by Laura Wolfe
I sat still and listened. I’d never thought of it like that, but of course, it made sense.
“Anyway, make the calls to the building inspector. We’ll give it a few days for the violations to get back to the owners, and then I’ll call them with my guy’s offer.”
I nodded and pulled out my notes, along with the phone number of the building inspector, as Jacqueline packed up her laptop.
“I have a few more things you can do for me,” she said.
“Okay.”
“First, I have a stack of listings for you to input ASAP.” She picked up a pile of folders and set them on my desk. “Tomorrow at 1:00 p.m., I need you to meet a painter at my condo and open the door for him. The renovations never end!” she said.
I remembered her stories of the many updates she was having done to her townhome to get rid of the 90’s décor and restore its Victorian character. She handed me a key attached to a silver key ring. A small, round pendant dangled from the ring and pictured a cartoon cow with the words, ‘On the moo-ve!’ encircling the cow’s head. Her address was written on the backside of the medallion—1934 N. Lincoln.
My eyes lingered on the keychain, and I fought to stifle a laugh. I hoped she’d tell me about her cow obsession, but she only cleared her throat.
“Also, tonight is the CBR charity dinner at Germania Place. I’m a speaker. I bought an extra ticket for you so that you can sit at my table. It’s good to get out there and be seen. I’ll pick you up at 6:15 at your condo. Wear a dress.” She looked me up and down. “Something classy.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I squeezed my pen as I envisioned the five dresses hanging in my closet and wondered whether any of them were classy enough for Jacqueline. Ideally, I would have liked more notice, but I didn’t have any plans. And free dinner and drinks at Germania Place sounded good.
“Tomorrow morning, we’re going to drive over to a potential new listing in the South Loop. Be here by 9:00 at the latest.”
“Okay,” I said, entering the appointments into my phone while she talked.
“On Sunday, I’ll need you to host an open house for me in Old Irving from 1:00 to 3:00, but meet me here by 12:30.”
“No problem.” I bit back my smile. There was a windfall of potential commissions coming my way.
“I also emailed you a list of things to do by tomorrow.” She rested a bony hip against her desk as she watched the front door. “My friend, Haley, is coming by to pick me up for lunch, but I’ll be back later.”
“Okay. Are you going to the ‘Best Practices’ meeting at 2:00?”
Jacqueline tipped her head forward, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Then she stepped closer and leaned toward me.
“Oh, Mara. Don’t waste your time with all these stupid Greystone meetings. ‘Best practices’ are for people who can’t think for themselves. Common sense is the best practice.” She waved her hand toward the back of the office. “None of these people have any, so they need to create pointless meetings to make themselves feel useful.” Jacqueline’s eyes tightened on me like screws turning. “We’re not like them.”
I looked from the pile of files on my desk into her steely eyes and nodded. She was right. No point wasting my time.
“Oh, there she is.” Jacqueline raised her arm in a wave as another woman about her age, but with curly dark hair and cheerful eyes strode through the door. The woman smiled as she bounded toward us, giving Jacqueline a quick hug when she arrived at our desks.
“Haley, this is my new assistant, Mara. Mara, this is Haley, my only friend from law school.” Both women chuckled as Haley shook my hand.
“So, you’re Peter’s replacement?” Haley asked.
“Yeah.”
Haley closed her eyes and grimaced. “I’m so glad you got rid of that guy, Jackie. I don’t think I could stand hearing any more of your complaints.”
Jacqueline eyed me. “Mara is shaping up to be a much better assistant.”
I stretched up a little taller and tried not to blush.
Jacqueline flashed a curious look at Haley. “So, what’s the big news?”
“You’ll never guess what happened.” Haley fluttered her eyelids and shook her head. She leaned toward us and whispered, “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes were round as saucers, and a smile revealed itself in the corners of her mouth.
“What?” Jacqueline slapped her hands down on the desk. “Oh, my God! That’s great!”
“Congratulations,” I said, feeling like a third-wheel.
