I Still Dream About You

The Beauty and the Beast

MAGGIE WAS STILL IN A FAIRLY GOOD MOOD WHEN SHE GOT TO the office, until Ethel said, “The Beast just called and said she’s coming to see you at eleven. Happy Halloween.”

“What? To see me?”

“Yes, lucky you.”

Maggie moaned, “Oh, no.” Babs was the very last person in the world she wanted to see, but she knew that Babs had shown her condo at Avon Terrace a few days ago, so she was probably bringing in an offer on the two-bedroom unit that was just like hers. That was the good news; the office could use the commission. The bad news was that Brenda had gone to another political rally, which meant that Maggie was going to have to deal with Babs all by herself. Babs would fight you down to the nub on every point, so she braced herself for a bumpy ride.

At eleven A.M. on the dot, Babs arrived and as always, forgoing the customary friendly “hello”s and “how are you”s, she sat down and pulled out the papers and pushed them across the desk. “It’s a good offer, no contingencies, and they qualify.” Maggie looked it over, and Babs was right; it was a good offer. But when Maggie read the buyers’ names, Tom and Carole Troupe, she realized they were the same couple Dottie had shown the unit to a few times before, most recently on Monday. Babs had a nasty habit of stealing clients by cutting her commission, and she was obviously trying to do it again. Oh Lord, Maggie didn’t want to get in a fight with her, but she felt she had to say something. So, she asked as pleasantly as possible, “Is this a co-listing?” Babs looked straight back at her and without blinking an eye said, “No.”

“I see, but… what about Dottie Figge?”

“What about her?”

“Aren’t these her clients?”

“No.”

“Ah well, I don’t know if they told you or not, but she showed them the same unit at least three or four times.”

“So?”

“Well, she did spend a lot of time with them, and I think she was sort of counting on this commission.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Oh, I know, but in all fairness, Babs, she did show it to them first.”

“What’s your point?”

“Well, couldn’t you see your way to at least giving her two percent?”

Babs glared at Maggie. “Are you trying to tell me how to run my business?”

“No, of course not, I was just thinking that-”

“Look, I’m busy-if you don’t want to present the offer, fine. I’ll just go directly to the owner and tell them their listing agent is trying to block the sale.”

“I’m not blocking the sale, Babs. It’s just that I don’t feel right about cutting her out all together.”

“Why? It’s no skin off your nose. You still get your commission.”

“I understand that, but it really puts me in a bad position. Dottie is a friend; we were in the Miss Alabama Pageant together and-”

Babs exploded: “Oh, get over yourself. Dottie Figge is an idiot, and nobody cares about all that stupid beauty-pageant crap! Wake up and smell the roses, honey: the world has moved on. Are you going to present the offer or not?”

Maggie was shocked by Babs’s sudden outburst; speechless, she just stared at her. After a moment, Babs rudely snapped her fingers at her and said, “Hello, Miss Alabama, anybody home? I’m busy. Yes or no?”

Maggie felt something very hot slowly rising up inside her, and her cheeks began to burn bright red. Then she heard a strange voice she had never heard before in her life saying, “Now, wait a minute, you can say anything you want about me, but you say one more word about the pageant, and I’ll knock your block off… you… you… person!”

At that moment, Maggie looked down and realized that she had actually made a fist and was at present shaking it across the desk at Babs. Good Lord, she thought. How had that happened? She had never made a fist in her life. Babs looked at her like she was something that had just dropped out of a tree and said, “You must be nuts,” picked up the offer, walked out, and slammed the door behind her.

Maggie just sat there, with her cheeks still burning bright red, stunned that she had actually yelled at someone. Oh dear, had she really said “knock your block off”? How embarrassing. She had never said anything like that in her life. Where had that come from? Some bad movie she must have seen as a child, she guessed. Just then, Ethel stuck her head in. “What was that all about? Her Beastliness just flounced out of the door in a snit; what happened?”

Maggie looked up and said, “I don’t know.”

She really didn’t know what had set her off. Was it because Babs had called Dottie an idiot? Or the condescending way she had called her “honey”? Or had it been how Babs had said “Miss Alabama” in that sneering way? She wasn’t sure, but now she was worried. She had shaken her fist, and Babs might file a police report saying she had threatened her with bodily harm, which, of course, she had. Oh, Lord! That’s all she needed, to be arrested right now. She was going to have to call Babs and apologize and try to keep herself out of jail. Oh, why had she promised Brenda she would go to see the Whirling Dervishes? If she had jumped in the river when she had wanted to, this never would have happened. God, what next?

A frantic hour later, Babs finally answered her cell phone.

“Yes?”

“Babs? Is that you?”

“Who is this?” Babs snapped in her usual charm-free way.

“It’s Maggie.”

A long silence, then an even colder, if at all possible, “What?”

“Babs, I am so sorry for speaking to you the way I did. Please accept my apology. All I can say is I guess I’ve been under too much stress lately with the market and-”

“Spare me the details. Are you going to accept the offer or not?”

“Yes, of course.”

After Maggie hung up, she decided she would give Dottie the commission money out of her savings in advance and just say it was from Babs.

THAT NIGHT, WHEN Maggie got into bed, she was relieved that she had been able to smooth it over with Babs, and thank heavens she hadn’t run her over that day when she had crossed the street in front of her. She closed her eyes. Then suddenly, another thought popped up. On the other hand, now that she was leaving for good, if she were to just happen to “accidentally” run over Babs Bingington… it really wouldn’t be murder. It would be one of those random acts of kindness everyone was always talking about. She would simply be doing the other real estate agents in town a little favor before she left, as a sort of goodbye gift. And like Brenda said, the police would probably never find out who had done it, and even if they did, she would be long gone by then. It was something to think about.

As she lay there, she started to think of all the things you could do if you didn’t have to worry about the consequences. It was so freeing, really; knowing you didn’t have to worry about the future anymore. It opened up endless possibilities. She suddenly felt sort of reckless, or devil-may-care. She hadn’t planned on this. Who knew that jumping in the river could be so liberating.