The Dream Comes True

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Pink slips are on your desk,” was the receptionist’s reply.

  Depositing her bag, Nina snatched them up, glanced through even as she rearranged them in order of importance, then settled into her chair and reached for the phone. The first and most urgent call was from a lawyer whose client was to pass papers on a piece of property that morning. At his request, the meeting was put off for an hour, which meant that Nina had to shift two other appointments. Then she returned calls to a seller with a decision on pricing, an accountant trying to negotiate his way into prime business space and a potential buyer who had heard a rumor that the price of the house she was waiting for was about to drop.

  Nina was on the phone chasing down that rumor when a young woman appeared at her door. Lee Stockland, with her frizzy brown hair, her conservative skirts, blouses and single strand of pearls, and the ten extra pounds she’d been trying to lose forever, was a colleague. She was also a good friend, one of the best Nina had. Their personalities complemented each other.

  Nina waved her in, then held up a finger and spoke into the phone.

  “Charlie Dunn, please.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Dunn’s not in the office.”

  “This is Nina Stone at Crown Realty. It’s urgent that I speak with him.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll be here for another forty-five minutes. If he comes in during that time, would you have him call me?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up and turned to Lee. “Maisie Stewart heard that 23 Hammond dropped to eight-fifty.” She swiveled in her chair. “It wasn’t in the computer last night. Have you seen anything today?”

  “Nope.”

  Nina brought up the proper screen, punched in the listing she wanted and saw that Lee was right. She sat back in her chair. “If word of mouth beat this computer, I’ll be furious. Charlie knows the rules. Any change is supposed to be entered here.”

  “Charlie isn’t exactly a computer person.”

  Nina tossed a glance skyward. “Do tell. He claims you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I don’t agree with that for a minute. What you make up your mind to do, you do.” With barely a breath, she said, “So, what did the Millers think of the house?”

  Lee took the chair by Nina’s desk. “They weren’t thrilled to see me rather than you, but I think they liked it. Especially her, and that’s what counts.”

  Nina nodded. “I know him. He’ll see every little flaw and be tallying up how much it will cost to fix each one. Then he’ll balance the amount against the price of the house and go back and forth, back and forth until someone else’s bid is accepted and it’s too late. Then we’ll start right back at the beginning again.” She sighed, suddenly sheepish, and fiddled with her earring. “Thanks, Lee. Jason is a pain in the butt. I really appreciate your taking them out.”

  “You appreciate it?” Lee laughed. “I’m the one who appreciates it. If it weren’t for the clients you give me, I’d be twiddling my thumbs all day.”

  Nina couldn’t argue with that. As brokers went, Lee was an able technician. Given a client, she did fine. But she didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘hustle,’ and hustling was the name of the game. Nina hustled. When she wasn’t showing a potential buyer a piece of property, she was meeting with a seller, or phoning potential others with offers of appraisals, or organizing mailings to keep her name and her business in the forefront of the community’s mind.

  Lee didn’t have the drive for that, and while once upon a time Nina had scolded her friend, she didn’t any longer. Lee was perfectly happy to work less, to earn less, in essence to serve as Nina’s assistant, and Nina was grateful for the help. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “The Millers insisted on going early this morning. I couldn’t be two places at once.”

  “Speaking of which,” she gave a pointed look at Nina’s bright red linen dress, “I take it that’s your power outfit. How did it go at the bank?”

  Nina’s mouth drew down at the corners. “Don’t ask.”

  “Not good?”

  “Slow. Sl-ow.” She began to pull folders from her bag. “Let me tell you, working with so many people is a real hassle. To get one decision made is a major ordeal.”

  “Did they like the brochure?”

  “I think so, but I never got a final judgment on it, because they got hung up discussing the pricing of the units.”

  “What did they decide on that?”

  Nina’s phone buzzed. “Nothing,” she cried, letting her frustration show. “They want me to meet with this one guy—” She picked up the phone. “Nina Stone.”

