Moving Can Be Murder (9 page)

A week before the open house, I moved Lucy
and Ethel, along with their food, bowls, toys, blankets, crates,
and doggy snacks, over to Mary Alice’s house. We hadn’t talked much
since her Bunco party outburst, and this gave me a convenient
excuse to catch up with her. Plus, she loves Lucy and Ethel almost
as much as I do. And truth be told, they love her, too. Not as much
as they love me, of course.

The dogs were puzzled by their change of
digs, but once Mary Alice helped me unload all their gear, they
settled right in like it was home. I tried to suppress a pang of
jealousy when Lucy, ignoring me completely, nudged Mary Alice’s arm
as hard as she could, demanding attention. Ethel had already curled
up in her crate for a snooze.

Mary Alice laughed at my reaction. “Don’t
worry, I know I’m just the dog sitter. I won’t steal them from
you.”

“I didn’t realize I was being that obvious,”
I confessed. “I want them to like being here, but…”

“But not as much as being with you,” Mary
Alice finished.

“I’m glad you asked me to take care of the
dogs,” she went on. “I hope it means you forgive me for my behavior
the night of the Bunco party. I don’t know what got into me,
carrying on like that.”

“Since you brought it up, I have been
worried about you,” I answered. “It’s been so crazy trying to get
the house ready to sell that I haven’t called you for a while. But
are you sure you’re OK? Really?”

“You’re one of the few people who know that
Brian and I had a huge fight right before he had his car accident,”
Mary Alice said. “It took a lot for me to admit that to you. I’ve
felt guilty for years that I never had the chance to tell him I was
sorry.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

I covered her hand with mine and gave it a
little squeeze. “You don’t owe me any explanation,” I said.

“I guess I’m trying to explain my behavior
at the Bunco party to myself as much as to you,” Mary Alice
said.

“I’ve been doing pretty well for years, but
being in the emergency room the night that poor hit and run victim
was brought in triggered all sorts of bad memories. And when
Phyllis started carrying on about the hit and run driver being
innocent until proven guilty, I snapped, even though I knew she was
right. She was just so self-righteous about it. I wonder how she’d
feel if someone in her own family died like that.”

She stopped herself just in time. “I’m doing
it again, aren’t I? I’m sorry. It’s just that I can be honest with
you, because you know the whole story. Sometimes I feel that I
killed Brian, because he wasn’t concentrating on his driving after
the awful fight we had.”

Lucy licked Mary Alice’s hand, sensing her
misery.

I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t realized
how much this was eating away at her.

“That’s enough of my self-pity,” she said
abruptly. “Time to change the subject. Are you all set for the open
house? If Nancy wouldn’t freak out, could I stop by and check out
the changes you’ve made? I don’t mean to be nosy.”

“You’re not being nosy,” I said. “That’s a
great idea. You can be my personal set of eyes and ears, since Jim
and I have been banished for the day. And you can be sure that no
one has too much to drink and falls asleep on my bed.”

Mary Alice raised her eyebrows
quizzically.

“You didn’t know? The open house is on St.
Patrick’s Day, and Nancy’s making it into an Irish festival. I
think she’s even serving Irish coffee and Guinness.

“Thank God I talked her out of the step
dancers.”

St. Patrick’s Day dawned with gray skies and
a light drizzle. The house had never looked better. All the clutter
was gone. No photographs of family events decorated the
bookshelves. It looked like a move-in-ready model home. I had to
admit that Marcia the Super Stager knew what she was doing.

Nancy insisted that Jim and I be out of the
house before 9 a.m. “And no parking across the street to keep tabs
on who comes. I’ll give you a complete report later.”

Nancy had done a Realtors’ open house on
Friday, March 16th. According to her, several Realtors had come and
claimed they had clients “who’d be just perfect for this darling
antique house.” She was expecting a big crowd at the public open
house, especially since the advertising had highlighted the fact
that Guinness and Irish coffee would be served. I hoped that no one
got too inebriated that they forgot this was a real estate event
and not a wild party.

I needn’t have worried. At least, not about
that. When My Beloved and I arrived home at 4 p.m., having run out
of places to go to kill time and anxious for a report, Nancy
announced that the open house was a fantastic success.

“People came in droves,” she said. “Of
course, a lot of them were lookie-loos from the neighborhood. They
may give a song and dance story that they’re checking out the
listing for a friend, but Realtors can always tell they just want
to check out someone else’s house.

“I’ve never done an open house that was this
popular. I suppose it could have been the liquor I served. Good
thing Mary Alice showed up to help show people around. Everyone
raved about the house. Marcia did a great job staging it. I know
you don’t like her, but she knows her job.”

Nancy paused for maximum effect.

“So, do you want to know the big news?”

Without giving either Jim or me a chance to
respond, she blurted out, “We had a full-price offer on the house.
Closing in thirty days, subject to standard inspections.

“And the buyer is pre-approved for a
mortgage, so this is the real deal,” she crowed. “I hope you’re
both pleased.”

Pleased? We were in shock.

Worse than that, we were homeless.

Chapter 10

Before marriage, a man will lie awake all
night

thinking about something you said. After
marriage,

he’ll fall asleep before you finish saying
it.

