The dogs were puzzled by their change of digs, but once Mary Alice helped me unload all their gear, they settled right in like it was home. I tried to suppress a pang of jealousy when Lucy, ignoring me completely, nudged Mary Alice’s arm as hard as she could, demanding attention. Ethel had already curled up in her crate for a snooze.
Mary Alice laughed at my reaction. “Don’t worry, I know I’m just the dog sitter. I won’t steal them from you.”
“I didn’t realize I was being that obvious,” I confessed. “I want them to like being here, but…”
“But not as much as being with you,” Mary Alice finished.
“I’m glad you asked me to take care of the dogs,” she went on. “I hope it means you forgive me for my behavior the night of the Bunco party. I don’t know what got into me, carrying on like that.”
“Since you brought it up, I have been worried about you,” I answered. “It’s been so crazy trying to get the house ready to sell that I haven’t called you for a while. But are you sure you’re OK? Really?”
“You’re one of the few people who know that Brian and I had a huge fight right before he had his car accident,” Mary Alice said. “It took a lot for me to admit that to you. I’ve felt guilty for years that I never had the chance to tell him I was sorry.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
I covered her hand with mine and gave it a little squeeze. “You don’t owe me any explanation,” I said.
“I guess I’m trying to explain my behavior at the Bunco party to myself as much as to you,” Mary Alice said.
“I’ve been doing pretty well for years, but being in the emergency room the night that poor hit and run victim was brought in triggered all sorts of bad memories. And when Phyllis started carrying on about the hit and run driver being innocent until proven guilty, I snapped, even though I knew she was right. She was just so self-righteous about it. I wonder how she’d feel if someone in her own family died like that.”
She stopped herself just in time. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m sorry. It’s just that I can be honest with you, because you know the whole story. Sometimes I feel that I killed Brian, because he wasn’t concentrating on his driving after the awful fight we had.”
Lucy licked Mary Alice’s hand, sensing her misery.
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t realized how much this was eating away at her.
“That’s enough of my self-pity,” she said abruptly. “Time to change the subject. Are you all set for the open house? If Nancy wouldn’t freak out, could I stop by and check out the changes you’ve made? I don’t mean to be nosy.”
“You’re not being nosy,” I said. “That’s a great idea. You can be my personal set of eyes and ears, since Jim and I have been banished for the day. And you can be sure that no one has too much to drink and falls asleep on my bed.”
Mary Alice raised her eyebrows quizzically.
“You didn’t know? The open house is on St. Patrick’s Day, and Nancy’s making it into an Irish festival. I think she’s even serving Irish coffee and Guinness.
“Thank God I talked her out of the step dancers.”
St. Patrick’s Day dawned with gray skies and a light drizzle. The house had never looked better. All the clutter was gone. No photographs of family events decorated the bookshelves. It looked like a move-in-ready model home. I had to admit that Marcia the Super Stager knew what she was doing.
Nancy insisted that Jim and I be out of the house before 9 a.m. “And no parking across the street to keep tabs on who comes. I’ll give you a complete report later.”
Nancy had done a Realtors’ open house on Friday, March 16th. According to her, several Realtors had come and claimed they had clients “who’d be just perfect for this darling antique house.” She was expecting a big crowd at the public open house, especially since the advertising had highlighted the fact that Guinness and Irish coffee would be served. I hoped that no one got too inebriated that they forgot this was a real estate event and not a wild party.
I needn’t have worried. At least, not about that. When My Beloved and I arrived home at 4 p.m., having run out of places to go to kill time and anxious for a report, Nancy announced that the open house was a fantastic success.
“People came in droves,” she said. “Of course, a lot of them were lookie-loos from the neighborhood. They may give a song and dance story that they’re checking out the listing for a friend, but Realtors can always tell they just want to check out someone else’s house.
“I’ve never done an open house that was this popular. I suppose it could have been the liquor I served. Good thing Mary Alice showed up to help show people around. Everyone raved about the house. Marcia did a great job staging it. I know you don’t like her, but she knows her job.”
Nancy paused for maximum effect.
“So, do you want to know the big news?”
Without giving either Jim or me a chance to respond, she blurted out, “We had a full-price offer on the house. Closing in thirty days, subject to standard inspections.
“And the buyer is pre-approved for a mortgage, so this is the real deal,” she crowed. “I hope you’re both pleased.”
Pleased? We were in shock.
Worse than that, we were homeless.
Chapter 10
Before marriage, a man will lie awake all night
thinking about something you said. After marriage,
he’ll fall asleep before you finish saying it.
My Beloved insisted that we accept the offer that very day. He didn’t want to take the chance that the buyer would change his mind.
“This is a corporate transfer, so we don’t have to worry about this buyer having to sell a home so he can buy yours,” said Nancy, switching from her best friend persona to her hard-core real estate one. She could tell I was having major doubts about being rushed into such a huge decision, so she went in for the kill.
“The Cartwrights are a nice family, Carol. They love the house. I know you’d never want to sell to anyone who wouldn’t care for it as much as you have. Imagine how wonderful it’ll be to have young children in the house again. They have two, a boy and a girl, just like you. Can’t you imagine their kids playing in the back yard, just like Jenny and Mike did?
