Forever Home. Allyson Charles

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СКАЧАТЬ I can make something for the bake sale. Cupcakes.” She liked baking, Ana liked licking the bowl clean, and it would help the kids. All in all, a tidy solution.

      “That isn’t quite what I had in mind. We’ll need a coordinator, a treasurer, a—”

      “Nope, I’ll bake cupcakes. That’s my best offer. Take it or leave it.” She hadn’t become the number one agent at Goldstar Realty by backing down.

      “Fine,” Sandra gritted out. “I’ll put you on the list. Now, about the field trip—”

      “I’ve got to get to work.” Izzy hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. “I’ll see you at the bake sale.” And without waiting for the next guilt trip, she hurried across the crosswalk and to her SUV.

      The high of winning that small battle with the Mothers’ Mafia stayed with her until she stepped inside Goldstar’s office. And met a smirking Tariq.

      He leaned against her desk in the large open-concept office. Sunlight streamed down from the skylights and gilded his dark head like a mini crown. He thought he was the prince of Goldstar Realty, so it seemed fitting he’d look like one. “Hey,” he said and cocked his head in fake sympathy. “Sorry again about needing the drone yesterday. It turns out my client wasn’t ready for the aerial footage of his house after all. You could have used the camera for your project.”

      Sure he was sorry. Tariq had been the number one seller for Goldstar until Izzy had been hired. He didn’t take kindly to being relegated to number two. He took every opportunity to sabotage Izzy.

      She put her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and gave the younger Realtor a bright smile. “No problem. I got some great shots of my own. I know boys like their toys, but I can get the job done the old-fashioned way just fine.”

      His eyes telescoped to pinpricks. Tariq was a good-looking man in his early twenties, but he knew his youth was a disadvantage and hated to be reminded of it. He’d been successful at making clients comfortable with letting someone barely out of college handle their transactions, but he couldn’t beat the trustworthiness of a shrewd single mother.

      “Hey, everyone!” Liz Greenberg, the owner of Goldstar, leaned out of the conference room. “Meeting time. Grab a cup of joe and get your butts in here.”

      Taking her tablet from her purse, Izzy headed for the weekly meeting. She skipped the coffee but zeroed in on the platter of doughnuts sitting in the middle of the conference table. Her boss knew caffeine and sugar were the keys to productivity and kept her real estate agents fully supplied. Along with Tariq and Izzy, three other agents sat around the table, and they all turned to look at their boss, waiting for her to start the meeting.

      “Okay, status updates.” Liz stirred a little tub of creamer into her coffee. “Let’s go around the table.”

      Every week Liz wanted to hear what had sold, what had offers, and what wasn’t moving. If anyone had any tips or help to offer, they did. Aside from her rivalry with Tariq, Izzy had found Goldstar Realty to be a great environment to work in.

      Cindy Perkins started them out. Her latest client hadn’t disclosed a mold problem from five years ago, and she wasn’t having any luck finding a remediation specialist in time for the house to close.

      Tariq spoke up. “I know someone who owes me a favor. I’ll call him for you and he’ll get his company over to your listing tomorrow.”

      Cindy smiled at him gratefully, and Izzy raised an eyebrow. For the agents who weren’t competing with Tariq’s sale numbers, he could be a fairly decent coworker.

      “Well, I have a new client this week,” Tariq said, his turn up next. “They had started working with Izzy but felt that she didn’t have enough time for them, so turned to me.” He lifted one shoulder and tried to look apologetic. “Sorry, Izzy, but I didn’t want Goldstar to lose them.”

      “Who?” Izzy drummed her fingers on the table.

      “The Gilberts.”

      Son of a bitch. That couple had two duplexes they wanted to sell.

      “Thanks for stepping in, Tariq,” Liz said. “We all help each other out when we have to.”

      “Yes, thanks, Tariq.” You lying, scheming snake. Izzy tried to obliterate him with her glare, but his smile only widened.

      “What’s going on with Bob Burker?” Liz asked Izzy. “Have you put together a proposal yet?”

      “The photos I took yesterday are with the printer, and they’ll go in my pitch.” Izzy flipped through the images on her tablet. They really had turned out well, though the drone’s shots would have been better. “Bob is being…well, Bob.”

      Liz nodded sympathetically. She’d known him the longest, after all.

      “I was at his house yesterday morning”—a shiver zipped down Izzy’s spine and she only just stopped herself from making the sign of the cross—“and he’s nervous about whether to list his properties.” More like bat-shit paranoid. She’d known from the first that Bob Burker was a tad quirky. She hadn’t realized until she stepped across his threshold that quirky was just one nut on his crazy-as-crap sundae. His house was so cluttered with stacks and boxes full of paper, she’d worried about being crushed to death if one of the towers toppled over. The man printed out every article he came across that spewed a conspiracy theory and, as far as Izzy could tell, hadn’t thrown a single piece of paper away in over thirty years.

      “He wants to know what he can get for his lots before deciding to sell, and my best guess doesn’t cut it with him. He wants semi-firm offers on the table before signing a listing agreement. He thinks if he makes his intentions public that somehow the government will intervene and take his property.” Izzy blew out a breath. “I’m trying to discreetly come up with a list of potential buyers. I’ll present the proposal to those I think might be interested and see if my asking price is in the ballpark.”

      “Good. I know Bob can be a pain in the ass, but he’s harmless. He ran into some problems with the IRS a couple decades ago and never really got over it.” Liz shrugged. “But he’s used Goldstar for over ten years now. He’s been a good client, so treat him well.” She took a sip of her coffee and checked her phone. “If you can convince him to sell, this will be a huge account for Goldstar. If you need help with anything, ask for it.”

      “I’m more than happy to offer my services.” Tariq jumped in. “We all know how busy you are with your kid’s soccer practices. I can take on some of your caseload.”

      Izzy smiled so sweetly her back teeth hurt. “That’s nice, but completely unnecessary. Even as a single mom, I still manage to get all my work done. But thanks anyway.” She turned her chair away from him and froze. Crap. Ana did have soccer practice that afternoon. And Izzy didn’t have time to go watch. Again. She swallowed down her guilt and concentrated on the rest of the meeting. Ana would understand. She knew her mom had to hustle to make a life for them.

      When the meeting ended, she shot a quick text to her closest friend in town. Lydia was co-owner of Tannert Winery, part of a new breed of wineries cropping up in Michigan. Over a tasting of Tannert’s ice wines, where Lydia poured liberally and Izzy shared the Tcho chocolate bar in her purse, they’d become fast friends. Not only did Izzy now get a lot of free wine, but Lydia had a loose enough schedule to help her out picking up Ana when Izzy СКАЧАТЬ