“I get it.” Seth laughed as he held up his hand in mock surrender. “We’ll get a full inventory later. Right now, a broad picture is fine. The client I have in mind is looking for move-in ready, so selling it furnished would definitely be a plus.” He leaned back in his chair. “If you’re ready to list with me, let’s draw it up. I’ll call my client from the car on the drive back and I’ll let you know what he says.”
Jill pretended to consider it, though there wasn’t much choice. None of the other agents she’d contacted had even bothered to respond to her inquiry. So it was fortunate for her that Seth seemed like he knew what he was doing.
”What about pricing?” Seth folded his hands on the table. “Do you have a number in mind?”
Enough to clear the mortgage, Jill thought, but she didn’t want to appear desperate. Instead, she said, “I’d like to know what you think.”
“Okay.” He pulled a report from his bag and showed it to Jill. “After you called, I did some preliminary research, pulling comparables from the area. This house is unusual for the location, more in line with inventory much further north, like the Hamptons.”
She’d done her own research and Seth’s report confirmed her findings: this house didn’t belong in a sleepy town like Dewberry Beach. They studied Seth’s report, arriving at a price that would attract a larger pool of buyers. Still, the number was high compared to neighborhood homes.
“Selling it quickly is more important to me than making a huge profit,” Jill told him. “Should we go lower?”
“Believe it or not, if I list it any lower, buyers will think there’s something wrong with it and they’ll stay away,” Seth said. “I’ve seen it before. So no, I don’t think so.”
Jill glanced at the listing price again. It was more money than she had ever seen before, but the mortgage would take up most of it. So Jill signed the listing.
A few hours after they’d arrived, their business was concluded, and Jill’s house was listed.
“Your neighbors,” Seth asked as he and Sheri rose to pack up their things. “What do they think about this house?”
“What do they think of it?” Jill echoed.
“Dewberry Beach is a small town,” Seth pointed out as he shouldered his bag. “We both know this house is a bit… large for the neighborhood. I’m just wondering if you’ve heard anything or know their feelings toward it?”
“One disgruntled neighbor can destroy a closing, especially if they’re well connected to local politicians,” Sheri added. “Remember that property over in Sag Harbor? How hard it was to close? We had to get court approval for everything, even the inspection. Added months to the closing.”
“I remember,” Seth groaned. “That was awful. Just a few vocal neighbors can scare off buyers who don’t want trouble. We almost lost that Sag Harbor sale entirely.” He straightened as they headed for the door. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a great house and you’ve offered it at a bargain price. It should go quickly.”
After they left, Jill let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was true that this house was wildly out of scale compared to those around it and probably shouldn’t have been built at all. But the time to object was before it was built, not before it was sold. For whatever reason, the town had allowed Marc to build this house, and its residents had no right to complain about a change of ownership afterward.
Their dispute was with Marc, not with her.
Sixteen
It was time to leave Dewberry Beach.
With the listing agreement signed and the house properly staged, there was nothing to keep her here. Jill blew out the scented candle, straightened the chairs, and gathered the green apples from the bowl. She made her way upstairs, closing the windows and drawing the shades as she went. She’d leave the quilts on the beds and the towels in the bathrooms, figuring the house would show better that way. Securing a listing with an agent was a huge step forward, and Seth’s comments about having a buyer already in mind lifted much of the worry from her shoulders.
On impulse, she grabbed a towel and headed for one of the guest rooms. She would celebrate with a long, hot shower and a fresh change of clothes. Afterward, she felt more like herself. The next step was to find a job, so on her way out of town, she planned to telephone temp agencies from her car to follow up on leads. As Jill stuffed her dirty clothes back into her suitcase, she felt something in a jeans pocket and remembered the card she’d taken from the bulletin board at the deli. She dug it out and smoothed away the creases, reading the notice again.
It was probably nothing. Or, if it wasn’t nothing, the job had probably been filled already.
But what if it hadn’t? What if they were still looking for someone? What an opportunity that would be.
Jill stood and stared at the card, wondering if she should call—just to see. Her cell phone chirped to signal an incoming email. She pulled it from her pocket and unlocked the screen, uneasy to see two separate messages from the bank that serviced her mortgage.
Dear Customer,
This letter is to inform you that, per your request, we have made a change to your account. If you did not authorize this change, please contact us immediately.
That one was no big deal. The judge had helped Jill change her name from Goodman to DiFiore, and Phyllis had helped her file the paperwork with the bank.
She skimmed the second email with a renewed sense of dread.
Dear Ms. DiFiore,
This letter is to inform you that property taxes are due on October 30 for the property you hold in Dewberry Beach. Please
