Little Miss Lovesick (26 page)

CHAPTER 30

I TOSSED and turned all night and woke up at 4:19 a.m. with a pounding headache. I got up and took some aspirin, then went back to bed. By seven, I was feeling a little better, so I got up and got ready for work.

I should’ve stayed in bed.

When I walked into the office, Carmen motioned me over.

“Perry needs to see you, but you better get some coffee first. I got the impression it’s not good.”

I couldn’t remember her ever looking so pensive. That di
d
no
t
give me comfort. GT must’ve called Perry. I wondered what he said that got Perry so upset. Oh, I was not looking forward to this.

I dropped off my things at my desk. In a desperate act to put off the inevitable, I plugged in my laptop and turned it on and unloaded my briefcase. Then I went to the kitchen for coffee.

I stood at the counter for a minute. This was crazy. Yes, it’s my fault, but honestly, Perry knows GT has been extremely difficult to work with.

Which has nothing to do with you yelling at Mat
t
, reminded a Voice.

Oh, boy, how was I going to talk myself out of whatever trouble I was in? No, you know what? I’m just going to face it. I’ll get it over with and the rest of the day is bound to be better by comparison.

I straightened my shoulders in typical hero-going-to-the-gallows fashion and walked straight to Perry’s office. I knocked and went in.

“Morning. I heard you wanted to see me?”

Perry looked up. You’d never know that here sat a man who smiled almost constantly. My stomach twisted.

“Close the door and sit down. Please.”

I complied. At least he said “please.” That’s something.

“I got a call this morning from an attorney for Jim and Lisa Carlton. You sold them a house at 219 S. Chestnut Street on January 19th this year. They said you told them they could put in a pool, but now they’re finding they can’t get a permit for one.”

“I wouldn’t tell someone they could have a pool when they can’t. I don’t think I’d even know if they could or not.” I frowned.

“That’s why it’s called negligence.”

“No, I know. I mean, I don’t give that kind of advice. I offer lots of suggestions, but I always tell people they have to talk to the city about licenses and permits. That’s standard.”

“Well, that’s not what they’re saying. According to the attorney, they passed up a home that had a pool because they liked this one better and you told them they could put a pool in later.”

“So what does all this mean?” Good thing I had a ceramic mug, not a paper cup. I had a death grip on it.

“I called my attorney and he’s looking into it. He doesn’t think they’ll win, but going to court will still cost us a lot of money, win or lose.” Perry looked at me hard.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

“It’s possible we can settle out of court. That means the jackasses get paid just for raising a stink.” The swearing was an indication that he was mad at them, not just me. It made me feel a tiny bit better.

“I’m sorry, Perry. I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say until we hear back from the attorney. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

I took that as my exit and left.

Holy shit, I was being sued
.
Sued
.
I’d never been sued before. I’d never sued anyone else either
.
And I hadn’t even done anything wrong
.
I was sure of it.

I got to my desk somehow. My legs did their thing without me having to think about it. Then I just sat there, staring. I was numb. Then it hit me.

Perry doesn’t know GT fired me.

I slumped over and hit my head on the desk. I wished there was someplace to hide. I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to compose myself. I wiped away the wet streaks on my cheeks and went back to work.

Don’t think. Don’t think about any of it.

Okay, I need to accomplish something today. I need to get something done. If it kills me, I’m going to find someone a house.

I went through the new listings looking for something that might appeal to any of my clients. My eyes caught a Mediterranean-style three-bedroom four blocks from the bay. It might be perfect for that hard-to-please older couple I was working with. Now that would be a good day: find the perfect house for difficult people.

I looked up their number and gave them a ring.

“Hi, Mr. Robertson. This is Sydney Riley from By the Bay Properties. How are you today?”

“Oh, hello, Sydney.”

Something’s not righ
t
, said a Voice.

“I’m calling to let you know there’s a new listing for a home that might be perfect for you. It’s on Wilson Road and has a view of the bay. Would you like to take a drive over there today?”

