I Still Dream About You

Meanwhile, Back in New York

AS THE DAY WORE ON, THE MORE DAVID THOUGHT ABOUT HIS conversation with Maggie, the more he began to frown. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew something was not right. Maggie had not said one word against the other real estate woman, but just the tone of her voice had told him volumes about this Babs person. At around three-thirty, he picked up the phone and called the lawyer downstairs again.

“Hey, Alex, have we signed a contract with that real estate woman in Birmingham?”

“Just getting ready to, why?”

“Don’t.”

“Why? We checked her out; everyone said she’s the top agent in town.”

“Maybe… but not for this property. I want you to go with somebody else on this, okay? I want you to use Margaret Fortenberry at Red Mountain Realty. She knows the house and the neighborhood, and she’ll do a good job. Okay?”

“Well… okay… you’re the boss. Whatever you want, but I can tell you, that Bingington gal is not going to be happy. She just sent us a great proposal; she’s cutting her commission and giving us a great deal.”

David continued, “And listen, when you do speak to Margaret, tell her you checked her out, and you heard that she was the best agent in Birmingham. And tell her we want her to handle the sale personally. Okay?”

Alex sighed. “All right, but she’s not going to be happy.”

After David’s call, Alex pulled out Babs Bingington’s real estate contract on the Dalton house in Birmingham and looked it over. He dreaded making the call and toyed with the idea of just e-mailing her. He had not mentioned it to his boss, but the last time they’d spoken, she had more or less promised him a “good time” if he ever came to Birmingham, and he had sort of gone along with it. Under the circumstances, he decided it would be the gentlemanly thing to tell her over the phone, so he reluctantly dialed her number, but her voice mail said she was not available and to leave a message. He didn’t want to leave bad news on her machine, especially over the weekend, so he hung up. Alex decided it was no use trying to call her again today; besides, he had to leave early, so he could get home and take the kids trick-or-treating. He would just wait and call both Babs and this Margaret Fortenberry woman on Monday. Waiting a day wouldn’t hurt anything.

BABS HAD HAD her eye on the Crestview property for some time. One of the construction companies she was getting kickbacks from wanted the lot, and for the last few months, Babs had badgered the owner’s lawyer in New York with a combination of sweet talk, promises, and relentless pressure, until she was finally about to get the listing. She already had the fake couple set to put in an offer.

Of course, Babs knew as soon as they knocked it down, the snooty “over the mountain” historic-house snots would probably kick up a fuss like they always did, but she didn’t care. They were just a bunch of pain-in-the-ass old dinosaurs trying to hang on to the past. They thought those houses were so special, but to her, they were just some old, outdated, falling-down piles of bricks that needed to come down. So screw them and the buggy they rode in on.