“But here’s the best part. You won’t believe this.” Nancy waited a beat for us to respond.
I snuck a look at Jim. I was sure he was mentally calculating what the net proceeds from the house sale would be after we paid Nancy’s commission.
“Alyssa Cartwright’s parents are Sara and Chuck Miller. Can you believe it? That’s one of the prime reasons why they wanted to live in this neighborhood, to be close to her family. She and Jack are absolutely thrilled with this opportunity. You can’t break their hearts, Carol. You’ve gotta say yes.”
Nancy knew that appealing to my emotions suckered me in every time. Funny that, after all these years of marriage, my husband still didn’t understand that.
In my heart, I knew she was right. I just didn’t want to be strong-armed into anything.
“It sounds like a great offer,” I said, stalling for time. “But I’m not sure I’m quite ready to do this. It’s all happening so fast.”
Jim and Nancy both stared at me like I was nuts.
“Carol, you can’t be serious,” Nancy said. “Do you know how lucky you are to get a full price offer at the first open house? That never happens.”
“Honey, I know this is hard for you,” My Beloved said. “But you know this is for the best.”
I just sat there like an idiot. Then, mercifully, the front doorbell rang. Saved by the bell, I thought, as I scurried to answer it, leaving Nancy and Jim in the kitchen. Thank God for a distraction so I’d have time to sort out my feelings.
I opened the door to a good-looking young man in his late thirties.
“Can I help you?” I asked, figuring he was lost and needed directions. My mother raised me to be polite.
The man was neatly dressed for an ea
rly spring Connecticut weekend in a tan leather bomber jacket and pressed chinos. His light brown hair was slightly mussed from the wind. Not particularly tall or short. Just…um…ordinary in height. I did notice a slim body under the bomber jacket that looked like it got a gym workout every day.
He gave me a huge smile, showing off straight, even teeth that must have cost his parents a fortune.
Believe me, I know all about that.
“I know this is irregular,” my unexpected visitor said, “but I just wanted to look at your beautiful front staircase one more time. I hope you don’t mind if I come inside.”
Huh?
He moved his body around me, and the next thing I knew I had this perfect stranger standing in my foyer.
Who the heck was this guy? An open-house leftover? I wasn’t frightened, though. Just irritated.
“I’m sorry,” I said, letting my annoyance show, “but the open house is over.” So go away, you pushy person.
“I’m the one who should apologize,” the young man said. “I should have introduced myself when you answered the door.”
He took my right hand and crushed it in his. I noticed his palms were wet, which always grosses me out.
“I’m Jack Cartwright.” He continued to pump my hand. “My family and I saw your house this afternoon, and we just love it. We want to buy it. It’s exactly what we’ve been looking for.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Green.” This last was directed at Nancy who, hearing voices, had come to the front of the house along with My Beloved. She hates to miss anything.
“Why, Jack,” Nancy said. “This is a surprise. Why are you back here so soon? Are you alone? Where’s your Realtor?”
“I was anxious to see how our offer was received,” Jack confessed, flashing his perfect teeth again in a boyish grin. “I guess I shouldn’t have showed up this way, but Alyssa is in love with this house. She thinks it’s perfect for us. And the fact that it’s in this neighborhood, right near her family, is great. I love seeing her so happy, and I hope you’ll accept our offer.
“Mr. Andrews,” Jack said, turning the full force of his considerable charm on My Beloved and shaking his hand, “it’s such a pleasure to meet you, sir. The job you’ve done landscaping the house is spectacular. I can tell you’ve taken years to get the yard looking as good as it does. What curb appeal. I want to hear all about how you did it. I know I have a lot to learn, and you’re obviously a master gardener.”
Huh? Give me a break. Our yard is nice, but Jim had a long way to go to qualify as a master gardener. Jack Cartwright reminded me a little of Eddie Haskell on Leave It To Beaver. Remember him? “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing, Mrs. Cleaver.” What a suck-up.
Of course, My Beloved reacted to this shameless flattery like a typical guy. The next thing I knew, he and Jack were settled at the dining room table chatting away like old buddies.
I rolled my eyes at Nancy. She, however, pulled up a chair to join them. And had the nerve to pour each of them an Irish coffee.
Jeez.
Was I the only one who thought Jack Cartwright was pushy? And noticed that, when he talked, he never made eye contact with the person he was talking to? He also was adept at bending the truth, if his remark about Jim being a master gardener was any indication of his character.
I ignored that little voice in my head that announced, Takes one to know one.
I was nitpicking. Trying to find fault with the poor guy so I wouldn’t have to sell his family our house. Truth to tell, I was also not happy that, if the house sale went through, my persnickety neighbor Sara Miller would have free rein here. I could already hear her, going from room to room with her daughter, criticizing my decorating choices.
Oh, Carol, get a grip.
Jack and Alyssa Cartwright loved our house. And it would be wonderful to have this place filled with a young family again.
