“Done!” says Robert. “See you then!”
Elizabeth hangs up and buzzes Ben, saying, “Come in, I can’t find the exclusive for 850 Park, did you move it?” And then she calls Kate into her office.
“Good news, Robert Morgenstern is having us for lunch at his new project.” Kate does her and Isabel’s “woohoo” dance—they both have had little crushes on Robert ever since they met him at the launch of one of his downtown buildings their first year in the business.
“Tell Isabel,” Elizabeth says, “and now I need help writing up my new listing. Pass me a pretzel, a very salty one.”
The phone is ringing again. It’s her client Todd Wolcott, the young hedge fund manager who dropped off the face of the earth after Elizabeth showed him and his wife the loft near the Bowery last spring.
“Elizabeth,” he gushes, “I’m sorry not to have been in touch. But it’s been a busy time for both of us.”
“Don’t be silly,” Elizabeth says, using a phrase that both her daughters are fond of, though to her it conveys a disingenuous nonchalance.
“Well, this is a good-news call. My wife and I are ready to buy at the building we saw near the Bowery. Believe it or not, we’ve been mulling it over since April. Of course, we know that the choices are more limited now.”
“I do know that quite a few—though not all—of the apartments have been sold, but let me call and see what’s left that will work for you,” Elizabeth says. Had such a high-end, luxurious building been in a better location, it would be totally sold out by now, she knows.
“Oh, we know exactly what has and hasn’t sold,” Todd says. “We’ve checked StreetEasy and have been following its progress on Curbed.com and The Real Deal. We know what’s available. And we’ve even been to see apartment 5L—we told the broker from LEX that since you brought us to the building, we felt that you should represent us.”
Oh, how delighted she is to imagine Christopher McKinnon’s face when the Wolcotts told him that.
“Thank you,” she says now.
“We’re going to make this very simple for you, Elizabeth,” Todd says. “We know the listing price and the selling price of the units. We have friends who live in the building who’ve purposely been keeping track of the sales. They told us that one apartment in the L-line on a higher floor than the one we saw was under contract at $2.65 million. That the broker, Christopher McKinnon, sold it himself, but that deal fell through. So we’d like you to offer $2.65 million on our behalf.”
“I’ll call right now,” she says, and is soon off the phone.
A moment later, Isabel calls on her way to a showing on Central Park West.
After quickly updating her on the Wolcotts, Elizabeth tells her that Jonathan has hacked into Teddy’s computer with the program that reads keystrokes. “So we should be able to find out soon why Teddy’s been in such close contact with McKinnon and LEX,” she says.
“I can’t wait to find out,” Isabel says. “And the countess called, finally. We’re having lunch tomorrow, and then going back to the town house that I wanted to show her.”
“Sounds good!”
“There’s something I find a little weird, though,” Isabel says.
“Which is?”
“When I first showed her the house, she was in love. We both agreed that it might just be ‘the one.’ But once I talked to her about rescheduling the appointment, she seemed a lot less enthusiastic. I almost felt like I was pushing her to see it. I can’t explain it.”
“She’s weird, but you have to play it out,” Elizabeth says.
“Oh, of course!”
Elizabeth glances at her watch and realizes that if she doesn’t leave right now, she’ll be late to meet Suzanne Shea at her $28 million Time Warner listing with Suzanne’s wealthy Japanese clients. The husband is one of Sony’s high-ranking executives.
She’s in a taxi on her way over to Columbus Circle when Tom calls to tell her that Jonathan is now monitoring Teddy’s computer from home.
“However, Teddy called in to say he’d be working from his apartment for part of the day,” Tom says.
“Okay, good,” she says.
“Also, Ben printed out the JetBlue itinerary, and it lists only Roxy and Lola on the ticket,” Tom says.
“Are you kidding?” she screams. “That’s a disaster!”
“I know, you have to call them back.”
“Oh my God, I knew I was speaking to an idiot when I booked, she repeated everything ten times and still didn’t get it. . . . Oh, I can’t do it right now, I’m late for a showing, call Kate, tell her to call JetBlue, give her the reservation number, and—”
The call drops as the taxi goes through the park.