“It wasn’t planned,” Haley said, still whispering. “I mean, I have no idea how it happened because I was on the pill. I swear I never forgot to take it. Thankfully, Rob is on board. We’re going to move in together.”
“In your studio?” Jacqueline’s eyebrows lifted.
I peered toward the marketing room, devising a way to remove myself from the private conversation. They continued talking as if I wasn’t there.
“No. Could you imagine all three of us in a studio?” Haley laughed. “That’s kind of why I wanted to meet with you. I need you to list my condo and help me and Rob find a bigger place. Maybe a little farther north or west. Something with two bedrooms.” Haley glanced at me and then back to Jacqueline. “Rob keeps talking about a friend of his who can find us a place, but I told him we’re using you. You’ve always been there for me, Jackie.”
“I’d love to work with you again. We shouldn’t have any problem selling your condo. It’s such a great location.” Jacqueline’s mouth curved downward. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to stay there longer.”
“Yeah, but things happen for a reason. It’s time I move on with my life.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I’d love to start looking at places as soon as possible. Even tonight, if you’re available.”
“I can’t do it tonight. I’m speaking at a charity dinner at Germania Place.”
Haley rolled her eyes. “Look at you, big shot.”
“I can meet on Saturday afternoon to list your studio. I’ll bring some comps, and I’ll set you up on an automatic search for a new property.”
“Sounds perfect.” She elbowed Jacqueline. “Hey, there’s a new guy at the office. He’s really cute. And single.”
“Not interested,” Jacqueline said.
Haley narrowed her eyes. “Jackie, you can’t pine after Jeffery forever. He’s an ocean away. So what if you go out on a couple of dates with someone else?”
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t have time for a new relationship right now. I’m one hundred percent focused on work.”
“That’s probably not healthy. You should take a break once in a while. Our weekly lunch meetings don’t count.”
“I have a shot at becoming Top Producer this year. Of the whole city. Right, Mara?” Jacqueline glanced toward me.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
Jacqueline crossed her arms. “That’s worth more than any guy to me.”
“And no doubt you’ll succeed,” Haley said. “Your perfectionism is frustrating.”
“I need to beat out Natalia Romanov first.”
Haley shook her head. “I drive by her billboard downtown every day. Isn’t she trying to sell that building on Michigan Avenue? It’s a few doors down from my office.”
“Natalia has lots of buildings for sale,” Jacqueline said, staring straight ahead as she spoke.
Haley picked a speck of lint off her sweater. “I heard she might be starring in a new reality show on HGTV or Bravo, or something like that. At least, that’s what one of the receptionists in my office said.”
My teeth clamped down on the inside of my cheek. There was no way Jacqueline could compete with a realtor who had her own TV show.
I could tell by the way Jacqueline’s mouth froze that this was the first she’d heard of Natalia’s reality show. She rolled back her shoulders, making herself taller. “I don’t know about any TV show, but, supposedly, Natalia has connections to the Russian mob
.”
Haley’s eyes popped wide open. “The mob? Jackie, you better be careful. That’s not something to mess around with.”
“Really?” My heart thumped against my ribcage. I hadn’t heard of Natalia’s mob connections before.
Jacqueline stuck out her chin. “Don’t worry. I’m simply going to sell more real estate than her. There’s nothing the mob can do about that.”
Haley placed a hand on her hip. “Just be careful. There are lots of sketchy people out there.”
“Gee. Thanks for the warning, ambulance-chasing attorney.” Jacqueline made a face as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you later, Mara. Haley and I are headed out for lunch.”
“Have fun.”
The two women walked side-by-side past the front desk, Jacqueline striding ahead to hold the door open for her pregnant friend, and the tension in my shoulders inexplicably easing with each step she took away from me.
