by Laura Wolfe
“Oh, yeah. It’s great,” I said, biting my lip but remembering the $10,000 already raised from the entry fees and donations.
Jacqueline held up a blue water bottle with her website printed in capital letters across the front. “And everyone who finishes gets a free water bottle.”
“Okay.” I looked down to mask the disappointment in my eyes.
“One-hundred and sixty-two people have registered. About half have checked in so far.” She waved me off. “I’ll do this. You go mingle.”
Mingle? I wondered at her choice of words.
Grace approached from behind a cluster of people, her glossy ponytail fluttering in the wind, and Astro pulling her toward the beach.
“Thanks for doing this,” I said as I reached down to pat Astro on the head. He sniffed my hand, followed by a slimy lick.
“Of course. Running is the worst, but Astro can pull me when I get tired.” Grace jiggled the leash and smiled.
I snaked through a crowd of people to where my parents and Emma sat on folding chairs. They’d come to watch the event and show their appreciation. Emma had undergone another round of chemo since I’d last seen her, and I decided it was better not to mention the ordeal with Peter to my family. They didn’t need to worry about anything else.
Emma’s body was collapsing in upon itself. She wore a pink knitted hat pulled down over her ears. Her heavy clothing couldn’t conceal the thin arms she crossed in front of her chest. I walked up next to her and squeezed her shoulder, feeling the points of her bones through the coat.
“Looks like a good turnout. We’re expecting over one hundred and sixty runners.” I surveyed the crowd, which continued to grow. Some of Emma’s friends had made the trek from the suburbs and were picking up their T-shirts from the registration table. Others, who I didn’t recognize, gathered in small groups talking and stretching. Many of Greystone’s realtors were milling around, including a few of the Real Housewives. Even Kevin Lucas was there. They all wore the blue T-shirts, at least, everyone except Kevin, who balled the shirt in his hand.
Emma turned to me and smiled. “Thanks, Mara. This is amazing.”
“It was Jacqueline’s idea.”
“She seems nice. I’m glad you’re working for someone cool.”
“Next year, you’ll be running in this.” My hand squeezed Emma’s bony shoulder. “To help someone else.”
“Yeah,” Emma said, but her voice was thin as if she didn’t really believe it. Looking at her twig of a body, I wasn’t sure if I believed it either. The chemo looked like it was doing more damage to her than cancer ever did.
“This will be a big help,” Mom said. “Tell Jacqueline again how much we appreciate it.”
“Yep. I will.”
Dad tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to step away with him. I followed him to an open area behind a cluster of trees. He cleared his throat and leaned in close. “How much do you think you’ll raise?”
“I don’t know the exact amount. Jacqueline said we’ve raised close to $10,000.” I noticed the wrinkles on his forehead. “How much do you need?”
Silence loomed for several seconds as I registered Dad’s concern. He’d never been one to share his financial problems with me.
“We’re in over forty K now.” Dad inhaled. “Not sure what our next step is…”
“Forty thousand?” I asked, wondering if I’d heard the number right. “Even with the Go Fund Me account?”
“Yes.”
My legs felt as if they might give out. I stared out at the lake, comprehending the situation. My Dad’s subpar insurance policy wasn’t getting it done. My parents desperately needed the ten thousand dollars from this event. Jacqueline’s self-promotion was tacky—at best—but I wouldn’t complain about any of it.
“What about the equity line?” I asked.
“We’ve gone through it. We had to draw on it a few times over the years when I was in between jobs. And now, with all the bills. We might have to sell the house…” Dad’s voice dissolved, his eyes darting toward the lake.
“What? No!” A jolt of panic turned my stomach. I pictured our dated, split-level home with its brick and vinyl exterior. It had looked pretty much the same for as far back as I could remember, nondescript to someone just passing by, but filled with a lifetime of memories for Emma and me and my parents. We couldn’t lose it. “That doesn’t make any sense. You guys need someplace to live.”
The horn sounded, and everyone turned toward the registration table. I touched Dad on the arm.
