|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Calvin's office phone rang like a premonition. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Calvin, what can I say? It's fantastic. I mean, what a killing!" Beverly Otis's voice filled his head. "I've been in this business for eighteen years and I've never seen anything like this before. I mean, almost twice the price is incredible!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Given what we bought it for." He had to hold the phone away. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I'll say. So, when we gonna close? I can have her here tomorrow at ten, and the lawyer, and we pass papers before lunch so you can take your wife out to celebrate. They're paying cash, so no need for bank officials and mortgage approvals. I mean, a piece of cake!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Well, that's not why I called you, Beverly." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Calvin's eyes fixed on the eight-by-ten desk photo behind his telephone. It showed Terry and Matty sitting on the top step of the brick walk that led to the front door. Her arm was around his shoulders, and Matty was beaming at the camera. Calvin had taken the picture last spring. The grass blazed in the sun, and in the background the dogwood was in outrageous bloom, looking like a pink cloud against the dark backdrop of Magog. It could have been a realtor's promo shot. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I need some information." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Information. Okay, uh-huh. Shoot." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Ten years ago we bought the place for $72,000." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Yes. Your exact words were 'steal of the century.'" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"It was." She chuckled musically. "In fact, had I known then what I know now, I'd have bought it myself." |
|
|
|
|
|