  “Ms. Stone, my name is Carl Anderson. I was given your name by Peter Serretti, who worked with you on your new computer system.”

  Nina remembered Peter clearly. He had indeed worked with her, far more closely than she had wanted. Long after she learned to operate the system, she’d been plagued by phone calls from Peter asking her out. So now his friend was calling. She was immediately on her guard.

  “Of course, I remember Mr. Serretti. What can I do for you, Mr. Anderson?”

  “I’m actually calling from New York. My wife and I are both in education. We’ll be moving to Boston in August. We were thinking of buying something on the North Shore. Pete said you were the one to talk with.”

  Nina felt an immediate lightening of her mood. “I’m sure I am,” she said with a smile for Lee, who had settled into her chair to wait. “What kind of place are you looking for?”

  “A condo. Two to three bedrooms. We have no children, but have a dog and two cars.”

  Nina was making notes. “Price range?”

  “Two-fifty, three hundred tops.” He rushed on apologetically. “We just can’t handle anything more than that. When we visited Pete, we were impressed with the North Shore. If I’m totally out of my league, tell me.”

  “You’re not, not at all.” Crosslyn Rise was out of the question, both in terms of price and availability, but there were other options. “There’s an older three-bedroom condo on the market for two-ninety-five, and several more updated two-bedrooms in the same range. But there’s a new complex that you should probably see. It’s in Salem, near the harbor, and it’s beautiful. About half of the units have been sold, but there are still some wonderful three-bedroom ones that would fall within your range.” She described the units, at times reading directly from the promotional packet that Lee had smoothly slipped her.

  Carl seemed pleased. “We thought we’d drive up Friday and spend Saturday and Sunday looking. Would that be all right?”

  “Uh, unfortunately, I’ll be at a seminar all weekend—” her eyes met Lee’s “—but one of my associates could certainly show you as much as you’d like to see.” She frowned when, with a helpless look, Lee gave a quick shake of her head.

  “Pete recommended you,” Carl insisted. “He said you knew what you were talking about. I had an awful time with a broker here when we bought the place we’re in now. She messed up the Purchase and Sales agreement, and we nearly lost the place.”

  Nina loved hearing stories like that. “I don’t mess up Purchase and Sales agreements.”

  “That’s what Pete said.”

  “Is this weekend the only time you can come?”

  “This is the only weekend my wife and I are both free.”

  “Then let me suggest this. I’ll go through all the listings, come up with everything I think might be worth seeing, and my associate will do the showing.” Lee was still looking helpless. “You and I can talk first thing Monday morning when I’m back in the office. I’ll be able to handle things from there.”

  Carl Anderson seemed satisfied with that. After taking note of his address and phone number, plus additional information regarding what he wanted, Nina hung up the phone. Her eyes quickly met Lee’s. “Problem?”

  “I can’t work this weekend,” Lee said timidly.

  “Oh, Lee. You said you could. I’ve been counting on you to cover for me while I’m away.”

&n
bsp; “I can for Thursday and Friday, but—” she hesitated for a split second before blurting out “—Tom wants to go to the Vineyard. I’ve never been to the Vineyard. He’s already made reservations for the ferry and the hotel, and he’s talking about lying on the beach and browsing through the shops and eating at terrific restaurants—” She caught her breath and let out a soft, “How could I say no?”

  Nina felt a surge of frustration that had nothing to do with work. “You can’t. You never can, to Tom. But it’s always last minute to a dinner or a movie or a weekend away. Why doesn’t he call sooner?”

  “He just doesn’t plan his life that way. He likes spontaneity.”

  “Baloney. He just can’t make any kind of commitment. He goes here, goes there, calls you when he gets the urge. He uses you, Lee.”

  “But I like him.”

  “You’re too good for him.”

