DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE Read Online Free PDF Page A

man needs cash!”
    Jean started to say, “This woman, too,” but it felt wrong to call herself a woman. Stan’s years in the Marine Corps supported Stan’s claim. Was it Theresa calling her “child” or her dependence on the others in this office that made her feel not yet a woman?
    “Me, too,” she said, matching his grin.
    Stan’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t expected her to get a listing any more than she had.
     
     
    Two hours later, Jean had put Stan’s listing in the computer, saving him, as he said, “about twenty-four hours of bad typing.” She took her first deep breath of the morning. Thousands of Realtors could now read the words she had entered into the system. Pictures for the internet would have to wait until the painting was done.
    It was not a moment to rush. She sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the office copies run from the printer. Then the inevitable doubt set in. The Board allowed twenty-four hours to enter the listing. Should she have waited for Theresa’s or Ed’s approval? The excitement of telling Theresa—and everyone else—began to feel more like anxiety.
    She knew Stan had no such doubts.
    “You’re so lucky, you know, to have your Mom and Dad,” she said.
    Stan looked up from his struggle to write an ad for Sunday’s paper and gave her an inquiring look.
    “Tough being on your own?”
    “I have Theresa.”
    “Screw Theresa. Bitch. You have Ed. Use him.”
    “Use him for what?” said a resonant voice from the reception room.
    Ed entered the sales room looking much more presentable than yesterday in a neat charcoal black suit, pale blue shirt and blue and silver tie. He looked more rested, too, but the worry lines around his eyes never went away. His pleasant personality sometimes seemed to Jean like a coat of paint over a worn building.
    “For an old house, that front door is damn quiet, Ed.”
    “True, m’boy. Wouldn’t do to greet clients with a squeak, now would it?” He looked from one to the other. “Something’s up and it’s got to be good.”
    “Listing!” they exclaimed simultaneously.
    “Great! Who?” He looked from one to the other.
    “Both!” Jean said as Stan pointed one index finger at himself, one at her.
    “Way to go! Hey, Viv!” Ed called.
    Vivian Brumm came to the staff room doorway, a short, plain woman one would call dumpy if it weren’t for the fact that she was very fit, an unfashionable hour-glass figure, the muscles in her arms and legs too prominent for feminine beauty. Jean hadn’t seen her often and had an inclination to dislike her, probably because Theresa obviously did.
    “These kids got listings! Both of ‘em! You were okay, Stan?”
    “Did call Dad,” Stan admitted.
    “And I’m sure you were fine, Jean. Need help putting them in the multiple listing system?”
    “Been there, done that.”
    Jean admired Stan’s dismissive tone. Chutzpah. Wasn’t that the word? No mention that she did it for him.
    “Okay, then. You have to be independent in this business. I guess you got that.”
    Vivian spoke for the first time. Her voice didn’t match her strong body. It was soft, as comforting as her round, pleasant face. She was smiling, but, as always, it was gentle rather than joyous.
    “Congratulations, both of you,” she said. “I understand you’ve already planned for an open house Sunday, Jean.”
    “Yes. Haven’t written the ad yet.”
    “Stan?”
    “Yup. Got to sell this baby myself.”
    Ed looked skeptical.
    “Well, you both have a shot. But don’t count on it, guys. You know the market. You review everything with Jean, Viv. I’ll go over your stuff, Stan.”
    Stan made a messy stack of the many forms and they left for Ed’s office. Vivian sat at Hua’s desk facing Jean.
    “You write the ad, Jean, while I look these over. I’m told you’re pretty good with words. You’re all right being with Harold on Sunday?”
    That bit of insight and sympathy brought a spurt of liking for Vivian. Jean was aware