“We’ll figure it out.”
His eyelids sagged, but he nodded. I followed him back to where Mom and Emma sat several yards away.
Jacqueline held a megaphone up to her mouth. “Thank you, everyone, for coming out this morning. The run will begin in five minutes, but first, I’d like to tell you how much we appreciate you being here for Emma Butler, who is my assistant, Mara Butler’s sister.” Jacqueline pointed toward us. “Emma is going to win her battle with cancer, thanks to all of you!”
Cheers, applause, and whistles rang out from all around.
Emma held up her hand and waved at the crowd. “Thank you,” she said, although I could barely hear her.
“We’ll meet you back here at the end of the run, where you can pick up your free water bottle! Good luck!”
People lined up. I said goodbye to my family and made my way over to Jacqueline, who stood on one leg while stretching her other leg behind her.
“Ready?” she asked me.
“Yeah,” I said, despite being unprepared for the run. I held my foot behind me, copying Jacqueline’s stretch. My balance dissolved, and I toppled sideways. Finding my feet, I closed my eyes and inhaled the cold, damp lakeside air. It was only a 5K, but I hadn’t trained for it at all, not like Jacqueline, who ran twice as far every single morning. I lined up next to her, tugging the too-large T-shirt over my head.
A horn blared behind us, and everyone took off, some faster than others. Grace jogged to the right of me, struggling against Astro’s leash as the dog barreled toward a stray seagull. Jacqueline ran on my left in an even, steady stride. As Grace lapsed behind, Jacqueline and I fell into step with each other.
She ran like a practiced professional. Her blonde ponytail swayed rhythmically in the wind, and her eyes stayed trained ahead. I bobbled along, powering through my breathlessness while she sprung higher in the air with each step.
“You can go on ahead,” I told her about five minutes into the run when a cramp stabbed at my side.
“No way. We’re in this together. We’re a team.” She wasn’t out of breath at all. She slowed her pace to match mine. We continued along the route, Jacqueline easily finding her stride while I pretended the searing pain in my abdomen wasn’t bothering me. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other as we dodged the Sunday morning bikers and runners traveling toward us. Once in awhile, we’d pass people we knew.
“Hi, Missy. Hi, Rita,” Jacqueline said as we jogged around a couple of the Real Housewives who were now power walking.
“Thanks for coming,” I managed to spit out in between breaths.
I wished Jacqueline would separate from me, so I could walk for a minute and catch my breath, so I could shake away the image of the ‘For Sale’ sign in front of my childhood home. But Jacqueline stuck by my side, oblivious to my agony.
At last, we reached the halfway mark and turned back toward our starting point. Maybe it was because the wind was at my back, but my muscles loosened, and the run felt easier. I picked up the pace. Jacqueline nodded at me and matched my speed. As I found my stride, I started to enjoy the experience—the spring breeze brushing against my skin, the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing against the shoreline, the fresh smell of the water. Lake Michigan seemed to stretch on forever. I focused on my breathing. The route was a temporary escape from the claustrophobia of the city. Suddenly, I understood the appeal of Jacqueline’s morning runs.
As we passed a stre
tch of beach, a memory of a different beach many miles away and several years earlier played in my head. It had been spring break. I was fifteen, Emma seven. We took a rare family vacation to Florida where Mom and Dad had rented a tired, one-bedroom condo a block from the ocean.
On the first morning, Emma’s squeals and laughter had woken me up as she ripped open the dusty curtains in the living room of the condo. The weather report was perfect—82 degrees and sunny. We filled oversized beach bags with snacks, sunscreen, and toys and headed to the public beach, Dad dragging a cooler of lunches and drinks behind him and Emma skipping ahead in her rainbow bathing suit unable to contain her excitement. We arrived ahead of the crowd and staked out a spot on a prime section of sand, not too far from the water.
Emma and I raced toward the ocean, dipping our toes into the freezing surf. I pretended to push her into the water, and she shrieked before running back to the safety of land. Then, camped out on my towel, the sun warmed my back like a blanket.