“Actually, we’ve already seen the house. My wife and I were driving by when the other realtor was putting the sign up. But thanks for calling.”

Trying to get rid of me. Definitely not a good sign.

“What do you think? Do you have some questions I can answer? Would you like to make an offer on it?”

“The other realtor answered all of our questions, so I think we’re all set. But thanks for your help.”

My stomach was working itself into a knot. I’d been working with this couple for a month or more.

“Not what you were looking for, huh?”

“Well, no, it’s fine. It’s just right, in fact. But we already did the paperwork. So…”

I looked at the listing on my computer. Terry Adams. “Did Mr. Adams tell you that you don’t need a realtor?”

“Uh, no. We asked him if he could help us since we were there, and he said he could. In fact, we’re not going to have to pay the full commission since he’s doing the paperwork for both sides.” There was a pause. “It’s business, not personal.”

I took a deep calming breath. It didn’t make me calmer, though. “Mr. Robertson, I can understand your desire to save money when making such a large purchase. But it’s not just business; it’s about business ethics, too. Did Mr. Adams mention that taking another realtor’s clients is an ethical violation?”

“Listen, we’re all set here. Thanks for your help. Goodbye.”

And then the evil sound of the dial tone.

Once again, I found myself sitting speechless at my computer. I looked at the time in the corner of my monitor. Wow, and it wasn’t even eleven yet. What a day. What a freaking brilliant day.

Picking up the phone, I dialed the number on my screen. I was so mad I wasn’t even thinking. Which is probably why I sounded so mean.

“Hi, is this Terry Adams?”

“Yes, it is, how can I help you?” He sounded nice, but I’m sure it was his cover for being an unethical creep.

“This is Sydney Riley at By the Bay Properties. I’m the realtor for the Robertson’s.” I didn’t say anymore.

Pause. Then, “Oh.”

“Are you familiar with ethics, Mr. Adams? The unwritten code that realtors respect each other’s clients and don’
t
poach the
m
?”

“Sydney, I’m sorry. I did ask them if they had a realtor. They said they used to have one, but not anymore. I suspected they weren’t being completely honest, but when I pushed, they said no.”

“So you wrote up a contract and offered them a discount commission so you can sweep in and do both sides.”

“I asked, they said no. I asked again because I’m an ethical guy, and they said no, they’d like me to draw up the papers. What did you want me to do? Call around town?” Now he was beginning to sound mad. And perhaps…understandably.

I knew there was a reason I never liked that couple. I was still furious and had no one to lash out at. And no ice cream, either.

“Sorry. I appreciate you trying.” I tried to force myself to calm down. “Good luck with them.” And good riddance.

“Sorry about that. These things happen to all of us. I had a turn at being on the other side last year.”

I sighed and said goodbye. These things happen. Yeah, and they seem to happen to some of us more than others.

I don’t know how I got through the rest of the day. I was in such a state from the last twenty-four hours that I was afraid to do any important work. What if I wrote up some paperwork wrong? What if I forgot something? What if I put taboo information in the MLS database by mistake? A few months ago, Trent got fined because he put something in the wrong section. It’s crazy.

And I’m being sued for saying the wrong thing. That is, for someon
e
sayin
g
I said the wrong thing.

Maybe I should move back home with my parents. Curl up under the covers and stay there. No dating. No working. No problems.

No way. My parents believe in tough love. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t let me back in just because I wanted to hide from the world. Sucks.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, I'd finished with email, filing, and other non-essential work. I decided to do a little web surfing and take off. Maybe even leave my computer here. Not take work home.

I looked at the clock what I thought was a few minutes later. It was 5:35! How does that happen? Every time I start wandering around the Internet, hours go by. Maybe there’s some kind of hypnosis thing going on. You start reading something, and hit a link, then another link, and soon — they’ve got you! Of course, who and for what reason, I have no idea. I know, I’m mental.

