Jarillo Sunset

by Constance Bretes

  “No, I was hoping I could find a good realtor who could tell me what the house and property is worth,” Mrs. Sedewick replied.

  They walked across the hall into a small bedroom. In it was one small bed and a dresser. The carpet there was also a dark brown, and there were toys strewn about, making it hard to walk around without stepping on something. The closet was small, with a wood sliding door. The walls were white, but dirty, and it looked like one of the boys had punctured the drywall and put a hole in it. There were two small windows in the room with no curtains hung.

  They went to the next bedroom, which was slightly bigger than the previous one. The walls were also white, with the same brown carpet and one larger window in the room. There were two small beds and one dresser. The room had a closet with a wood sliding door.

  After Char examined the rooms on the ground floor, they went downstairs to the basement. It had a cement floor with a sectional rug in the entertainment area. There was another old set of furniture where the boys were seated quietly, watching a small television, the volume turned up full blast. Mrs. Sedewick walked over and turned the volume down.

  As they strolled over to the utility area, Char asked. “Are the washer and dryer staying?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Sedewick answered.

  Char did a quick inspection of the hot water heater and the furnace. She also noted the house had central air, which was pretty much a must-have for that part of the country.

  “The furnace and air conditioner are new, and were installed last year, but the hot water heater has been here since we built the house,” Mrs. Sedewick said.

  “Do you use propane or gas?” Char asked, looking out the basement window in the utility room to see if there was a large propane tank hidden in the yard.

  “We have natural gas. The gas company ran gas lines from Jarillo.”

  There were numerous boxes stacked all around the basement and toys were lying about as well. Char walked into the small bathroom next to the utility room. It had a shower, a toilet, and a small countertop sink with a mirror hanging over it. The bathroom was all done in white, unlike the powder blue one upstairs.

  “Excuse me, gotta go,” a child, about seven years old, said as he came running into the bathroom. Char stepped aside so the boy could get into the bathroom and then stepped out, closing the door behind her.

  Char and Mrs. Sedewick came back upstairs and went out the back door.

  “What is the size of your property?” Char asked.

  “It’s one acre. All lots here are one acre,” Mrs. Sedewick said as they walked out to the end of the property. The backyard needed mowing, just as the front yard did, and there were toys lying around as well.

  “Do you know how many homes are in this subdivision?” Char asked.

  “I think there are approximately forty-five homes so far,” Mrs. Sedewick answered.

  “Are there more lots?” If there are more lots for sale, could I sell them?

  “The homeowners’ association created another road, and it looks like they’ve got five lots ready, or almost ready. You might want to talk to one of the homeowners’ association officers to see if you can list them.”

  That’s precisely what I’m thinking. “Okay, thanks for the information.” Char smiled at her.

  They walked into the garage, and Char noted that it was the cleanest part of the house. She went out of the garage and circled the perimeter of the yard. She secretly stole a glance at the beautiful home across the street, looking to see if the owner was out and about.

  The subdivision didn’t have sidewalks going through their properties, the only sidewalk some homes had was going from the driveway to the front door. So if people wanted to take a walk, they had to walk in the road. The roads were all dirt, and the street names were etched in yellow on wooden poles that were staked into the ground at the beginning and end of each street. Char saw that a few of the houses had in-ground or above-ground swimming pools and some had large flower and vegetable gardens.

  Char had already done some research on the properties in Sunnyside and found that two houses similar to what she was looking at now went for $120,000 to $150,000, which was high considering how the housing market had practically bottomed out.

  With the amount of work that would need to be done to make this house sellable, and then the work that the buyer would have to invest in it, I’d be lucky to sell the house for $90,000.

  After looking around at everything, Mrs. Sedewick and Char went back into the house. Char sat back down on the couch in the living room and took off her reading glasses. “Well, the good news is that the house is sellable. The bad news is that you’ll need to do a lot of things to get the house in order so it’s more appealing to potential buyers.”

  “Yes, I figured that would be the case,” Mrs. Sedewick said.

  “If you don’t have the money to do stuff such as getting rid of those two junk cars out there, cleaning the walls and carpets, getting the outside of the house power washed, and so on, we may be able to sell it as a fixer-upper for about eighty thousand. If you’re able to invest some funds to make the house more presentable, we could possibly push it to ninety thousand.”

  “Okay. My husband did indicate that he would come over and take care of all those things if I could find the right realtor to try to sell it.”

  “That’s great. When do you think he’d be able to come and do some of this? Providing you would like to hire me to sell the house,” Char said, secretly crossing her fingers. She needed to get this listing.

  “If I sign up with you today, I could probably have some of the work done this weekend.”

  “That would be great.”

  “I’ll arrange for him to come over and get as much done as possible.”

  Char thought for a few minutes. “One question I have, how strict is the homeowners’ association here?”

  “They are pretty strict. They’ve filed a lawsuit against us for not maintaining the aesthetic of our house,” Mrs. Sedewick said accusingly. “The neighbor across the street—the one you said who helped you—his name is Vincent Carter, and he’s the president this year for the homeowners’ association. He could tell you more information about the rules. In fact, he could probably give you a copy of them. Um, how much do you charge to list and sell the house?” Mrs. Sedewick asked.

