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Authors: Amanda Eyre Ward
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assistant for some more central listings.”
“Okay,” agreed Ben.
“That sounds perfect,” said Betty. “I love it here already!” She reached forward and patted Ben’s hand, then had a second thought, unbuckled her seat belt, lunged, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He looked both stunned and pleased.
By the time we had eaten (egg-white omelet for Betty; migas with extra cheese for Ben; egg, papas, and cheese taco for me), Jonesey had sent a list of addresses to my phone. They ranged in price from one to two million.
As the Hendrixes sipped their coffee, I called Jonesey from a bathroom stall. I explained Ben’s sleek, modern desires and Betty’s fireplace fixation. Jonesey, an elegant gay man in his sixties, sized the Hendrixes up at once. “Oh Lord,” he said, “affair city.”
“Right-o,” I said. “So what do I show them?”
“The guy’s posturing,” said Jonesey. “Show them the condo first. It’s so modern that everyone on the hike-and-bike trail can watch you brushing your teeth. Floor-to-ceiling windows. An aquarium built into the kitchen, plasma screen in the bathroom.”
“Sounds awesome,” I said, thinking of my cluttered apartment, my fat TV with rabbit ears.
“Then hit the five-bedroom in Clarksville. It’s too ye olde colonial for its own good. Three fireplaces, needs work, but it’s a million, and she’ll go low. Lady’s desperate, wants to retire. Window units, for God’s sake.”
“Is she moving to Lakeway?” I asked, naming the town near Austin where many Texans moved after their children left home. Lakeway had golf courses and houses with fishing docks.
“Oh, no, honey,” said Jonesey. “She’s moving to the W downtown.”
“Glamorous,” I said.
“Haul them out to Lakeway before rush hour. Show them a few of the waterfront listings. Then drive back around four-thirty, five. That will give them an understanding of what they’re paying for, living central.”
“Right, Lakeway,” I said.
“What’s your take?” said Jonesey.
“Hmm?”
“What do you think they’ll buy?”
“My guess is a nice two-, three-bedroom close in. Traditional. He says he’s looking for something new and different, but I don’t know …”
“Okay. Drive through Tarrytown next, east of Exposition. The houses are smaller there, a bit cheaper, but still dripping with charm. Then bring them to my place.”
“What?” Jonesey was a notorious homebody who loved cooking every night for his husband, Gil. Gil came from big money, and they shared an amazing colonial in Pemberton Heights.
“Gil’s out of town. What the hell. Invite Gerry, too. We’ll have a little cocktail party. Seven sound good?”
It did. I put on some lipstick and straightened my blazer. I let myself imagine how fantastic a sale would feel. I hadn’t sold anything substantial in a while, just some student crumboxes. If I got a big commission, we could move, or at least buy a new couch. Maybe I could convince Alex to meet me and Gerry somewhere thrilling for a vacation.
I smiled at myself in the mirror and went back to the Hendrixes. We had a big day ahead. I approached the table and felt it immediately: there had been a fight. Ben was red-faced and bristling, and Betty looked gray and deflated. “Ready to go look at some homes?” I asked brightly.
Betty crossed her arms. Ben said, “I think we’ll go back to the hotel for a bit, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course,” I said. They were staying at the Quality Inn all the way back near the airport, but I wasn’t going to hold them captive.
“Honey,” said Betty, not to me.
“There is a condo right on this block,” I fudged. “Quite modern, if you’d like to check it out before we drive back.”
“Let’s do,” said Betty.
“Fine,” said Ben.
“Brunch is my treat!” I said. I left cash on the table, and we walked outside. Surreptitiously, I scanned my listings. There was indeed a condo on the block, but it was a
“Okay,” agreed Ben.
“That sounds perfect,” said Betty. “I love it here already!” She reached forward and patted Ben’s hand, then had a second thought, unbuckled her seat belt, lunged, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He looked both stunned and pleased.
By the time we had eaten (egg-white omelet for Betty; migas with extra cheese for Ben; egg, papas, and cheese taco for me), Jonesey had sent a list of addresses to my phone. They ranged in price from one to two million.
As the Hendrixes sipped their coffee, I called Jonesey from a bathroom stall. I explained Ben’s sleek, modern desires and Betty’s fireplace fixation. Jonesey, an elegant gay man in his sixties, sized the Hendrixes up at once. “Oh Lord,” he said, “affair city.”
“Right-o,” I said. “So what do I show them?”
“The guy’s posturing,” said Jonesey. “Show them the condo first. It’s so modern that everyone on the hike-and-bike trail can watch you brushing your teeth. Floor-to-ceiling windows. An aquarium built into the kitchen, plasma screen in the bathroom.”
“Sounds awesome,” I said, thinking of my cluttered apartment, my fat TV with rabbit ears.
“Then hit the five-bedroom in Clarksville. It’s too ye olde colonial for its own good. Three fireplaces, needs work, but it’s a million, and she’ll go low. Lady’s desperate, wants to retire. Window units, for God’s sake.”
“Is she moving to Lakeway?” I asked, naming the town near Austin where many Texans moved after their children left home. Lakeway had golf courses and houses with fishing docks.
“Oh, no, honey,” said Jonesey. “She’s moving to the W downtown.”
“Glamorous,” I said.
“Haul them out to Lakeway before rush hour. Show them a few of the waterfront listings. Then drive back around four-thirty, five. That will give them an understanding of what they’re paying for, living central.”
“Right, Lakeway,” I said.
“What’s your take?” said Jonesey.
“Hmm?”
“What do you think they’ll buy?”
“My guess is a nice two-, three-bedroom close in. Traditional. He says he’s looking for something new and different, but I don’t know …”
“Okay. Drive through Tarrytown next, east of Exposition. The houses are smaller there, a bit cheaper, but still dripping with charm. Then bring them to my place.”
“What?” Jonesey was a notorious homebody who loved cooking every night for his husband, Gil. Gil came from big money, and they shared an amazing colonial in Pemberton Heights.
“Gil’s out of town. What the hell. Invite Gerry, too. We’ll have a little cocktail party. Seven sound good?”
It did. I put on some lipstick and straightened my blazer. I let myself imagine how fantastic a sale would feel. I hadn’t sold anything substantial in a while, just some student crumboxes. If I got a big commission, we could move, or at least buy a new couch. Maybe I could convince Alex to meet me and Gerry somewhere thrilling for a vacation.
I smiled at myself in the mirror and went back to the Hendrixes. We had a big day ahead. I approached the table and felt it immediately: there had been a fight. Ben was red-faced and bristling, and Betty looked gray and deflated. “Ready to go look at some homes?” I asked brightly.
Betty crossed her arms. Ben said, “I think we’ll go back to the hotel for a bit, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course,” I said. They were staying at the Quality Inn all the way back near the airport, but I wasn’t going to hold them captive.
“Honey,” said Betty, not to me.
“There is a condo right on this block,” I fudged. “Quite modern, if you’d like to check it out before we drive back.”
“Let’s do,” said Betty.
“Fine,” said Ben.
“Brunch is my treat!” I said. I left cash on the table, and we walked outside. Surreptitiously, I scanned my listings. There was indeed a condo on the block, but it was a
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