15
I’d never been inside Germania Place before. The historic building carved from massive red boulders looked impenetrable as if it was hiding government secrets. Arched windows resembled giant, watchful eyes and cut into the stone at evenly spaced intervals. The inside was even more impressive. Dark wooden beams crisscrossed the lofted ceiling and chandeliers dangled from sculpted plaster medallions. It was the kind of room that made me forget to breathe. The guests gave off an aura of confidence possessed by people who swam in money. They showed off their tailored clothes and sparkling jewelry, their chins held high and laughter bellowing from their lungs a little too forcefully.
I’d taken advantage of the free vodka and tonics during cocktail hour. Now, enjoying the hazy afterglow of top-shelf alcohol, I’d settled into my assigned seat at a white-clothed table listening to Jacqueline give a speech about real estate and helping people. She knew her stuff about both of those subjects. She’d gone above and beyond in helping me, even by inviting me to this dinner. And I still couldn’t get over the charity run she was planning for Emma. After what I’d been through in the last month, it was about time luck landed on my side. If it weren’t for Jacqueline, I’d be slumped on the couch watching bad TV while Astro destroyed another piece of my furniture. Instead, I was basking under the glow of chandeliers in the grand ballroom at Germania Place, and I’d soon be representing Grace in the purchase of her new condo.
I shifted in my chair as my lungs pulled in a strained breath. The Spanx I wore beneath my cocktail dress squeezed against my midsection. My hand reached for the crystal water glass in front of me, my eyes avoiding the others at the table. Fake it ‘til you make it. I’d heard that somewhere once. I took a sip.
My bare shoulder raised to push the spaghetti strap of my dress higher, but it slid back down. I twisted to the side, discreetly positioning my strapless bra in a more stable location. It had been months since I’d worn a dress, and despite the minor wardrobe issues, I felt sophisticated.
Jacqueline’s voice descended across the airy room like an eagle swooping off a skyscraper. Her silky dress skimmed the long lines of her body, and I would have bet the remaining money in my bank account that she wasn’t wearing any Spanx. She’d been speaking for at least fifteen minutes already, her speech wrapping up. Her gaze wandered from face to face, as she made eye contact with the most important players. The mayor was on display at the front table, next to the president of the Chicago Board of Realtors. The city’s most successful realtors, developers, and their significant others filled most of the other tables. Jacqueline’s voice projected as she connected the dots between helping people and selling real estate for the tipsy audience.
“I help people every day,” she said. “After a divorce, I help a distraught spouse pick up the pieces and start fresh. I’ve had the honor of helping a young couple find the perfect starter home to begin their lives together. And my dream is to one day assist people who sit homeless on the streets tonight in purchasing their first homes. This can happen with the ‘set aside’ programs instituted by the city and with many developers building affordable housing.”
I swallowed and glanced toward the windows, remembering the way Jacqueline had rebuffed Tony for sitting outside the office the other day. Maybe I’d misunderstood her. Maybe she’d only wanted to help him get off the streets.
Jacqueline’s voice continued to soar through the room. “With all of us working together, we can make the American dream a reality, one house at a time. Thank you.”
She exited the podium to a chorus of thunderous applause. Jacqueline’s heels clicked on the wooden floor and echoed across the ballroom until she arrived back to the seat next to mine. On her other side sat Roger Burton, the owner of Burton Development, one of Chicago’s largest development companies. Roger’s wife, Lydia, sat in the seat to Jacqueline’s right, separating Jacqueline and her husband.
I smiled at Jacqueline. “Good job!”
“Well done, Jacqueline,” said Lydia, dipping her chin with approval.
Roger scowled and looked away, his cropped, dark hair mismatched with his salt-and-pepper goatee.
The MC announced there would be a break in the speeches until after dinner, when the headliners, Natalia Romanov, and the mayor, would take the podium. Jacqueline’s face hardened at the mention of Natalia’s name.
“I can never get over the exquisite architecture of this building.” Lydia waved her hand toward one of the oversized arched windows that lined the room.
Jacqueline slid her napkin to the side. “This building has such an interesting history.”
“It was built by German immigrants, wasn’t it?” asked Lydia.
