At five o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, Zach Willet drove to the neighboring town of Madison and parked in front of the sales office of the Cartwright Town Houses Corporation. He went inside, where he found a sales clerk, a woman in her thirties, tidying up in preparation for closing down for the day. He noted the nameplate on her desk: AMY STACK.
“Hi, Amy,” Zach said as he looked around the room. “I can see you’re getting ready to skedaddle out of here, so I won’t take but two minutes of your time.”
On the walls were sketches of different models of the town houses, and the artist’s conception of how they might look when furnished. Zach walked from one to the other, examining them closely. Brochures on the table listed the prices and sizes and particular features of the various units. He picked up one of the brochures and read aloud some of the selling features of the most expensive model. “Four-story town house, four bedrooms, master bedroom suite, state-of-the-art kitchen, three fireplaces, four baths, washer and dryer, double garage, private patio and yard, all services.” Zach smiled appreciatively. “Looks as though you just can’t go wrong with that one,” he said. He dropped the brochure back on the table, walked over to the biggest picture, and pointed to it. “Now, Amy, I know you’re probably rushing to meet your husband or your boyfriend, but how about indulging a nice fellow like me and show me that fancy homestead.”
“I’ll be glad to take you over, Mr . . . . ” Amy hesitated. “I don’t think you introduced yourself.”
“That’s right. I didn’t. I’m Zach Willet, and unless you borrowed somebody else’s nameplate, you’re Amy Stack.”
“You’ve got it.” Amy opened the top drawer of her desk and fished inside for her key ring. “That’s 8 Pawnee Avenue. I have to warn you that is our top-of-the-line town house. It’s fully loaded with every conceivable extra, and naturally that is reflected in the cost. It’s also the furnished model.”
“Sounds better and better,” Zach said genially. “Let’s take a look at it.”
On the way through the development, Amy Stack pointed out that the landscaping was almost finished, and was scheduled to be featured in a national gardening magazine, and that the driveways were heated to prevent ice from forming in the winter. “Mr. Cartwright has thought of everything,” she said proudly. “He’s one of those hands-on builders who is involved in every detail, every step of the way.”
“Ted’s a good friend of mine,” Zach said expansively. “Has been for forty years, since we were both kids riding bareback at the stable.” He looked around. Some of the handsome red brick town houses were already occupied. “Expensive cars in the driveways,” he commented. “Nice class of neighbors. I can see that.”
“Absolutely,” Amy assured him. “The nicest people you’d ever want to meet.” She walked a few steps more, then said, “Here we are at number 8. As you can see, it’s a corner unit, and it really is the crown jewel of the development.”
Zach’s smile broadened as Amy turned the key, opened the door, and led him into the family room on the entry level. “Raised-hearth fireplace, wet bar—what’s not to like?” he asked rhetorically.
“Some people use the room on the other side for a gym, and, of course, there’s a full bath with a hot tub right beside it. It’s such a convenient arrangement,” Amy said, her voice crackling with professional enthusiasm.
Zach insisted on riding the elevator to each of the floors. Like a child opening presents, he took obvious pleasure in every detail of the house. “Plate-warmer drawer! My, oh my, Amy. I remember my momma putting the plates on top of the burners on the stove to keep them warm. She always ended up with blistered fingers.
“Two guest bedrooms,” he joked. “I don’t have close family, but with those two bedrooms, I’d better look up those cousins of mine in Ohio and have them out for a weekend.”
They rode back down in the elevator, went outside, and, as Amy locked the front door, Zach said, “I’ll take it. As is. Furnished.”
“That’s wonderful,” Amy Stack exclaimed. “Are you prepared to make a deposit now?”
“Didn’t Ted Cartwright tell you that he’s giving me this unit?” Zach asked, his tone astonished. “I saved his life once, and now that I have to get out of where I’ve been living, he told me to come over and choose my space. Ted never forgets a favor. You must be proud to be in his employ.”