  “We normally charge six percent of the sale price. Here is a list of my services.” Char handed her the list.

  After looking the paper over, Mrs. Sedewick said, “I’d like to hire you, and the six percent is fine. It looks like you would do a lot for me to get the house sold in a reasonable amount of time.”

  “Okay, let me get out the contract and we’ll get to work.” Char was so happy, she was trying not to get giddy about it. This would be house number five for her to list in the past few weeks. She had closings coming up, and she needed to hang on to her job.

  After Mrs. Sedewick and Char signed the contract and worked out what was to take place next, Char went through the house and took pictures. She then decided she had an excellent excuse to go across the street to talk to the man who’d changed her tire.

  Chapter 2

  Vincent pulled into the garage and closed the door at the same time the realtor he had helped pulled into the driveway across the street.

  He walked into his house and was greeted by Ching, who was meowing piteously, as if he’d been starving to death. Then Chang, who had been on top of the chandelier in the dining room, obviously sleeping, jumped down and stretched, let out a big yawn, and ran up to Vincent, rubbing against his legs and begging for food. Vincent went to the food cupboard and pulled out two small bags of moist dry food and put them in their dishes. Ching and Chang were twin Chocolate Point Siamese kittens when he got them. They had tan-colored bodies with chocolate-colored faces, feet, and tail. Their blue eyes are sometimes cross-eyed, and their meows sounded pitiful, a little like a shrill wail.

  Vincent hadn’t been sure if he was going to like
having cats in the house, but it was better than trying to have a dog with the kind of schedule that he kept. The cats had grown on him, and now were like family. When they were little, their antics were humorous and he could watch them for hours. As they got older, he tried to discipline them, but to no avail. They still climbed his vertical blinds to get to the top and walk across the rod, they still climbed into his chandelier in the dining room, and they also liked the light fixture that was over the pool table in the basement as well. They loved to get on the pool table and chase the balls around. For some reason, they loved high places and loved to play at night. Most of the time, they ran back and forth down the hallway from his bedroom to the kitchen, dining room, and living room, sounding like a herd of horses running across the carpet when they got started.

  Vincent walked into the living room. He closed the vertical blinds, then laid down on the couch with the remote control and turned on the television. After the cats ate, they both came up and sat on his chest to do their ritual grooming. While watching the news he fell asleep.

  * * * *

  Char took pictures of the Sedewick’s house from across the street. She then got into her car, backed out of Mrs. Sedewick’s driveway, and pulled into Vincent’s driveway. She checked her face and hair in the mirror, then got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk to the door. She rang the doorbell and waited. When there was no answer, she rang it again.

  Vincent finally opened the door. Oh, wow, he’s gorgeous. Char’s heart quickened at the sight of him.

  “Hi. I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by. I was told that you’re the president of the homeowners’ association, and I was wondering if I could get a copy of the covenants so I can show the potential buyers that may be interested in the house across the street?”

  Vincent opened the door wider and said groggily, “Yeah, come on in.”

  Char entered the foyer area.

  “So they hired you to sell the house?” Vincent asked.

  “Yes, they did.”

  “I have a copy of the covenants in my office. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  Char looked into the living room. The house was just as nice inside as it was outside. The living room had a dark green carpet, with dark green leather furniture, and a large flat screen television with a stereo system. The picture window had a wide ledge on it, and it was covered with white vertical blinds that had thin, dark green stripes going through them. Opposite the window was a brick fireplace, the brick color matching the brick outside the house. There were a few landscape pictures in lush green hanging on walls of soft white. It felt like she had stepped into an oasis in the middle of the desert, it was so cool and comfortable.

  As Char took in the living room area, she heard a loud meow. She turned her attention to the walkway that went into the kitchen area and saw a Siamese cat there. Suddenly, out of nowhere, something jumped on her shoulders. Startled, she took a step back. It was another Siamese cat. He leaped down to the floor and walked over to where the other cat was at. Mmm, he’s a cat lover. I don’t do cats very well.

  Vincent came back out from down the hallway. “Here they are,” he said, handing her a copy of the covenants.

  “Thank you. By the way, my name is Charlene Johnson. Most everyone calls me Char.” She held out her hand.

  Vincent shook her hand and the touch sent off sweet sensations too wonderful for Char to explain in her head.

  “I’m Vincent Carter. My two cats are Ching and Chang.”

  “They look alike,” Char commented.

  “Yes, they’re twins.” Vincent petted one of the cats after he jumped up on the chair near the foyer where they stood.

  “One of them lit on my shoulder when he jumped down.” Char knitted her eyebrows together for a bit, looking at the one on the chair. Is he…cross-eyed?

  “Yeah, they like to climb up to high, out-of-the-way places,” Vincent replied with a wry smile.