I shut down my computer and picked up my briefcase. It really was much lighter without the laptop in it. I stood up. Leave it or take it? Leave it or take it? I stood next to my desk for a few seconds (probably looking like an idiot), then dropped my briefcase on my chair and began unplugging the stupid computer.

Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Yeah, and when I’m ninety and walk stooped over to the right from carrying this thing around all the time…

An old woman may be the first to be preserved and used as a demonstration to school children and business people, a local taxidermist stated. The idea was raised when an undertaker was unable to fit the woman’s body into a casket because she spent her life carrying a heavy briefcase on one shoulder. Her neck and back grew into a permanent forty-degree angle.

I finally got it all together (physically only, of course) and got out the door. As I pulled my keys out, I looked up to find Dirk lounging against my vehicle.

I don’t know if you can understand this, but I had taken so many hits that I didn’t have anything left when I saw Dirk. I mean, I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t irritated. I was just, you know, there. My day couldn’t get any worse.

I was being sued, after all.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said. Then, “You look like you’ve been hit by a Mack truck. Bad day?”

“You could say that. What’s up?” A serious departure, I know, from “What in the heck are you doing here?”

He looked away and then back at me. “I was thinking, maybe you’d like to get some dinner.”

Was that hesitation I heard? Worse, was I actually considering it?

Hot food, prepared by and cleaned up by someone who is not yo
u
, said a Voice.

“We could drive our own vehicles. I’ll treat, of course.” He waited. “You look like you could use a hot meal.”

I took a deep breath. “Where were you thinking?”

“On a Tuesday night, the Aerie at the Grand Traverse Resort should be quiet. Get a window seat, view of the bay.”

I fiddled with my keys. I couldn’t think anymore today.

“It’s five minutes away. It’ll be nice to unwind.”

All the right words. “Just for a little while.”

He smiled and touched my shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

I unlocked my door, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.

CHAPTER 31

HE DIDN'T say, “I’ll meet you at the top of the Empire State Building at sunset, Valentine’s Day,” but I should have known going to dinner with Dirk would have equally tragic consequences.

The evening started out as a refreshing escape from an otherwise horrible day. We were among the first patrons for dinner, so the service was excellent and the view — breathtaking.

Dirk was charming, attentive, sweet, and funny. The Dirk I remembered from the good days. Thankfully I was too worn out to compare and contrast with the bad days. That kind of study simply wasn’t on my agenda tonight. I just wanted to be treated kindly. Kid gloves.

And I got the royal treatment. We ordered prime rib (whic
h
alway
s
tastes like heaven here) and seafood appetizers. Normally I’m not much of a squash eater, but what came with the meal was to die for. I made Dirk laugh when I pointed at the sunset and exclaimed that it was the same color. By the time we finished eating, I was relaxing and finally in a fairly good mood.

That must’ve been Dirk’s cue.

“You know, Sydney,” he said, playing with his wine glass, “things have gotten really messed up between us and I wanted you to know that I take full responsibility.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I looked out at the bay and didn’t say anything. Somehow life’s problems looked a little hazy around the edges when seen from sixteen stories.

“I love you, and you love me. We belong together.” He paused.

I didn’t give him any sign I’d heard him.

“I want to work this out, fix the problems, and move on.”

I wanted to move on, too.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” he said with a bit of a hopeful tone.

Or it just makes you want to lie down and die.

“Say something. Please.”

I finally looked at him. “Do you know what the fifth stage of grief is?” He didn’t answer. “Acceptance.” I looked at him, trying to figure out who we were, why we were here.

The waiter quietly took our plates. Dirk looked up and smiled at him. Apparently, that’s the cue that you’re allowed to interrupt the conversation.

“Would you like to have some dessert tonight? We have a dark chocolate mousse torte with swirls of fudge and raspberry sauce as well as our usual dessert menu.”

Dirk raised his eyebrows in my direction and smirked. He’d never seen me pass up a chocolate dessert.

“Yes?” he said.

“Yes,” I said with a small smile.

