A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(9)
"There are other places we can take a look at tomorrow," Gwen said and moved toward the door. She couldn't wait to put distance between herself and old Arnie, at least for a few hours. Her self-control was slipping.
Between his extreme negativism and the snide comments aimed at female agents in general, and Gwen in particular, she'd about had it. She would say something she'd later regret if she didn't get away from him soon.
"If they're anything like the ones you've already shown us, I'm not sure I want to see them." He examined his well-manicured nails for the imaginary dirt he'd picked up in the eight-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar hovels she'd taken him through.
"The houses we looked at today were in the price range you quoted me, Mr. Paul. I'm sorry to say the average home price in Southern Orange County is quite a bit higher than in the bedroom communities around Chicago." A vein throbbed in Gwen's temple.
"You don't need to give me a lecture little lady. I'm well aware of the real estate market in California. I've been flying out and looking at houses for the past year and a half. In fact, I was here last week to look at some places in Laguna Beach."
"Then you know—" Gwen started to say.
"But I've never seen such a sorry bunch of houses in my life as the ones you showed us today. Come, Etta." He pointed to the door. He said the last like you would say, "Sit, Etta," or "Fetch, Etta." Etta jerked into motion and trotted toward the exit. Gwen wished Rocket, her family’s retriever, were as well behaved.
Why women stayed with men like Arnold Paul was one of life's great mysteries. Gwen would have started peppering his dinner with arsenic on the honeymoon. Or, maybe she'd have clubbed him with a frozen turkey leg then cooked it up for the cops. Or, she might have slipped him a mickey on a cruise ship and pushed him overboard. The thoughts cheered her.
"I can show you some homes in a slightly higher price range if you'd like. It doesn't pay to be cheap when it comes to property," Gwen said.
"Cheap?" He spit out the word. "I'd hardly call any of the homes we looked at cheap in any way other than in their construction."
"I have another listing I haven't shown you because it's more than you said you wanted to spend. The owner is a builder. He designed the house himself. It's sensational." Gwen looked at Etta and added, "Nice neighborhood, oceanview, quiet well-landscaped street."
Etta looked at Arnold before allowing herself to smile.
"How much more?" Arnold narrowed his eyes.
"Thirty-five thousand," Gwen said.
"I don't know." Arnold folded his arms over his ample stomach.
"I think you'll qualify..." Gwen let the words trail off.
"Of course I'll qualify." He puffed out his chest.
Gwen smiled. "I can take you by tomorrow. The owners are getting ready to leave town and can't be disturbed today."
"Okay, we'll take a look at it." He strutted out the door, flattening his poor wife against the wall as he steamrolled by her. "But don't you get your hopes up, Etta."
#
After Gwen dropped the Pauls off at their hotel, she headed to Dana Point. A cool breeze tickled the hair on her neck as she walked up the stone path of 213 Sailor's Haven Drive. She inhaled. The delicious scent of wisteria riding on the ocean air reminded her of chocolate laced with sea salt. Rockroses and white hydrangeas popped against a backdrop of cool gray-blue siding. She couldn't imagine what Arnold could find wrong with this house, but he'd probably find something.
She rang the doorbell next to the crisp, white front door. Mary Beth Frobisher answered looking like a cover model from an AARP magazine. "So, show me this contraption you're hooking our house up with," she said, ushering Gwen indoors. "Tea?"
"No, thanks. It's nothing like the old lockboxes," Gwen began.
They walked through the dining area to a living room overlooking the Dana Point Harbor. Sunlight streamed through large, paned windows and fell in blocks on the hardwood floor. Boats bobbed on a crayon-box blue background. This was the kind of house Gwen dreamed of, not only to represent, but also to live in one day. One day, when she'd made it big.
"It's been so long since we've sold a house, I'm afraid I'm way behind the times." Mary Beth sat on a spotless, white sofa gesturing to a matching chair opposite. Gwen perched on its edge, fearful she'd smudge it. She could only imagine what the kids and the dog would do to this furniture.
"Things have changed a lot," Gwen said.
Mary Beth and her husband, Charles, had not wanted to put a lockbox on their home. They had expensive art and didn't like the idea of strangers tromping through their house when they weren't there.
"The new lockboxes," Gwen said, "are connected wirelessly to a security company. Agents have to have an account with them to get to the key inside the box."
"But how do they know you're an agent when you sign up? What's to stop any Tom, Dick, or Harry from creating an account?"
"We have to prove we're Realtors in good standing with the board. It's a very secure system."
Mary Beth crossed her legs, tapped her foot in the air and looked out the window. After several seconds she said, "You must think I'm a fuddy-duddy but there have been two break-ins near here recently."