“And why do you say that?” Henry asks with eerie calm.
“Because my grandparents wanted to get the house painted and change the bathroom and, I don’t know … other stuff. You know, because people do that when they sell their house and want to get more money for it.”
“They do.” There’s a hint of humor in Henry’s tone, as if he’s amused that she, a fifteen-year-old girl, feels the need to explain this to him, a thirty-two-year-old billionaire business tycoon.
“Then why has Barbara been talking them out of it? She said it would go fast without any of that done.”
“She might be right. I didn’t go into the house so I can’t say. It’s a nice area, and the house is on a cul-de-sac. It’s likely in high demand.”
“No, that’s not it.” Violet shakes her head. “The person who wants to buy the house is Barbara’s sister.”
“Her sister.” That has piqued Henry’s interest.
Violet straightens her back, seemingly emboldened. “Yes. And a few months before my mom died, Barbara brought her sister over and they were walking all over the house, looking at things. I don’t think they knew I was there. I overheard them talking about moving walls and stuff. And then she shows up yesterday with this offer before the house is even on the market, and Barbara keeps telling my grandparents how stressful putting a house on the market is, and how her sister is willing to buy it as is.” Violet grips the fork in her hand. “It feels like they were just waiting for my mother to die so they could take it from us.”
I’m beginning to see why Violet acted out. She’s not wrong to be suspicious. Why else would Audrey’s best friend be touring the house with her sister, talking about renovations, unless she had plans to buy it even then? How long have they been planning this? Like Henry said, it’s a charming house in a cul-de-sac, in a nice, quiet neighborhood.
“Is that allowed? Selling your client’s house to your family member?” I ask instead of voicing my other questions.
“Agents are supposed to protect their clients. That’s hard to do when both the buyer and the seller are their clients, and that might be the case here.”
“And the buyer’s her sister,” I emphasize.
“Exactly. She’s more likely to work for her best interests than Audrey’s.” Henry strums his fingers across the table. “I don’t like the sound of it.”
“No,” I agree.
“See?” Violet throws her hands up in the air. She hesitates. “You’re the big-shot businessman. Do you think my grandparents should take the offer?”
“What’s the offer?” Henry asks.
Violet shrugs. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does. At fair value is a good offer, and one without any conditions attached is a great deal if there are issues that an inspection will turn up.”
Violet seems to shrink with his words, her second of hope deflating.
“What did your grandparents say when you told them about what you overheard?” I ask.
“They said that I must have misunderstood. They’ve known Barbara her whole life, and she would never do something like that. But I know what I heard.” She watches Henry, and I don’t miss the silent request there.
Was this her plan when she ran to New York? To gather up the courage to seek out her rich and powerful father and ask for his help without actually asking for his help? Obviously, she didn’t anticipate us showing up at the diner, but she recovered quickly.
“We wouldn’t want to see Howard and Gayle taken advantage of.” I find myself holding my breath too, waiting for Henry to do what he does best: take control.
Henry bites his bottom lip in thought. “The first step is to understand what the house is worth on the market, so we know if what this agent is coming to them with is fair.”
“Okay …” I prod, trying to convey my pleas with my eyes. Come on, Henry, do the right thing here. Get involved.
He twists his lips in thought. “I have a guy. I trust him to get us a good number. I will make the call. But only”—he holds up a finger as if to hit pause—“if you go back to your grandparents, apologize for taking off the way you did, and promise me that you’ll stop causing them stress.”
Violet purses her lips together as her head bobs.
The waitress appears then with our coffees. “Some breakfast for you two today?” she asks, sparing Violet’s mauled plate of food a glance.