My Beloved insisted that we accept the offer
that very day. He didn’t want to take the chance that the buyer
would change his mind.

“This is a corporate transfer, so we don’t
have to worry about this buyer having to sell a home so he can buy
yours,” said Nancy, switching from her best friend persona to her
hard-core real estate one. She could tell I was having major doubts
about being rushed into such a huge decision, so she went in for
the kill.

“The Cartwrights are a nice family, Carol.
They love the house. I know you’d never want to sell to anyone who
wouldn’t care for it as much as you have. Imagine how wonderful
it’ll be to have young children in the house again. They have two,
a boy and a girl, just like you. Can’t you imagine their kids
playing in the back yard, just like Jenny and Mike did?

“But here’s the best part. You won’t believe
this.” Nancy waited a beat for us to respond.

I snuck a look at Jim. I was sure he was
mentally calculating what the net proceeds from the house sale
would be after we paid Nancy’s commission.

“Alyssa Cartwright’s parents are Sara and
Chuck Miller. Can you believe it? That’s one of the prime reasons
why they wanted to live in this neighborhood, to be close to her
family. She and Jack are absolutely thrilled with this opportunity.
You can’t break their hearts, Carol. You’ve gotta say yes.”

Nancy knew that appealing to my emotions
suckered me in every time. Funny that, after all these years of
marriage, my husband still didn’t understand that.

In my heart, I knew she was right. I just
didn’t want to be strong-armed into anything.

“It sounds like a great offer,” I said,
stalling for time. “But I’m not sure I’m quite ready to do this.
It’s all happening so fast.”

Jim and Nancy both stared at me like I was
nuts.

“Carol, you can’t be serious,” Nancy said.
“Do you know how lucky you are to get a full price offer at the
first open house? That never happens.”

“Honey, I know this is hard for you,” My
Beloved said. “But you know this is for the best.”

I just sat there like an idiot. Then,
mercifully, the front doorbell rang. Saved by the bell, I thought,
as I scurried to answer it, leaving Nancy and Jim in the kitchen.
Thank God for a distraction so I’d have time to sort out my
feelings.

I opened the door to a good-looking young
man in his late thirties.

“Can I help you?” I asked, figuring he was
lost and needed directions. My mother raised me to be polite.

The man was neatly dressed for an early
spring Connecticut weekend in a tan leather bomber jacket and
pressed chinos. His light brown hair was slightly mussed from the
wind. Not particularly tall or short. Just…um…ordinary in height. I
did notice a slim body under the bomber jacket that looked like it
got a gym workout every day.

He gave me a huge smile, showing off
straight, even teeth that must have cost his parents a fortune.

Believe me, I know all about that.

“I know this is irregular,” my unexpected
visitor said, “but I just wanted to look at your beautiful front
staircase one more time. I hope you don’t mind if I come
inside.”

Huh?

He moved his body around me, and the next
thing I knew I had this perfect stranger standing in my foyer.

Who the heck was this guy? An open-house
leftover? I wasn’t frightened, though. Just irritated.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting my annoyance
show, “but the open house is over.” So go away, you pushy
person.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” the
young man said. “I should have introduced myself when you answered
the door.”

He took my right hand and crushed it in his.
I noticed his palms were wet, which always grosses me out.

“I’m Jack Cartwright.” He continued to pump
my hand. “My family and I saw your house this afternoon, and we
just love it. We want to buy it. It’s exactly what we’ve been
looking for.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Green.” This last was
directed at Nancy who, hearing voices, had come to the front of the
house along with My Beloved. She hates to miss anything.

“Why, Jack,” Nancy said. “This is a
surprise. Why are you back here so soon? Are you alone? Where’s
your Realtor?”

“I was anxious to see how our offer was
received,” Jack confessed, flashing his perfect teeth again in a
boyish grin. “I guess I shouldn’t have showed up this way, but
Alyssa is in love with this house. She thinks it’s perfect for us.
And the fact that it’s in this neighborhood, right near her family,
is great. I love seeing her so happy, and I hope you’ll accept our
offer.

“Mr. Andrews,” Jack said, turning the full
force of his considerable charm on My Beloved and shaking his hand,
“it’s such a pleasure to meet you, sir. The job you’ve done
landscaping the house is spectacular. I can tell you’ve taken years
to get the yard looking as good as it does. What curb appeal. I
want to hear all about how you did it. I know I have a lot to
learn, and you’re obviously a master gardener.”

Huh? Give me a break. Our yard is nice, but
Jim had a long way to go to qualify as a master gardener. Jack
Cartwright reminded me a little of Eddie Haskell on Leave It To
Beaver. Remember him? “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing, Mrs.
Cleaver.” What a suck-up.

Of course, My Beloved reacted to this
shameless flattery like a typical guy. The next thing I knew, he
and Jack were settled at the dining room table chatting away like
old buddies.

I rolled my eyes at Nancy. She, however,
pulled up a chair to join them. And had the nerve to pour each of
them an Irish coffee.

Jeez.

Was I the only one who thought Jack
Cartwright was pushy? And noticed that, when he talked, he never
made eye contact with the person he was talking to? He also was
adept at bending the truth, if his remark about Jim being a master
gardener was any indication of his character.