“Let’s build a sandcastle,” Emma said a few minutes later, jumping up and down.
I was too old to build sandcastles, but I did it anyway, happy to use Emma as an excuse. Over and over, my sister raced between the ocean and our sand mountain, her bucket brimming with ocean water before she dumped it into the mote. The water sat for a second before disappearing into the ground.
“Better get more water.” Piling the sand higher and higher, I smirked and wondered when she’d realize the water wouldn’t stay. Emma never gave up. She was the opposite of me, a ball of positive energy. She kept running back and forth, filling the mote, determined.
“Maybe one more,” she said, breathless. Mom looked up from her novel and chuckled.
Jacqueline coughed, and my head jerked toward her. I did a doubletake at the North Avenue beach, which sat in the distance, the downtown high rises poking into the sky on the other side of Lake Shore Drive. The second half of the run had gone by fast. Emma, my parents, and a small crowd of onlookers waited beyond a red and white “Finish Line” banner. Cheers rang out as we approached. A few runners who had already completed the race loitered nearby drinking Dixie cups of water. I glanced at Jacqueline, envisioning us crossing the finish line together, a team.
When we were a few hundred feet from the finish, Jacqueline pushed out her chest, focused straight ahead, and bolted ahead of me in a burst of unexpected speed.
“Go, Jacqueline!” someone yelled. The crowd cheered.
I stretched my feet out farther to match her stride, but it was too late. She raised her arms in the air like an Olympic gold medalist and crossed the finish line without me. With my side aching and my sense of accomplishment deflated, my pace slowed to something between a walk and a jog.
“Yeah, Mara!” A woman yelled. The banner rippled in the wind.
The applause continued. My breath ripped through my lungs. I pushed through the shock and agony and stumbled across the finish line a few seconds behind Jacqueline.
She stood with a hand on her hip and shoved a Dixie cup filled with water toward me. “You did it.”
I stared at my feet. My shoulders heaved as hunched forward, resting my hands on my knees. “I thought we were going to cross the finish line together.”
She shrugged. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away.”
Emma and my parents pressed toward us through the crowd.
I raised my shoulders, drawing strength from the cheering voices nearby. “At least the run was a success,” I said between labored breaths.
Jacqueline grinned. “Definitely.” She scanned the beach and then leaned toward me. “I don’t see Natalia Romanov hosting any charity runs. Do you?”
20
My toes curled inside my heeled shoes, and my knees jiggled under the closing table in the windowless conference room at Title One. Grace sat next to me, signing page after page of documents. She looked like a celebrity in her trendy horn-rimmed glasses, and a pink scarf looped around her neck. Between each signature, she pressed the tips of her fingers into her forehead.
“This is a workout.” She seemed to be only half-joking as she glanced from me to the attorney.
I needed her to sign everything, to work her way to the bottom of that pile. Make it official. My first commission check waited on the printer.
I’d only shown Grace four condos. It took one hour. She loved all of them, but she ended up putting in an offer on the one across from the dog park in River North.
“Astro will love this,” she said as we stood on the balcony watching the dogs sniff each other and race after muddy tennis balls. “I bet this is a great place to meet guys, too.”
“There’s a doggy daycare right down the street.” I handed her the coupons I’d snagged from the front counter.
Grace was painfully predictable. I probably should have insisted that she look at some more places, but I knew her too well. I didn’t want to mess up the deal. Never argue with a yes. That’s what Jacqueline always said.
It had been forty-two days since I presented Grace with the fake letter from my condo board. The sour taste of guilt occasionally rose in my throat over the method I’d chosen to push out my roommate, Peter’s warnings edging their way into my head from time to time. She’ll make you do bad things.
I shook his words away. No one had made me do anything. Besides, everyone would be better off this way. Even Astro. Despite her painstakingly slow signatures at the closing table, Grace was excited to become a property owner.