  “I’m not,” Lee said flatly. “I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve never been married. I’m not cute like you, or petite, or blue eyed. I can’t wear clothes like you do or polish my nails like you do. I’m not aggressive, and I’ll never earn much money, so I’m not much of a bargain. But Tom is good to me.”

  Nina died a little inside. Each time she heard a woman use those words, no matter how innocent they were, she thought of her mother. So many times Maria Stone had said the same—but he’s good to me—and for all the men who’d been “good” to her, she had ended up with nothing. Nina ached at the thought of that happening again, particularly to someone she cared about, like Lee.

  Coming forward on the desk, she said with force, “You’re not a lost cause, Lee. You’re attractive and smart and warm. You’re the one who taught me how to cook, and arrange flowers, and save bundles by shopping in the stores you found. You have lots to offer a man, lots more than me. You don’t need to stoop to the level of a Tom Brody. If you want male company, there are plenty of other men around.”

  “Fine for you to say. You attract them like flies, then you swat them away.”

  “I do not.”

  “You’re not interested in a relationship.”

  “I’m not interested in marriage, and I’m not interested in being kept, but I date. If an interesting guy comes along and asks me to dinner, I go.”

  “When you have time.”

  “Is there anything wrong with that?” Nina asked more gently. They’d had the discussion before. “Work means a lot to me. It’s my future. At this point in my life, the investment I make in it means a whole lot more than the investment I might make in a man.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Heaven only knows the return stands to be better.”

  Lee heard the low muttering and sighed. “Speak for yourself. Those of us who aren’t so independent are looking all over for Mr. Right, but I think all the Mr. Rights are taken.”

  “Just wait. Give all those Mr. Rights a chance to divorce their first wives, then they’ll be yours for the taking. I’m told they’re far better husbands the second time around.”

  “I want Tom first. I think I have a chance with him, Nina. I really do.”

  But Nina knew more about Tom Brody than she let on. She had seen him in action against her boss years before, when he’d tried to renege on an agreement that was signed and sealed. “He’s not right for you, Lee. He’s a huckster with his eye out for the fast lane. When he hooks onto it, he’ll be long gone. What you need is someone softer, slower, less driven.” The image that popped unbidden into her mind made her snort. “You need a guy like John Sawyer.”

  “Who’s John Sawyer?”

  “A member of my consortium. He’s invested in the Rise, but he’s not a businessman, at least, not in the strictest sense of the word. He sells books. He’s a thinker.”

  Lee arched an interested brow. “Married?”

  “His wife died. He has a little boy who’s four.”

  Lee’s interest waned. “Oh. I’m no good with kids. I don’t think I want to get into that. Forget John Sawyer.”

  Nina’s thoughts flipped back to the meeting earlier that morning, then ahead to the one to come later that night. “I wish I could. The man might prove to be the biggest thorn in my side since Throckmorton Malone.” Throckmorton Malone was a perennial house-shopper. He found a house he liked, put down a deposit, started bickering with either the builder or the owner or the owner’s agent about the smallest, most insignificant details, then pulled out of the deal after handfuls of others who might have been interested had been turned away.

  “No one could be that big a thorn.”

  Nina sighed. “Maybe. Still, this one could give me gray hair. He thinks we’re pricing the units too high. He thinks he knows the market. Worst of all, the rest of the group thinks he knows what he’s talking about, so they’re making me meet separately with him to try to come to some sort of compromise.”

  “That’s not so bad. You can convince him to see things your way.”

  “Yeah, but he’s so—” she made a face as she searched for the word, finally exploding into a scornful “—blah. He’s so calm and casual and unhurried about everything. He has all the time in the world to mull over every little thing. What ought to take five minutes will take fifty with him. Just looking at him frustrates me.”

  Lee showed a hint of renewed interest. “He’s good-looking?”

  “Not to my way of thinking. He’s too bookish. I mean, we’re talking thin and pale. Drab. Boring.”

  “Is he tall?”