The penthouse at 80 Columbus Avenue in the Time Warner Center is, no question about it, the definition of a “wow” apartment. With unobstructed views of Manhattan and the outer boroughs, it is on the seventy-fifth floor and is currently, elevation-wise, the highest condo in Manhattan. The apartment is all ten-foot floor-to-ceiling windows, the living room thirty feet wide, and the master suite has thirty-two feet of glass facing Central Park. The dining room and two of the four bedrooms offer a panoramic view of the Hudson River. The current owners, Saudis who use a London address, have decorated it minimally in all-white leather sofas and a highly glossed white birch dining table with matching white leather chairs.
The Japanese couple are both dressed impeccably in Prada black. The man is handsome, with thick, jet-black hair, but he is eclipsed by his wife, who has a porcelain-like, ethereal beauty and a grace of movement Elizabeth finds disarming. She imagines Mrs. Watanabe to be highborn, even fantasizes that she might be Japanese royalty. When the woman turns to speak to her to ask about the apartment, she speaks in perfect English. Mr. Watanabe’s English is adequate, though not nearly as polished as his wife’s. The couple seems to love the apartment, and Elizabeth and her friend Suzanne Shea exchange excited looks. And then Mrs. Watanabe addresses them and says that she and her husband would like to retreat to the master bedroom in order to have a private conversation. They do so and softly close the door.
Suzanne turns to Elizabeth. “Actually . . . there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Elizabeth nods. “Yes?”
“Anyway,” Suzanne says, “I was helping cover for another broker in my office who has a listing in the San Remo and who couldn’t meet Isabel and her client, this was last spring. Isabel arrived with this blond woman who was very charming and had a foreign accent.”
“The countess with the mystery husband.”
“Oh, so she’s a countess?” Suzanne sighs. “And married?”
“Yes, his name is Fritzie,” Elizabeth says.
Frowning, Suzanne says, “Well, guess what, I saw Isabel’s countess again just last week. I knew I recognized her, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember from where. And then I—” She hesitates, as though for effect. “Well, you know Donny was born in Ireland,” Suzanne says, referring to her husband.
“Of course,” Elizabeth says. “How many times have the four of us had dinner together?”
“Well, I’m just reminding you of it because he likes to go to this real dive of an Irish pub way downtown right next to where the World Trade Center was. And on Sundays, I often go with him, and we watch the European football matches with friends.”
Elizabeth has no idea where this conversation could possibly be going. “Okay . . .” she says.
“Well, a week ago, we were there with a few of Donny’s friends, and one of them, Liam, pretty rough around the edges, was with this woman, the woman Isabel brought to see the apartment in the San Remo. I talked to her, and of course who could forget that strange accent? She was very cozy with Liam, and I just assumed they were a couple.”
“Are you sure, Suzanne?” Elizabeth says.
“Oh, yes.”
“This is very strange,” is all Elizabeth says. At that moment, the Watanabes emerge from the bedroom. Mrs. Watanabe announces that she and her husband would like to go back to Suzanne’s office for a discussion about the apartment.
Suzanne turns to Elizabeth with a smile. “That’s absolutely fine.” And then sotto voce, “You’ll be hearing from me later,” her smile conveying her excitement over the prospect of co-brokering such an enormous sale.
Elizabeth counts the moments until the Watanabes leave and she can call Isabel and Tom and let them know what Suzanne told her about Delphine. When she speaks to Tom, he promises to call Isabel and relay the news. “By the way,” he says quietly, “Teddy’s in the office now, and Jonathan’s monitoring him.”
“Tell me if he comes up with anything.”
Her phone rings while she’s in a taxi on the way back to the office; the ringtone is Billy Joel’s “My Life.” “Hi, darling,” she says to her son.
“Mom,” he says. “I’m in his e-mail. And it’s bad.”
“What is it?”
“I asked Dad to explain to me about Luxury Estates.”