My commission wouldn’t be much after Greystone took its fifty percent cut, but it could supply my next mortgage payment and pay down my credit card. I wanted to pay back some of the draw from Jacqueline and my building’s ridiculous special assessment, but that would have to come from another deal. Today was the first drop in the bucket. Losing my job at Averly Consulting was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was right, and Nate was wrong. I was going to be successful in real estate.
There were a few other deals in the works, too. Grace had already referred one of her co-workers to me. The others were referral fees from Jacqueline, but they would be good-size checks. As long as I stuck with her, deals were finding me. I was already on track to make more in my first six months at Greystone than my entire salary last year.
“And here we have a check for Greystone Realty.” The portly woman handed me the check at last.
After pinning the check inside my folder, I passed Grace two sets of keys to her new condo.
“Thanks, Mara.” She stood, grinning.
“You’re welcome and congratulations.”
I extended my hand to shake hers. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me in a hug so tight I couldn’t breathe.
◆◆◆
Jacqueline strode down North Avenue, yelling into her phone at an attorney. I shuffled after her, enjoying the heat of the sun on my face. I’d just turned in my first commission check to the accounting department, and Jacqueline insisted on treating me to a coffee at Starbuck’s.
I appreciated everything she was doing for me, but she made a better mentor than a friend. She could be moody, for one. Some of her methods were questionable. But this was big-city real estate. And it wasn’t like she was hurting anyone. It was annoying that she’d commercialized Emma’s charity run, but the event had raised some much-needed funds. The fake gang symbols were more troubling, but the graffiti blasters removed everything within days, or hours even. Her investor would have bought those buildings anyway. She wasn’t evil like Kevin and Peter had wanted me to believe. She was only pushing things along a little faster, making things happen. Kind of like I’d done with Grace. And that guy from her story who owned a window repair business.
Tony threw his hand in the air as we rounded the corner toward Starbucks.
“Hey, Mara. Beautiful day. Beautiful day.”
“Hi, Tony.” I dug into my purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Tony nodded at me as he slipped the bill in his pocket
.
Jacqueline disappeared behind the glass door before it slammed in my face.
I pulled the door open, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust to Starbuck’s dim interior.
“You shouldn’t give money to those people,” she said under her breath. “He’s just going to spend it on alcohol.”
I tilted my head, remembering her “helping people” speech at Germania Place. I shrugged, not wanting to argue with her. Tony seemed like a decent human being whose life had gone off track. Giving the guy a few bucks a couple of times a week was the least I could do. The way he repeated everything twice made me smile.
Jacqueline ordered her soy latte and pushed me toward the counter. I ordered a chai, and we drifted toward a tall, round table near the window.
“Congrats!” She raised her coffee cup, and I tapped it with mine. “To your first deal!”
I gulped more of the tea than I meant to, scalding my throat. “Thanks,” I said.
Jacqueline glanced over my shoulder. “You haven’t had any more problems with Peter, have you?”
Just as Jacqueline had predicted, Peter was released from jail less than two days after they arrested him and slapped with nothing more than a warning and fifty hours of community service.
“No,” I said, remembering the forms for the Protective Order Jacqueline had me sign several days earlier. “The Protective Order must be working.”
“Good.” She tapped her fingernails against the cardboard cup. “I thought that would do the trick.”
“Did you get in your run this morning?” I asked.
“I always get in my run, Mara.” She pressed her lips together into a thin line. “There were more people than usual out today. The warmer weather does that.”
“I wouldn’t know. There’s always a swarm of people at my crappy gym.” My eyes traveled away from her, hoping she didn’t pick up on the fact that I didn’t “always” go to the gym. It was a good month if I dragged myself onto the stair climber once or twice.
“With all the deals coming your way, you’ll be able to join any gym you want.” She leaned in and locked eyes with me. “You’ve already lasted longer than most of my other assistants. You have what it takes, Mara.” The light streaming in through the window reflected off the mirrored surface of Jacqueline’s eyes. “I want to share something with you. Something I don’t usually tell people.”