  Nina had to think about that, then think some more. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Funny, I’ve never really noticed. He’s that kind of guy, blink and you miss him.” She frowned. “Mostly when I see him he’s sitting down. Everyone else get up to leave, he stays in his seat. He doesn’t move quickly. Ever.” She sighed. “And I have to meet with him at nine o’clock tonight. Who knows how long he’ll drag out the meeting.” She grimaced. “Could be he’ll put me to sleep.”

  “That’d be novel.” They both knew Nina rarely slept. She had too much energy to slow down for long.

  With a glance at her watch, Nina was out of her chair. “I’m meeting with the Selwyns at the Traynor cape in five minutes. Gotta run.”

  “About this weekend—” Lee began.

  “Not to worry,” Nina assured her. Taking a file from the corner of the desk, she slipped it into her bag. “I’ll get someone else to cover.”

  “I’m really sorry. I hate letting you down.”

  Turning to her, Nina said in earnest, “You’re not letting me down, at least not about filling in here. You have a right to a life, and if you haven’t been to the Vineyard, you have to go. I just wish you weren’t going with Tom.”

  “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “Famous last words,” Nina said softly, gave Lee a last pleading look, then murmured, “Gotta run.”

  2

  Nina’s day was busy enough to prevent her from giving the impending meeting with John much thought until she returned to her office at seven, with all other appointments behind her and two hours to fill before nine. Filling them wasn’t the problem. She had more than enough paperwork to do, and if she finished that, there were phone calls to make. But the urgency wasn’t the same as it would have been at the height of the workday. So her mind wandered.

  She thought about Crosslyn Rise, and how pretty the first of the units, nestled in among trees at the duck pond, were beginning to look. She thought about the brochure she had so painstakingly put together with the artist who’d drawn pictures of the Rise, and the printer, and the fact that she felt it should already be in circulation. She thought about the pricing, the arguments both ways, her own conviction and John’s. She thought about his slow, slow way of thinking and talking and her own preference for working more quickly. The more she thought about those things, the more frustrated she grew. By the time she finally got into her car and drove to The Leaf Turner, she was spoiling for a fight.

  The house stood close to the center of town and was a small white Victorian,
set in relief against the night by the glow of a street lamp that stood nearby. The second floor was dark, the first floor lit. Walking to the front door as though it were the middle of the day and she were out shopping for a book, she turned the brass knob and let herself in.

  “Hello?” she called, closing the door behind her. When there was no response, she called again, in a more commanding tone this time, “Hello?”

  “Be right there,” came a distant voice, followed after a time by the leisurely pad of rubber-soled shoes on the back stairs, which was followed, in turn, by John’s appearance. At least, it was the appearance of someone she assumed to be John. His face was partially hidden behind the carton he was carrying, a carton that looked to be heavy from the way he carefully lowered it to the ground. When he straightened, he looked her in the eye and said in that slow, quiet way of his, “You’re right on time.”

  For a minute, she didn’t speak. The man who had emerged from behind the carton had John’s voice and features, but that was the extent of the similarity to the man with whom she served on the Crosslyn Rise consortium. This John’s face wasn’t pale, but flushed with activity and shadowed with a distinct end-of-the-day beard. This John’s face slightly shaggy brown hair was clustered into spikes on his forehead, which glistened with sweat. As she watched, he mopped a trickle of that sweat from his temple, displaying a forearm that was leanly muscular and spattered with hair.

  “I aim to please,” she said lightly, but she couldn’t take her eyes from him.

  This time he ran the back of his hand over his upper lip. “I’m short of space up here, so the courier service puts deliveries in the basement. I’ve been carting books around, trying to get things organized. If I’d realized I was going to build up a sweat, I’d have showered and changed.”

  “No problem.” She was still wearing the red dress she’d had on since dawn. “It’s the end of the day. Besides,” she added in an attempt to set the tone for their meeting, “we won’t be long enough to make it worth the effort. I’m sure we can hash out our differences in no time.”