After Jude left, Annette was satisfied. Satisfied that her mysterious, newly divorced neighbor was a little more interesting than she had realized.
With the height of the sales season in full swing, she should be at the office, wishing business into existence. So, that’s exactly where she went.
Best on the Block offices were located on Main Street, along with every other business in Harbor Hills. Though it was far short of an industrial district, one could find just about everything on Main. Their office was a brick square nestled snugly between Harriet’s Hardware and Dr. O’s, the local veterinarian. The monthly rent was more than either Roman or Annette wanted to pay, but they both figured that the prime real estate, so to speak, was a necessary evil.
“Honey, I’m home!” Annette called out as she stepped in through the wood door. Their welcome chimes clinked above her head, and she hung her purse on the hat stand. Roman always said she’d better not do that—liable to get ripped off. But the office was a one-room box with three-hundred-sixty visibility, save for the bathroom at the back. There was no way she’d miss a pickpocket or burglar, and their particular row was secured with an alarm, thanks to the landlord.
Roman looked up at her above his rimless readers. Annette couldn’t believe she was married to someone who wore readers. But there he was, looking dashing and salt-and-pepper-haired and…entirely deflated.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, joining him at his desk. Ropes of numbers bled across his computer screen, and Annette felt a headache prick to life behind her eyes.
He massaged his temples and tried for a smile. “Just…running through some figures.”
Annette frowned at the screen, pretending to make sense of it all. Then she gave a flourish of her hand. “Any leads today? New clients? New listings? Old listings with new prices? Haven’t peeked at my report yet.”
“No price changes on our current listings. I talked to the Mainards. They want to hold firm at two-fifty. I heard from the Becketts. They aren’t willing to settle for another three-bedroom. Definitely want four. Definitely need more space.”
Annette’s lips drew down. “What’s wrong with a three-bedroom?” The Becketts were a Crabtree couple. Younger. The wife was expecting, and they already had one child. The little two-bedroom on Dogwood was about to be too small. Even Annette could admit that. But on their budget—he was a teacher, she a stay-at-home mom—they’d be lucky to find anything at all.
“I told them if they’d wanted four, they should have taken the Carlson foreclosure,” Roman said.
Annette replied, “But she’s pregnant. That place is way too much work.”
“Well, we have no other four-bedrooms in their price range,” Roman reasoned.
“Why four? Why not three?” Annette knew she was arguing unnecessarily. Roman wasn’t her client. The Becketts were.
“Didn’t you hear?” he asked, pulling his glasses all the way off and leaning far back in his office chair. It squeaked. Loudly.
“Hear what?”
“Twins.” He smirked. “They want more space than three bedrooms. I guess Elora is going to find a work-from-home job after she delivers.”
“Twins!” Annette clasped her hands, skipping over the second bit of news. “Twins! Harbor Hills has no twins. Oh, wow. I’m…I’m totally jealous.”
Roman chuckled. “You and everyone else. Those two kids are going to be town royalty. They’re already famous. Can’t believe you didn’t know.”
“I’ve been distracted,” Annette said. “Anyway, what will she do? Sell Mary Kay?”
“Who knows? I just got the email this morning. Twins. Four-bedroom for sure. One room can be a home office or a den.”
“Oh! Well, three-bed-plus-den is different than four bedrooms. Don’t we have a listing like that? North of town?”
Roman shook his head. “Nope. And anyway, they’re not likely to get enough for their house to help upgrade, twins or no twins.”
Annette nodded. “Right.” Then, she thought for a moment. “Speaking of local kids, did you hear? Quinn’s daughter is in town now.”
“Quinn?” Roman’s brow line furrowed.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Quinn. Our new neighbor?”
“Right, right.” Roman pushed his glasses back on and returned to his screen. “Well, that’s nice. New friend for Elijah. Ever since Kayla—”
Annette saw his jaw tense as the name fell out of his mouth and drifted away. Her chest seized. Elijah had loved Kayla. Not like that. But he’d loved her since they were kids. They’d grown up together. In truth, Kayla’s death had wedged something between Annette and Beverly. Between Elijah and Beverly, actually. And the wedge was catching, turning the whole Best family on Beverly, ultimately. Only recently had feelings between the two thawed. The pain. The blame. Always self-inflicted, no matter who bore it.
“Maybe,” Annette whispered. “Although, I’m not sure she’ll be staying.”
Roman, distracted once again by his spreadsheet, looked up, his eyebrow cocked. “Not staying? What do you mean? Quinn’s leaving?”
“No, not Quinn. Quinn is staying, as far as I can tell. Vivi, though. I think she’ll be going home. To Birch Harbor. At least eventually. That’s the impression her father gave me when he dropped her off.”
“Her father? Birch Harbor?” Roman pushed his chair away from the desk and gave his wife a serious look. “How involved are you in this mess?”
“Oh, Roman,” Annette tsked. “It’s not a mess. It’s a family. They are…oh, I don’t know. They’re finding their way!” She threw up her hands. “It’s Apple Hill. Is anything ever perfect on Apple Hill?”
He gave her another look. “It used to be.”