“Two of the chocolate tortes, please. And I’ll have a—”

“Dirk!”

He laughed. “You aren’t ordering two?” He turned back to the waiter. “That’s it.”

“We have to at least try them before ordering seconds,” I said, grateful to him for lightening the mood.

“Oh, yes, right, how silly of me.”

We laughed. This really was rather nice. I wondered if w
e
coul
d
start over. He must’ve seen a more serious look on my face because he picked up the conversation where he left off.

“I don’t think anyone is given enough warning about how hard life will be. How easy it is to make a mistake that will change everything.”

He folded his linen napkin, arranged his wine and water glasses, brushed some crumbs toward the edge of the tablecloth. “We could start slow, like this. Not even call it dating, if you want. We could have dinner, see a movie.”

Ah, another with the “we’re not really dating” line.

Leave it alon
e
, said a Voice
.
He’s trying to be nice.

Yes, he is. Sorry.

“Can I think about it?”

I’m pretty sure “relief” would characterize his expression. Though he was good about covering it with a drink. I think he was afraid to frighten me off.

“Sure. Take your time.”

Yeah, he sounded relieved. It kind of made me want to say, “Yes, I could try again” right then. The lack of pressure sometimes is exactly what you need to move forward. Isn’t that weird?

Thankfully, the waiter arrived with our desserts before an uncomfortable silence could ensue. The first bite was heavenly. I think it eased us out of the serious conversation and back to more neutral topics. About halfway through, I excused myself for the ladies’ room.

I know it’s silly, and maybe old-fashioned, and maybe just a show and not sincere, but Dirk stood when I stood. I really kinda liked it.

In the bathroom, I looked in the mirror when I washed my hands. How do you feel, girl in the mirror? Are you doing the right thing? I smiled a little and looked away. Maybe mistakes can be forgiven, even if they’re the “I don’t love you anymore; I love her” type of mistake.

I smiled in anticipation as I walked back to the table. I guess it worked out that Matt and I never really got a relationship started. Maybe my ability to forgive Dirk and move on was a sign that we could build a long-term love.

Of course, you wouldn’t even be her
e
, said a Voice
,
if Matt were still talking to you.

As I walked toward our table, I saw a woman talking to Dirk. He laughed at something she said and she leaned closer. She was tall and willowy (seriously, I’m not making that up) with long, dark, satin hair. Absolutely stunning.

As I got closer, I saw her pass a business card to Dirk. He glanced at it and put her card in his pocket. She looked up and caught my eye. She said something to Dirk, who looked up at me with a brightly innocent expression. Then the woman walked carelessly away.

I know. It sounds like something out of movie. (My whole life is a series of the worst movie scenes ever.) When I got to the table, Dirk was looking decidedly uncomfortable. And red in the face. I just looked at him, not believing and completely believing what I thought I saw.

“I don’t know her.” He stumbled over the words.

I raised my eyebrows.

“She just came over and started talking to me. I swear. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“She gave you her card. With her phone number on it.”

“I wasn’t going to be rude. I’ll toss it when I get home. Don’t make this into something else, Sydney. I’m not leaving you for another woman again.”

I stood there with my hand on the back of my chair, tapping my foot, trying to think. I picked up my purse.

“You’re right. You’re not.”

“Syd, don’t go.” He never called me Syd. “Sit down and finish your dessert.”

“I can’t spend my life wondering if it’s okay to go to the bathroom.” I sighed. “Goodbye, Dirk.”

And just that quietly, I walked away. No scene. No turmoil. They say you can see your life flash before your eyes when you’re dying. I think I saw a flash, but it must have been my spirit dying because I managed to drive myself home just fine.

I TOSSED and turned all night. Again. I dreamed I was a prisoner in a desert camp. I escaped from my cell, but as I was getting away, they saw me and started chasing me. They never caught me, but I never got away either. Just one long chase. I hate those dreams. They’re really nightmares except they don’t have anything particularly scary in them. They just fill you with a sense of dread.

