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A gaping silence. "Calvin, what's the point of all this? I mean, like you're giving me the third degree." |
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"Because you sold the place for less than half the market value, maybe a third. She could have gotten two hundred thousand." |
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"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?" |
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"How long was it on the market before I bought it?" |
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"How could I remember how long?" |
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"You have records, and if you don't know, I could find out." |
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Another pause. "Eight months." |
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"Thought you said she was in a hurry." |
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"I don't know. I don't remember. Maybe she dropped the price." |
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"Ninety? It was a steal at that price." |
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"What can I tell you? You had better taste than the rest." |
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"Or they knew something I didn't." |
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"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?" |
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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?" |
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"But I think you better make a move fast, because she's not going to leave her offer in forever." |
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Mrs. Manning had given them until tomorrow. |
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"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." |
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Calvin hung up. He felt clammy. |
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His American Dream house. His own little West Egg. And like Gatsby, he jumped for the green light without thought. |
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