So what if his palms were sweaty? He was probably nervous.
Well, what else could I do? I gave in, reluctantly, and accepted the offer. And then I had a large Irish coffee myself.
Sláinte!
The closer we came to moving day, the grumpier I became. And we still hadn’t found a permanent place to live. We had a temporary rental, a one-bedroom furnished apartment the size of a shoe box. It was the only place we could find that allowed dogs. As a bonus, we could rent week-to-week, so when we found a property to buy, which I prayed would be soon, there wouldn’t be a problem getting out of a lease.
I was making slow-to-no progress with the packing. Jim, cynic that he was, accused me of dragging my feet to delay the closing, which was totally untrue. Since our rental was furnished, we only needed personal items and some clothes to go with us. The rest, including Mike’s precious comics, was going into the storage unit since, according to our son, it was impossible for him to come home and do his own packing on such short notice.
At the rate I was going, I’d probably still be packing when the moving truck pulled up to the door.
I needed help – in more ways than one – so I enlisted Jenny. I could always count on my daughter to be sympathetic to my feelings. She even let me whine to my heart’s content without criticism. Most of the time.
“I hate the feeling of being unsettled,” I said for probably the hundredth time as we worked side by side in the dining room, packing up the good china and crystal. “I wish Dad and I had found a new home before being forced out of our old one.”
“You and Dad are more than welcome to move in with me,” said my darling daughter as she helped me wrap some Waterford crystal goblets in bubble paper. “Of course, you’d have to sleep on the sofa bed in the living room. Unless I moved in with Mark.” She smiled at me mischievously.
I considered my reply carefully, for once. Jenny was a grown-up woman and I had already assumed that her relationship with Mark had progressed beyond the platonic. Was she hinting that a wedding could be in the near future? Nah, that was probably just wishful thinking on my part, coupled with my bad habit of jumping to conclusions.
“That’s so nice of you to offer, sweetie,” I said, ignoring the chance to ask a few personal questions, which just about killed me. “But I’m afraid that if we moved into a small condo like yours, it might point your father in that direction as a permanent solution. You know his new mantra for a place to live – something we can lock and leave. I’m sure he learned that phrase on HGTV. And what about the dogs? Are they allowed in your complex?”
“The offer’s good if you get desperate, Mom. Don’t worry about Lucy and Ethel. I’ve seen other tenants walking dogs, so I’m sure they’re allowed.
“Where’s Dad this morning? I thought he’d be here helping you pack.”
“I wish I knew,” I said in frustration. “He was reading the paper this morning as usual. Scissors in hand, just in case he found something to clip. You know how he is.”
Jenny laughed and rolled her eyes.
“I was talking about how miserable I felt. Well, I was complaining,
really.” I sighed. “Poor man, he must be sick of listening to me by now. Anyway, the next thing I knew, he shot out of his chair and said he had to go out for a little while. No explanation. And he’s been gone for more than two hours. With all this to do.” I gestured around at the growing mass of boxes that seemed to be taking over every part of the house.
The more I thought about Jim’s behavior, the madder I got. Here we were, with less than two weeks to go before we moved out, and My Beloved, whose health was the main reason I’d agreed to move in the first place, was nowhere to be found.
“Which would you rather have, Mom?” asked Jenny. “Your husband second-guessing every packing decision you make and driving you crazy, or one who’s temporarily a.w.o.l.?”
No contest there.
“When you put it like that, I guess I’m lucky he’s out of the house,” I agreed. “Let’s see how much more we can get done before he shows up to re-organize us.”
I heard the kitchen doo
r slam, and the dogs began to bark.
“Too late,” said Jenny. “I’ll go get the lay of the land. You keep packing. No dilly-dallying.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll get right back to it, ma’am.” Jeez. When did my daughter become so bossy?
I was standing on the step stool, reaching for my good serving platter, which remained maddeningly beyond my grasp, when My Beloved materialized to help.
“Carol, you might fall. I’ll get the platter down for you.”
I bit back a sarcastic reply, like, “Better late than never,” and when Jim handed me the platter, I took a good look at him. He was quivering with excitement, like Lucy and Ethel are when they’re anticipating a treat.
Something was definitely up.
“Sit down, honey. I have some great news. You’re going to be so happy.”
Jim was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet now.
I swept some bubble wrap off a dining room chair and gave him my complete attention. Lower your expectations, I warned myself, having learned over the years that Jim’s idea of great news (a five-cent drop in gas at the pump) and mine (I tried on a Size 6 dress and actually zipped it up) were usually miles apart.
“Eden’s Grove had a full-page ad in this morning’s paper. You remember that place, right?”
Remember it? How could I forget it? The active adult community that was so “active” I’d need pep pills to keep up with the pace there. To say nothing of their single-pet policy, which had completely turned me off.
I felt a prickle of foreboding.
“They’ve re-thought their marketing strategy to be more competitive in the current real estate market,” My Beloved continued. “The owners have figured out that multi-pet families like ours could expand their potential buyer pool. Especially since all the other active adult communities have a single-pet policy. So they’re building a section of free-
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