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was built on the site of its predecessor, and includes several of the old oak doors and some other fixtures that survived the prior court house’s fire. It sits in the center of town. As I entered the building, I detected what I always think of as the smell of history. It’s a mix of musty books, worn hardwood floors, and the stacks of files that sit atop old filing cabinets.
    As I looked through the records for the homes Harry had appraised, I said a silent thank you to Uncle Gordon’s mother. While none of the seven houses were built in the early 20th century, many other houses in town are that old. If Uncle Gordon’s mother hadn’t shut those old oak doors, it would have made title searches tough for those properties. Unclear titles can reduce prices and thus agent commissions. You idiot, you aren’t selling real estate now.
    I concentrated harder on what I was doing. Harry Steele had supported the prices of six of the seven homes, so I paid special attention to that seventh sale. He had believed the sales contract was for more than the house was worth, and he seemed to have the comps to prove it. There were a couple of really nasty faxes in his file from the real estate agent, none other than Lester Argrow. “If you’d spent more than 20 minutes in this town you’d know the Marino’s house is worth a helluva lot more than $228,000.”
    When Harry stuck to his guns, with a much more polite reply, Argrow had fired back, “Next time I’ll get a professional appraiser. You don’t know your ass from your elbow.” Perhaps that is what passes for professional real estate talk in Ocean Alley.
    In the end, the sellers had come down $15,000 in price, since no bank would write a mortgage for more than a house is worth. This reduced Lester’s commission. Probably there had been no other offers and the sellers realized Harry was right. They appeared to have a better grasp of anatomy than Lester did.
    Now that I was working, even though I had not been paid yet, I felt better about life. I had a reason to get up in the morning other than to feed Jazz or respond to my own hunger pangs. I even considered an evening run along the boardwalk. It would be 50 degrees at about seven o’clock, and since Jersey was still on daylight savings time, it would not be pitch dark. I try not to be unreasonably concerned about safety stuff, but I’m not stupid, despite not having wondered about the amount of time my husband said he spent with clubs or clients when he was actually in casinos.
    I stopped back at Harry’s to drop off the three files I’d reviewed that day. It had taken me the better part of the day because of the time I’d spent at the courthouse to look at some more sales that were similar to the house Harry had found was overvalued. I wanted to form my own opinion, and it was that Harry was right to stick to his guns.
    Harry was applying extra coats of paint to the new porch boards, apparently trying to get them to look the same color as the repainted older boards. Would never happen. “Hey, you still at it?”
    Duh .
    “Getting ready to close the old paint can for the day,” he said. “What did you think?” He nodded toward the files I was carrying.
    He must have figured I would really dig into the Marino’s house sale. “I think Lester Argrow won’t bring you any more business, but if you let people know that, you might get some from other agents.”
    He laughed. “I won’t call him again, that’s for sure. You can, if you want, of course,” he said, genially.
    Since I wasn’t up for turning away any business, I thought I might use Ramona’s name to get my foot in the door with him. What did I care if he called me names?
    He stuck his paint brush in an old can that held turpentine or some other foul-smelling stuff. “I got a call today about another house. Thought you might want to tackle it.”
    Who would have thought I’d get an adrenalin rush from the chance to appraise a house, I who had negotiated