much I love and appreciate you? And your parents, who paid for law school. Yuck yuck. XOXOXO MB
Chapter Nine
Late Friday afternoon a shocked but exultant Madison exited the courthouse and stood on the front steps of the massive building. She glanced at the papers clutched in her hand and shook her head in disbelief. Here was the proof, stamped in red ink and signed by a representative of the Sonoma County Probate Referee. She’d just bought a house on five acres for $368,500, her initial bid, from the estate of Edward and Mallory Blackburne.
No one from the original buyer’s camp appeared at the hearing. In spite of all her worry, not a soul was present to offer a challenge. Only a meek clerk of the court who stood in for the regular Referee was present, and he appeared put-upon and eager to be done with the humdrum extra task.
Madison’s contract and deposit were accepted without condition and inked with the appropriate bureaucratic rubber stamps. With a little more luck, the house would be hers in a month or so.
Much remained to be done.
She ripped open a manila envelope labeled Personal Property Included in the Sale, and gasped at the photos inside. They were shots of the house’s interior. Some she recognized; the rest she assumed were of the upstairs rooms. The pictures were accompanied by a typed list that included everything from furniture to kitchen utensils and pictures on the walls.
It was all too good to be true.
She slipped out her cell and punched a number.
When Gen answered, she whispered, “We did it. We bought it.”
“Outsmarted Velasco,” Genny replied. “Damn, that was way too much fun.”
“No one was there but me and a guy from the county. The whole process took about fifteen minutes. Isn’t it outrageous to think that nine days ago I didn’t know anything about that house?”
“I told you it would be an adventure. But I wonder if I need to do damage control.”
“About what?”
“Velasco. He might be smart enough to put two and two together.”
“Could you get in trouble? What can he do?”
“If you need something to fret about, shouldn’t it be all the packing?”
“All right.” Madison laughed. “Gen, you know how grateful I am. I’ve got a lot on my plate, and for the first time in days I’m so excited I can’t think. I’ll call later. I’m heading to Home Depot to buy cardboard boxes now.”
Madison tucked the documents in her bag and dropped the phone in a pocket, then pulled it out again and called Cole. He answered on the third ring.
“Hey, it’s my real estate agent. Something change since we spoke Wednesday?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” she said. “I made an offer on a house. It was just accepted.”
“Congratulations. Boy, nothing stands still around you for long.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Madison replied. “Some things don’t seem to make a lot of progress.” She tried to think of the right thing to say but gave up. “Listen, it’s rude and last-minute, but can we postpone tomorrow? I found a couple properties you might be interested in, but nothing jumped out. They’ve both been on the market for a while. There’s probably no danger in waiting. I, uh, need to start packing.”
“Of course.” He sounded disappointed. “I take it you’re not in the mood for dinner either?”
Madison gripped the phone. “It feels more like an overloaded schedule issue than a mood issue.”
“Are you sure? I hear the sound of locking brakes, see skid marks on the road.”
“I need time,” she said. “But I can refer you to another agent if you want to look at these properties right away. I don’t want to hold you back.”
“No, I’m good. Houses can wait. Shall I call you in a week or so?
“How about I call you.”
“All right,” he answered evenly. “I was looking forward to tomorrow, but instead I’ll look forward to talking with you soon.”
“Thanks, Cole. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye for now,” he answered.
Madison rolled her eyes. She felt torn. Should she call back and ask to keep the dinner date? Not only was he a great guy, he was interested. She wondered why her gut was urging her to stay away. Was the work just an excuse?
Hadn’t she just wished for a partner to share it all with?
Yes, but this friendship – or whatever it was – didn’t qualify as a relationship. She couldn’t be sure it ever would. She dare not ask him to help. It would only paint her as a weak woman in distress. Did she really have time to split her strength between the effort it took to get to know someone and making it through two sales? Hardly.
Life was draining enough.
It was easier to be alone. No one to negotiate with, no need for compromise, no permission required. As for the heavy lifting, that could be hired out.
“Well, I may be an idiot, but I’m an idiot with a mountain of work to do.”
She took a deep breath and plunged down the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Genevieve stepped off the elevator on the fift
eenth floor of a downtown San Francisco high rise, dressed in a dark green Lanvin suit and matching pumps. A dozen strands of delicate gold chain brushed the top button of her jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, showcasing cherry lipstick and gold hoop earrings.
She pushed through a door into the unoccupied foyer of Velasco’s offices. Beige tones, carpet to ceiling, unadorned and lacking in atmosphere or style. Fitting that the man would have a boring décor. The perfect complement to his dreary personality.
The clock on the wall behind reception read four o’clock exactly. The plan was to catch him off guard and go out for cocktails to calculate his frame of mind. Genny didn’t want to wait for the gatekeeper to show up and herd her in the right direction. She tapped her foot, thinking, then guessed and headed north along the interior hall.
Four doors down, she stopped outside a partially open door when she heard Velasco’s voice within. She forced a smile and glided through. The outer office was empty. Looked like everyone left early for the weekend.
Maybe they just couldn’t get out fast enough.
The inner office door was closed, but she could hear Velasco bellowing like an uneducated rube at some poor lackey. She didn’t hear another voice. He was probably at the end of a bad phone call. She closed the door and slipped into his admin’s desk chair to wait until the conversation was over.
The loopy feminine scrawl on a calendar at her left indicated a dental appointment today at three o’clock. Beside it was a photo of Velasco posing with a short woman in huge spectacles. She’d bet fifty bucks that the girl in the picture was Velasco’s secretary. Gen knew at once they were sleeping together by the rapturous look on the plump redhead’s face.
So much for sexual harassment laws.
Velasco raised his voice an octave. She heard him shout, “What the hell do you mean, goddamit, someone else bought it? No one knew. Who else could have been there?” His voice grew more boisterous with every word. “I can’t believe you allowed this. Why didn’t you stop the sale? What the hell did I grease your palm for anyway, dimwit, if I wasn’t paying you to do exactly what needed to be done? You told me it was in the bag.”