“What about Luxury Estates?” Elizabeth says.
“Well, you’re not getting it. It’s going to LEX.”
“What? How do you know?”
“It’s all in the e-mail. I can’t pinpoint the exact amount, but a few of the e-mails between Teddy and someone named Christopher McKinnon hint at the fact that they paid Teddy to help them get the account. And Teddy wrote to Christopher to say that the announcement that LEX is getting Luxury Estates will be made next week. They also talked about his commission split. Dad says that means he’s planning to go and work for them.”
Of course. It all makes sense now. Why didn’t she realize this? Elizabeth says to herself. The taxi she’s in is heading along Central Park Drive North, veering around a pack of reed-thin runners all dressed in tight black spandex.
“Dad’s about to call our lawyer,” Jonathan is saying.
“Okay. But is Teddy still at the office?”
“Violeta said he went out to show.”
“Thank God you were home to do this for us, Jonathan. I’ll see you at the office soon.”
“Of course, Mom, anything for the family. I just can’t believe this guy. Love you,” Jonathan says.
“Love you, too.”
“Oh, and I won’t see you at the office, I’m going to Best Buy to get the new iPhone, and then I have to go home and write.”
Teddy is indeed gone by the time Elizabeth reaches the office. Tom comes out of the office they share, and tells her they can’t do anything until they speak with Jeffrey Tabak, their lawyer; Tom’s already placed a phone call to him. “Not a word,” he says.
“Okay, I figured,” Elizabeth says, feeling her eyes sting.
“I’m hoping we’ll be able to fire Teddy by the end of the day. Let’s just see what Jeffrey has to say.”
Thankfully, Elizabeth has a lot of things to distract her, principal among them an envelope from LEX with Barry Kessler’s tax returns, which, after numerous requests, his broker was finally able to messenger over to Elizabeth. She opens the package and quickly looks at the income of the potential buyer of the co-op at 33 East 70th Street. In 2007 his net earnings were $1.4 million. In 2009 his net earnings were $990,000. But in 2008, he recorded a loss of income of $800,000.
She looks at her watch. It’s 11:30 a.m.; she’s meeting her seller Maxwell Glenn at his office at 3:00.
She calls Roberta Green and says, “Well, I’m concerned about the one year where Barry Kessler reported that negative eight hundred thousand dollars. Is he financing?”
“Yes, but noncontingent,” Roberta tells her. “Oh, and he’d like to put down a five percent deposit.”
“Are you kidding? As you know, Roberta, the deposit is always ten percent.”
“Close to five hundred thousand is enough of a deposit,” Roberta insists.
“Roberta, the board will see the deposit—a five percent one, which I have seen maybe once in my career—and raise a huge red flag. Why on earth would he do that?”
Roberta apparently pretends she doesn’t hear this, and continues as though she is reading a script. “We also want to raise our offer by another hundred thousand dollars. They want to nip the other bidders in the bud, and I imagine this will do it.”
“Please tell him the deposit absolutely must be ten percent—and I’ll speak to my seller,” she tells Roberta.
When she hangs up, Tom tells her that Jeffrey Tabak is tied up in a deposition but hopes to get back to them about Teddy in the midafternoon.
“Oh, God,” Elizabeth says, “I just hope I can control myself when he comes into the office.”
“Yes, you will,” Tom assures her. “You’ll be fine.”
“What if I just ask him if he’s heard anything more from Barrington’s and the announcement that we’ve been selected for Luxury Estates?”
“For what reason?”
“Well, just to see the expression on his face,” Elizabeth says.
“Let’s just not engage him,” Tom says.
Thankfully, Teddy is coming into the building just as Elizabeth is leaving to meet the seller of 33 East 70th at his lawyer’s office. Teddy’s face is ruddy from the cold, his neck covered by a beautiful purple scarf that perfectly complements his gray cashmere coat. He smiles when he sees her. “I think I might be presenting an offer for that four-bedroom at 784 Park,” he tells her.
