He breathes out hard. “Jesus. Why didn’t they disclose that?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve already spoken to my office manager about it. He’s reaching out to the listing agent’s manager, and I can guarantee you there’ll be hell to pay.” I lower my voice just a touch, though I’m alone in my house, with only the sound of a neighbor’s lawn mower in the distance. “Look, there are a lot of agents out there who would push this deal through, earn their commission, and leave you to handle the fallout. But that’s not how I work.”
“I really appreciate that. Trying to litigate this would be a nightmare right now. Do you need me to do anything? Sign any paperwork?”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” I tell him.
“You’re the best, Meg. Thanks for looking out for me.”
I disconnect the call and draft a quick email to the listing agent. I did my best, but unfortunately, my client decided not to make an offer after all. I hit Send and lean back in my chair, satisfied with how well this first part went. I’ve gotten everything I wanted from our initial excursion, the most important being that Ron now believes I will protect his interests over my own. This will make it easier for him to take my advice later.
Patience and trust.
Kat
July
Yoga turns into a weekly thing, which then turns into brunch afterward with Meg’s friend Veronica.
“You’re in the best hands,” Veronica always says, anytime the conversation turns toward my house hunt. “She’ll find you something great.”
One morning, we’re lingering over the remains of lunch, empty plates scattered around us, when Veronica asks, “Why the long engagement, Kat?”
Her question feels like a test. Meg had just finished telling us a story about how someone once tried to break in to the car where she’d been sleeping, and Veronica had told us about the time her husband, David, got a DUI. Women forge friendships around shared confidences, and in order to stay on the inside, I need to give them one of my own. Scott’s voice in my head warns me. Nothing personal. Not your parents’ names, or even the name of your childhood dog.
Here’s the thing about the truth—it makes everything surrounding it seem like the truth as well. One tiny fact—one true thing—can spread out and legitimize all the lies I’ve told. “Scott used to have a gambling problem,” I say, hardly believing I’ve said the words out loud. But as I say them, I know it was the right decision, because I feel them drawing nearer, lowering their own walls. Being vulnerable is the fastest way to connect with another person. “Mostly online stuff. But we worked through it, and he’s two years in recovery. So we’re taking our time with the wedding. Letting things gel before shaking them up again.”
Meg looks concerned. “Is your aunt’s inheritance a problem for him?”
Veronica chimes in. “Aunt? Inheritance?”
I quickly fill Veronica in on Aunt Calista, legal superstar and benefactor to her struggling niece. Then I turn to Meg and say, “Large amounts of money aren’t really a trigger for Scott,” I riff. “It’s more the adrenaline of winning that gets him. But he’s been working the program, and we have some really strong guardrails in place. It would have been easy for me to quit, to walk out, but he got me through something really tough a long time ago and it would’ve been hypocritical of me not to stand by him. He’s a good person, and a hard worker. I believe in him.”
Meg’s eyes are wistful. “I love a good redemption story.”
The conversation moves on, but I’m stuck on what I’ve revealed, trading something true about myself in exchange for a sliver of Meg’s trust. It was a calculated risk, but I had to take it.
***