I woke up about four to go to the bathroom. I felt horrible. I fell back into bed and went right back to sleep. Right back to the horrible dreams.

I woke up again around 7:30 and groaned when I looked at the clock. I really didn’t feel good.

At 10:17, I rubbed my eyes open and tried to figure out why it looked so dark in my room. The clock must be wrong. I went to the bathroom, then peeked through the curtains when I went back to bed. Looked like it was going to storm. Pretty dark out.

Like how I fee
l
, said a Voice.

I lay under the covers, curled around a pillow trying to figure out if I was getting up. I didn’t feel good. In fact, I felt downright rotten. Must’ve been something I ate.

You’re not sic
k
, said a Voice.

I really don’t feel good. My stomach hurts.

Your stomach doesn’t hurt; your heart hurt
s
, said the Voice.

My head hurts, too.

You’re not sick. You’re sad. You’re heartsick.

I’m sick. I’m going to call in sick to work. I’ll lay in bed the rest of the day, eat chicken soup, and then I’ll feel better.

Chicken soup won’t make you feel bette
r
, said the Voice
.
It didn’t make you feel better last time.

I reached for the phone on the nightstand and dialed the office. Carmen picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Carmen, it’s Sydney. I’m not coming in today. I’m really sick.”

You’re lyin
g
, said the Voice.

I’m not lying. I feel awful.

“Oh, hon, you sound awful.”

See? Told you.

“Can you let Perry know? And take my calls?”

“No problem. Do you want to forward your cell here for the day?”

“Mm, that sounds good. When I can get out to wherever I left it, I will. If you think about, will you email me at the end of the day and remind me to un-forward it?”

“No problem. You just get some sleep and take care of yourself.”

I hung up and went back to sleep. Thankfully, the awful dreaming was over. I just closed my eyes and it was like turning out the lights.

It was afternoon when I finally really woke up. My growling stomach was the villain. I thought I was going to die I was so hungry.

Told you you weren’t really sic
k
, said the Voice.

I splashed cold water on my face. My eyes were all gritty and hurt as if I had fallen asleep crying. But I hadn’t.

You probably cried in your sleep.

I was too tired and to
o
sic
k
to have a conversation with myself. Today, my plan was to ignore everyone and everything and feel better.

In the kitchen, I found my cell phone and remembered to forward my calls to the office. The little envelope was flashing showing I had new voice mails, but I decided to check them after I ate.

I found a can of chicken and rice soup and added more rice to it. When it was hot, I took a small bowl of it into the living room and sat down on the couch in front of the TV. I flipped through channels aimlessly. I love not having to share the remote.

Pillow Tal
k
was on, so I dropped the remote and ate my soup. When that movie ended
,
Bringing Up Bab
y
came on. By then, I was curled up on the couch with my pillow and my softest blanket. I fell asleep in the middle o
f
Bab
y
. The reason I know this is that I woke up with a jolt when thunder crashed over my head.

Oh, I hope it rains. Soon. The rest of the night. I always sleep so soundly when it’s raining. I couldn’t tell what movie was playing, so I flipped the channels and came upo
n
How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days
.
I love that movie. I own it, but I’ll watch it if it’s on, even if there are commercials.

At the next commercial break, I went in the kitchen and opened the freezer. Ooo, breaded mushrooms. I’d forgotten about those. I turned on the oven and dumped the whole boxful on a pan. (It’s not like it was that big a box.) I stuck the tray in without waiting for the oven to warm up and opened the fridge. After staring at everything, I pulled out a stick of string cheese and a strawberry-kiwi Snapple.

I returned to the couch and watched the movie. When the mushrooms were done, I dove in. I’ve had better in restaurants, but these were good. I got so caught up in the movie, I’d eaten the entire pan of breaded mushrooms before I realized it. I cried when Andie got all mushy about how Ben’s family dotes on her. I cried again when those nasty girls (who remind me of the Siamese cats i
n
Lady and the Tram
p
) trick the guys into telling Andie about the bet.