  Char looked up at Vincent and thought he looks as if I just woke him up and he’s still tired. “Thank you again for the copy of the covenants. I really wish there was something I could do to pay you back for changing that flat tire for me.”

  Vincent waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

  As Char looked into his face, she noted that his eyes were the darkest shade of black she had ever seen on a human being.

  “Are you sure? Could I fix you a dinner some night or get you movie tickets or, you know, is there something you’d like to do?”

  Char watched Vincent as he studied her. He started at the top of her head and moved his gaze downward. He hesitated slightly at her breasts before his gaze continued on, then moved back again. He stood quiet for a few minutes. Char could tell he had an idea forming in his head.

  “Hmm, are you married or committed to someone?” He looked at her left hand as if checking for a ring.

  “No. I’m not married and not involved with anyone,” she answered quietly.

  “I’m not either,” Vincent admitted. “Are you busy next Saturday?”

  Char’s eyes widened slightly. A date? Is he asking me for a date? “No, I’m not busy next Saturday,” she answered.

  “Well, you can tell me if this is out of line, but would you like to go to a wedding and wedding reception with me on Saturday?”

  Char thought for a few minutes. A wedding? A reception? I can think of other things I’d rather do. But it would be a way to pay him back for helping me. She smiled and said, “Sure, I’ll go with you.”

  “The wedding is going to be held at Jarillo Baptist Church, and the reception will be held at the VFW two doors down from the church. Do you live far from here?” Vincent asked.

  “I live in an apartment at Applegate, between Jarillo and Hobbs. Is that too far?”

  “No, that would be fine. I know where Applegate is. The wedding is scheduled to start at five, and the reception is from six until everyone leaves. They will have a DJ there, and plenty of dancing and drinking going on. I think the whole town of Jarillo will be there,” Vincent said with a shake of his head and a bit of a frown. “I’ll pick you up at about four-thirty. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, four-thirty would be fine. Is it a formal wedding? A dress-up kind of thing, or casual?” she asked.

  “The wedding couple is doing it up fancy.”

  “Okay.” Char scribbled her name, cellphone number, and apartment address on a piece of paper from her clipboard. She handed the paper to him. “Here’s my address. There are big numbers at the front of each building, and I’m in building six. I’m on the first floor, apartment number four. I also included my cellphone number in case you change your mind about taking me. Otherwise, I’ll look forward to seeing you next Saturday,” she said, smiling.

  Damn if this guy isn’t good on the eyes, and apparently he’s very single. But a wedding? Ugh!

  “By the way, your house looks really nice, inside and out,” Char said.

  Vincent nodded politely and then his face broke into a beautiful, understanding smile. “Thank you,” he said appreciatively.

  “Well, I better go. I’ve got to get back to the office and get this house listed.” She turned to walk toward the door.

  “Is this your first house?” he asked.

  “In this subdivision, yes, but I’ve been in real estate for a while. I have five houses listed right now, and I have five more that are scheduled to close in the next few weeks.”

  Vincent smiled as if he was impressed with her. “Okay then, I’ll see you Saturday afternoon.”

  * * * *

  Char drove back to the office and walked inside. “Hello, Danica,” she greeted the woman behind the counter.

  “Hi, Char.” She smiled at her.

  Char walked through the gate to where the cubicles were at. The agents all had cubicles that were four feet in height as part of an open-space floor plan so they could talk to each other without having to get up and walk over to that person’s work ar
ea. When she got to her cubicle, she heard her name being called by Don Stillwater, the owner of the real estate company.

  “Char, come in here for a minute.”

  “Okay, boss,” she replied and turned around to walk toward Don.

  Don was an older man, probably in his late sixties or early seventies, bald-headed, always wearing a business suit. In addition to owning a realty office, he was also a rancher who had several horses and a barn full of cattle.

  “How did it go?” he asked her.

  “Good. I’m going to get started listing the house now.”

  “What’s it worth?” Don asked.

  “Well, in today’s market, I’d say between eighty and a hundred thousand. It needs a lot of work and would be great for a fixer-upper type of buyer.”

  “Okay, have at it then,” Don said. “By the way, did you have anything to do with the mess that was on Mike’s papers for the closing he has scheduled today?”

  “What mess?”

  “The papers on his desk were in disarray, and they had chocolate smeared all over them.”

  “No, not me. I don’t go near his desk, or him for that matter,” Char said.

  “If I find out that you were involved in this in any way, it will mean the end for you.”

  “Mr. Stillwater, I don’t have time to play games with Mike, or any other agent here. Besides, it’s rather immature, isn’t it?” She didn’t want to argue with her boss, but she also didn’t want to be blamed for something she didn’t do.

  “Yes, it is immature, and it may have cost us a client,” Don said, his voice starting to rise.

  “By the way, why do you always assign that damn car to me? I had a flat tire today, and if it wasn’t for a nice gentleman that happened to come along the road at the right time, I wouldn’t have made it to my meeting with the potential sellers,” Char said irritably.

  “I don’t assign that car to you just because I want you to use it, I assign it because it’s the only one available when you need one,” Don answered, equally terse.