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Page 101
A gaping silence. "Calvin, what's the point of all this? I mean, like you're giving me the third degree."
"Because you sold the place for less than half the market value, maybe a third. She could have gotten two hundred thousand."
"Calvin, her husband had just died, and she was elderly and superstitious and was in a hurry to put things behind her. I mean, what can I say?"
"How long was it on the market before I bought it?"
"How could I remember how long?"
"You have records, and if you don't know, I could find out."
Another pause. "Eight months."
"Thought you said she was in a hurry."
"I don't know. I don't remember. Maybe she dropped the price."
"You have the folder."
"She started at ninety."
"Ninety? It was a steal at that price."
"What can I tell you? You had better taste than the rest."
"Or they knew something I didn't."
"Nobody knew anything," she said. "Look, Calvin, stop being so suspicious. Even if there was something there, all that chemical stuff breaks down anyway, no?"
"We can only hope."
There was another awkward silence. "Well, as soon as you and Terry make a decision on the offer, give a call, and we'll put together the P and S and get you some temporary housing, okay?"
"Yeah."
"But I think you better make a move fast, because she's not going to leave her offer in forever."
Mrs. Manning had given them until tomorrow.
"By the way, how's that big boy of yours? I saw his name in the paper the other day. On the Devil Dogs, my nephew Scott's on the Cardinals. God, they grow up so fast."
"Yeah."
"We'll talk tomorrow."
Calvin hung up. He felt clammy.
minor liability
His American Dream house. His own little West Egg. And like Gatsby, he jumped for the green light without thought.

 
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