“The LEX listing?” Elizabeth asks, watching Teddy’s face carefully. He recoils ever so slightly, and his expression tightens.
“That’s the one!” he says, chipper as can be.
He’s cool as a cuke, Elizabeth says to herself. “Well, good luck with it,” she tells him.
“So where are you headed?” Teddy asks her.
“Meeting my seller at 33 East 70th. He’s signing the contract.”
“Wait, who’s buying it again?”
Elizabeth watches his face carefully as she says, “A physician and her husband. Lovely couple.”
Teddy stiffens and says, “Oh . . . right. Well, good. I’ll see you in a bit,” he adds. Elizabeth watches him hurry along, now certain that he knows about the other offer from Roberta Green.
Maxwell Glenn is alone at his lawyer’s office; the lawyer is tied up with an emergency and will be back in half an hour, he tells Elizabeth. Minutes off the plane from France, he is wearing a beautiful pinstripe suit and a red Ferragamo tie with navy anchors. He smiles at Elizabeth and extends his hand cordially. At eighty-eight, he’s cool, unflappable, and dashing. A real gentleman.
“Sit down for a moment,” he says, and when she does, he reaches into a bag and pulls out an orange gift box that she immediately recognizes as Hermès. He hands it to her.
“Oh!!” Elizabeth says. “My favorite—you are the sweetest!”
“Well, just think of it as an early Christmas gift. Please open it.”
The box contains three of her favorite enamel bangles in varying shades of pink. “Oh, they are exquisite,” she tells Mr. Glenn. “Thank you so much.”
“Well, I know that I’ve only agreed to pay you a three percent commission even though this is a direct deal for you, so this is to say a little extra thank-you.”
“I actually have some potentially good news,” Elizabeth tells him. “Another buyer for your apartment has turned up—he’s someone who used to live in the building. He’s offering $300,000 more than the buyers under contract.” She goes on to explain about the man’s financials, his one-year, $800,000 loss, and the fact that he owns lots of middle-income real estate rentals.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Mr. Glenn says. “About the 2008 loss, I mean.”
He shifts around in his seat uneasily and says, “Of course $300,000 is $300,000, but it
’s awfully late in the game, isn’t it? I mean, the buyers have already signed. I’d feel like a bit of a heel, but of course, money is money, isn’t it?”
Elizabeth lets him think about it for a moment; it has to be his decision.
“Well, I’d like to mull it over and discuss it with my wife. Somehow I don’t think I should sign the contract today. I know the buyers are probably expecting it, so why don’t you tell them that I was feeling ill and just needed to get home to Westchester.”
On his way out, he tells the receptionist to let his lawyer know that he couldn’t wait for him, and that he’ll call tomorrow and possibly give him different instructions about the purchase and sale contract.
He and Elizabeth ride the elevator down to the lobby in silence, and before the doors open, Mr. Glenn turns to her. “You’re getting three percent whether or not you represent both ends of the deal, you know.”
“I know.”
“Just wanted to make sure,” he says, leading the way out of the building to where a chauffeur-driven car waits for him.
She’s in a taxi back to the office when Tom calls her. “I think Teddy is suspicious. Violeta said he came in whispering on his cell phone and then went into the conference room.”
“Well, that could mean anything,” Elizabeth says.
Tom tells her that Jeffrey Tabak finally did call back and that he offered to handle things himself for now, and asked Tom for the name of Teddy’s lawyer.
“Then I think we can assume that Teddy’s lawyer has already spoken to Jeffrey and told Teddy what’s going on,” Elizabeth says.
“Probably so,” Tom agrees.
When she arrives back at the office, she immediately looks around for Teddy. “He went out again,” Violeta tells her. “And just so you know, Roberta Green has called you twice.”
Elizabeth sets down her purse. Then she calls LEX and is patched through to Roberta Green.
“Glad we caught up with each other,” Roberta says, though she doesn’t sound particularly friendly. “A slight change of plans here.”
“Oh?”
“Barry Kessler decided he wants to reduce his offer to $9.2 million.”
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