Read Online All Through The House by Janice Kay Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
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the
two debacles. Could she? Abigail took a deep breath. "If you can possibly
put off showing the house for a couple of days, it would be a good idea. As I
mentioned in the write-up, the owner has completely remodeled, but
unfortunately the storm last week showed up a couple of leaks in the roof. He
promises to have the problem cleared up immediately, but.…"
"I don't want to have to explain leaks in the
roof," the other agent agreed. "I'll do that. Tell me, is there any
chance of the owner carrying part of the contract?"
Abigail explained that Mr. Phillips was willing, providing
certain conditions were met. At the end of the conversation, just as they were
about to hang up, Susan Richards said, "Oh, by the way, I see there's a
renter in the house. I don't suppose you know if he has cats, or whether the
last owner did?"
Startled, Abigail said, "Well, I don't remember seeing
any, but I'm not sure. Perhaps you'd better ask him."
"My client is asthmatic. She can hardly stand even to
look at a cat, apparently. If there've been any living in the house recently,
it wouldn't do for her. Well, thanks for your help. I'll let you know how it
goes."
For the second time, Abigail hung up the telephone in a
pensive mood. She forced herself to put reluctant words to her uneasiness. This
would be a litmus test. If another agent showed the house with no problem, no
unusual problem....
What? Should she apologize to Nate? Gee, I'm sorry I thought
for even a moment that you might be sabotaging the house's sale?
Ridiculous. Of course, he wasn't. The two unfortunate
showings had been just that. These things happened. She wouldn't be sulking over
it if the Irving House were a hundred and fifty-thousand-dollar rambler that
she got a dozen calls a week about. The trouble was, she might not have another
shot at showing it to a client who could qualify for a million-dollar plus
house. She'd had more calls since her first ad, but none from serious lookers.
There were too many people whose favorite Sunday recreation was reading the
real-estate pages of their morning papers, then calling about ads or wandering
through open houses because they thought it might be fun.
She was being greedy to wish for both the listing and the
selling halves of the commission. The object was to find a buyer for the house;
who the actual selling agent was wouldn't matter to Ed Phillips. He would be
happy with the job McLeod and James had done. Abigail was beginning to think it
might be just as well if she didn't show it again, her emotions toward the
house were becoming so mixed. Partly thanks to its renter.
Who had promised to call, and hadn't.
*****
"Well, we're ready to go now," John said.
The two men stared at the muddy hillside. The hundred acres
had been ruthlessly clear-cut, the cleanup not completed. The previous owner
was responsible for burning the slash and putting in a road, neither of which
had yet been accomplished. Right now it took a little imagination to see the
site as John and Nate intended it to be, a sensitively planned development of
fine homes on two-and-a-half-acre lots.
The view of the Cascade Mountains was spectacular. On a
whim, Nate had camped out here one night before the logging and awakened to the
dawn painting the sky with colors no human artist had ever touched. Now,
however….
He shook his head. "I didn't picture it so
stripped."
John shrugged massive shoulders. "Stripping is what
some of the cut-rate developers do. Looks like the moon by the time they're
done. Hard-pan and rocks. We've got some topsoil here, anyway."
Hard-pan and rocks. That'd been one of Nate's complaints
about Ed Phillips. He'd scraped building lots down to hard-pan and sold the
topsoil. He had laughed about the idea of young homeowners buying their own
dirt back again.
This development was to be everything Phillips's hadn't
been. Except that now the city had decided to have a moratorium on hook ups to
the overloaded sewer system. Permits were
two debacles. Could she? Abigail took a deep breath. "If you can possibly
put off showing the house for a couple of days, it would be a good idea. As I
mentioned in the write-up, the owner has completely remodeled, but
unfortunately the storm last week showed up a couple of leaks in the roof. He
promises to have the problem cleared up immediately, but.…"
"I don't want to have to explain leaks in the
roof," the other agent agreed. "I'll do that. Tell me, is there any
chance of the owner carrying part of the contract?"
Abigail explained that Mr. Phillips was willing, providing
certain conditions were met. At the end of the conversation, just as they were
about to hang up, Susan Richards said, "Oh, by the way, I see there's a
renter in the house. I don't suppose you know if he has cats, or whether the
last owner did?"
Startled, Abigail said, "Well, I don't remember seeing
any, but I'm not sure. Perhaps you'd better ask him."
"My client is asthmatic. She can hardly stand even to
look at a cat, apparently. If there've been any living in the house recently,
it wouldn't do for her. Well, thanks for your help. I'll let you know how it
goes."
For the second time, Abigail hung up the telephone in a
pensive mood. She forced herself to put reluctant words to her uneasiness. This
would be a litmus test. If another agent showed the house with no problem, no
unusual problem....
What? Should she apologize to Nate? Gee, I'm sorry I thought
for even a moment that you might be sabotaging the house's sale?
Ridiculous. Of course, he wasn't. The two unfortunate
showings had been just that. These things happened. She wouldn't be sulking over
it if the Irving House were a hundred and fifty-thousand-dollar rambler that
she got a dozen calls a week about. The trouble was, she might not have another
shot at showing it to a client who could qualify for a million-dollar plus
house. She'd had more calls since her first ad, but none from serious lookers.
There were too many people whose favorite Sunday recreation was reading the
real-estate pages of their morning papers, then calling about ads or wandering
through open houses because they thought it might be fun.
She was being greedy to wish for both the listing and the
selling halves of the commission. The object was to find a buyer for the house;
who the actual selling agent was wouldn't matter to Ed Phillips. He would be
happy with the job McLeod and James had done. Abigail was beginning to think it
might be just as well if she didn't show it again, her emotions toward the
house were becoming so mixed. Partly thanks to its renter.
Who had promised to call, and hadn't.
*****
"Well, we're ready to go now," John said.
The two men stared at the muddy hillside. The hundred acres
had been ruthlessly clear-cut, the cleanup not completed. The previous owner
was responsible for burning the slash and putting in a road, neither of which
had yet been accomplished. Right now it took a little imagination to see the
site as John and Nate intended it to be, a sensitively planned development of
fine homes on two-and-a-half-acre lots.
The view of the Cascade Mountains was spectacular. On a
whim, Nate had camped out here one night before the logging and awakened to the
dawn painting the sky with colors no human artist had ever touched. Now,
however….
He shook his head. "I didn't picture it so
stripped."
John shrugged massive shoulders. "Stripping is what
some of the cut-rate developers do. Looks like the moon by the time they're
done. Hard-pan and rocks. We've got some topsoil here, anyway."
Hard-pan and rocks. That'd been one of Nate's complaints
about Ed Phillips. He'd scraped building lots down to hard-pan and sold the
topsoil. He had laughed about the idea of young homeowners buying their own
dirt back again.
This development was to be everything Phillips's hadn't
been. Except that now the city had decided to have a moratorium on hook ups to
the overloaded sewer system. Permits were
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