“A German singing society in 1888. The acoustics are better than in any modern concert hall.”
“So much history in this city. Have you ever taken the architectural cruise down the Chicago River? Roger and I did that last summer. So fascinating.”
Lydia and Jacqueline slipped into easy conversation after discovering their shared interest in Chicago’s architecture. They discussed their favorite buildings and reminded each other of the stories behind them while I sat with a dumb smile.
Still, I was lucky to be by Jacqueline’s side. I’d learned so much just by watching her. I never knew building inspectors existed, much less that violations could reduce a building’s perceived value. Jacqueline made it look so easy—locate potential buildings, report the violations, wait a few days for the owners to receive news of the violations, and then contact the owners and tell them we have an interested buyer. There was no need for them to correct the defects. The buyer would take the problems off their hands. My head buzzed, light and fuzzy, just thinking about the simple brilliance of it.
Jacqueline reached inside her purse and huffed. She leaned toward me, the vanilla and citrus notes of her perfume sweetening the air.
“Mara, can you run out to my car and get my card holder for me? It’s in the front seat console.” She handed me the valet ticket.
“Yeah. Of course.” I took the ticket out of her hand and slipped away from the table, grabbing my cardigan and trying not to twist my ankles in the three-inch heels I’d borrowed from Grace.
Down the hall, a red-vested valet leaned against a mahogany wall near the front door.
“I’m not leaving,” I said, handing him the ticket. “I just need to get something out of the car.”
“It’s parked right out front.” The valet passed me the keys and pointed down the street where the shadowy outline of the Mercedes reflected under the light of the streetlamps. It was parked between an Audi and a Tesla about halfway down the block.
“Thanks.” Keys in hand, I wrapped my cardigan around me and entered the crisp night air. I placed my feet carefully as I descended the steps, then checked my surroundings before continuing down the sidewalk. My fingers fidgeted with the key fob as I approached the back of Jacqueline’s car. With one last twirl around my index finger, the keys slipped from my grip. I snatched them from the mid-air, but fumbled, my senses dulled from too much alcohol
. With a second effort, I saved the keys before they hit the ground but accidentally hit the bottom button on the key fob in the process.
A dull hiss of air escaped from the trunk of Jacqueline’s car as it popped open. An object caught my eye through the sliver of an opening, a twinge of familiarity searing through me. It was a flash of neon orange I would have ignored, except I’d seen the exact same color this morning—three times on the sides of the buildings. Stepping forward, I swung the trunk door up higher, and a thousand pin picks rippled over my body. Under the spotlight of the streetlamp, an open cardboard box lay in plain sight with two cans of spray paint inside it. Orange and purple.
My mind spun, the lightness in my head snuffed out by the shadowy items lying before me. Was it a coincidence? Maybe Jacqueline was using the paint for some sort of project. It was ordinary spray paint anyone could buy at Home Depot. Hundreds, or even thousands, of people probably owned those identical colors for one reason or another. My mind struggled to explain it away, but my nausea swirled in a circle, rising higher. The odds of her having the same colors of paint in her car were too small to be a coincidence. The neon orange matched the shade of the six-pointed stars, and the bright purple matched the pitchforks. Drops of paint dripped down the sides of the white cans. They’d been used.
I thought back to my first meeting with Jacqueline, and the rats that had run through Bistro Maria. Sometimes you have to make your own business. That’s what she’d said. Is this what she’d meant? A folding in my gut knew Jacqueline was behind the gang tags. And maybe the rats. I couldn’t imagine her getting her hands dirty, though. She must have paid someone else to do it. Still, I couldn’t accuse her of anything, especially after all she’d done for me: the leads, the draw, the charity run. I wouldn’t betray her like that. She’d never said I could look in the trunk anyway. Her cards were in the front seat. I slammed the trunk closed.
My hand shook as I unlocked the door and opened the console. The silver cardholder lay exactly where she said it would be, and my fingers tightened around it.
