“Jeffrey Rutherford. A pleasure, I’m sure. We talked on the phone. I’m Jodie,” she said in a voice that had been abraded by countless cigarettes and a fair amount of hard liquor, judging by the network of ruptured veins on her nose.
“Yes. Thanks for coming. Let’s go up and take a look. I only have a few minutes, and I know your time’s valuable…” Jeffrey said.
“Time is money. Lead the way.”
Once upstairs, Jeffrey hesitated at Keith’s door, his hand betraying an almost imperceptible tremor, and then he inserted the key and pushed it open. He hadn’t been back since the single visit he’d made to clean out the files, and when he stepped inside, he was relieved to find that it was just a place, nothing more — no sense of invading his brother’s space or violating his memory as he and Jodie did a walkthrough.
“Well, it’s in nice shape. Why are you selling it?” she asked, noting the features with a practiced eye, tapping the details into her phone as she took photos of the view, the bathroom, and the kitchen.
“I… I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m going to. But I want to understand the market. If it’s the right number…” Jeffrey hadn’t told her the full story and wanted to keep his options open. He’d looked at a few places, but now that he was standing in the condo again, he realized that none of them had been as nice or as centrally located. He was surprised by the direction his thinking was headed, but he gave no indication, preferring to study the view.
“I’ll have to run some more comps, but my gut says six to six-fifty. This area’s white hot again. It’s almost completely recovered from the slump a few years back. The positives are that it’s a great building, nice neighborhood, good size, modern appliances, and it eyeballs nicely. Negatives are parking, no doorman, and only two bedrooms. A lot of buyers these days have families and are looking for three, so that narrows your pool some. If it had three bedrooms, I think it would be an easy low-sevens sale.” She peered at him suspiciously. “When are you going to make your decision? I might have several people who would be interested.”
“Soon, Jodie. In the next week or so. Listen, I really appreciate your stopping in and looking at the place. I promise that if I list it, it’ll be with you.”
“You’re starting to sound like a guy who isn’t going to sell his place, Jeffrey. Different from on the phone,” she said, calling him on what she was sensing.
“No, not at all. It’s just that I want to know where I stand. I’m really leaning towards selling it. I didn’t haul you out here to waste your time. I promise,” he said. To his ear the assurance seemed worth about as much as a gambler’s IOU.
She nodded, the exchange all part of the frog-kissing game. “I’ll keep the photos in my phone, then. A week, you say?”
“Yes. I just need to do some soul searching and confirm it’s really the right step. I inherited it, so it’s all kind of sudden.”
“I see. Did someone die in here?” she asked suspiciously.
“No. Nothing like that. No murders or suicides.”
“It would be disclosable, you know.”
“Sure. But nothing bad happened here. You have my word.”
“All right. Whatever you say. I hope you don’t think me rude, but if we’re not going to list this immediately, I’d just as soon get going…”
“Of course. I’ll be with you in a second,” he said, taking a final glance around the living room.
“No need. I can find my own way out. Call me when you reach a decision.”
The door closed behind her and Jeffrey was left to his thoughts. He wandered absently through the condo again, noting the elements he liked about it, probing like a tracking hound for any hint of his brother’s aura. Nothing. Just a collection of rooms with his brother’s stuff in it.
Back in the car, he cranked the engine over and pulled away from the curb, calculating what to do next. The reality was that the condo was fine — more than fine — and he could decide to sell it whenever he liked. If he took over the mortgage, his payment would be more than affordable, especially with his new prosperity, and the equity he would be inheriting would simply increase over time. From a logical standpoint, it solved a host of problems, and he didn’t need to make any permanent decisions — if things didn’t work out, he could move and be rid of it in no time.
Damn. He’d completely forgotten about Becky since getting caught up in his move. She still had some of Keith’s stuff, and he’d promised to call. So much for honoring his commitments.
He went through his phone book until he found her number, and listened as the phone rang and then went to voice mail. At the beep, he left a brief message.
“Becky. It’s Jeff. Jeffrey Rutherford. Listen, I’m in town, and I wanted to see if you could get together, or if I could stop by and pick up that box. Give me a call,” he said, and then left his cell number. He debated as he drove, and then placed another call. Monica answered, her voice a welcome sound.
“Hey. I just wanted to let you know I won’t be staying at the hotel much longer.”
“Congratulations! You found a place. Whereabouts is it?”
“It’s complicated, but the location is awesome.”
He told her the story as he drove, and by the time he arrived back at the office he’d made up his mind.
Jodie wouldn’t be getting the listing. At least, not yet.
The clients arrived and one of his subordinates showed them to the conference room while Jeffrey put the final touches on his proposal. He was just walking towards his office door when his cell rang, and he stopped in and scooped it up, then answered impatiently as he glanced at the time.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice was unfamiliar. Tentative.
“Yes, how may I help you?” he asked.
“You called and left a message on Becky’s phone.”
“Yeah. I’m a friend. Who is this?” he asked, hoping that she’d get to the point before the sun set.
“Her sister. She had an accident. I don’t know how well you knew her…”
Knew her?
“Not that well. What happened? Is it serious?” Jeffrey asked, his attention now fully devoted to the call.
“About as serious as it gets. She was run down by a hit-and-run driver last week. I’m afraid she’s dead.”
SEVENTEEN
Random Chance
That evening Jeffrey and Monica ate dinner at one of her favorite restaurants and then went over to the condo to look it over. Monica declared it perfect, and it seemed like the matter was settled — he’d spend a few days putting Keith’s stuff into storage, keep most of the furniture, and then have the moving company deliver his things, leaving the bulk of his furniture to be stored with them. There were only a few items he really cared about, anyway — his clothes, his bed, his books, some personal effects. The rest could stay in storage. The condo was fully outfitted, so other than one long day boxing up everything he wanted gone, it would be painless.
Jeffrey hadn’t shared with Monica the bad news about Becky, but he seemed preoccupied, and she eventually dug it out of him on the ride back to the hotel.
“It’s just so… terrible. I mean, her whole world gets turned upside down when my brother dies, and then some drunk mows her down only a few days later. I don’t know. It just seems so… such a waste. So cruel,” he said.
“I’m so sorry, Jeffrey. Were you close?”
“No. I just saw her at the service, and had met her once before. That’s it. But she was so… so vital and immediate. So alive, even distraught over my brother. And then, just like that, she’s dead. None of it makes any sense. It’s just so random. I think that’s the part that drives me a little crazy. You cross the wrong street, or get on the wrong plane, and poof. Game over, just like that. We spend our lives thinking if we do the right things, exercise, eat right, whatever, that we have some control, but reality is that it’s all completely up to chance.”