CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I don’t know who to call. It’s not like I want to call Tommy and ask why the hell he’d want to buy my uncle’s place, but the auction company won’t be helpful at all. To them, he’s a big, fat dollar sign. If they’re showing him the place sometime today, that means they’ve nabbed his attention before finishing repairs. They can stop making them. The cash purchase option is unflinchingly as-is, without warranty. There’s no financing to wait for, and the bank statement verification proves that Tommy at least has the money to spend. To the auction house, Tommy’s a dream come true. They won’t want to help me even if they can — me, who’s entering the discussion looking for reasons the deal won’t, or shouldn’t work.
Maybe Tommy is trying to buy me off. Maybe that’s all this is. Or maybe he wants to humiliate me by showing how simple it is to buy something I’m working hard to unload. If that’s all it is, I face a dilemma of integrity: Is it okay to take money from someone I hate? Is it okay to let my archnemesis get something he wants? Or should I screw myself in the name of pride, in order to screw him, too?
The idea of attempting to thwart Tommy’s bid sounds intellectually interesting, but as a practical thing, it seems flat-out moronic. Money is money, and this gets me more than I’d been expecting. He won’t get me to leave; Maya is keeping me here now, not the auction. So why not take what he’s offering?
But the way Tommy seems to have gone about this bugs me. All the traveling I’ve done, I’m used to living by my wits. And living by your wits makes your instincts louder. I’ve learned to listen to mine, and right now, they’re screaming.
I started asking probing questions as soon as the girl on the phone revealed Tommy’s name. We both realized she probably shouldn’t have given it to me. The offer is through a company moniker; Tommy’s isn’t on it. But he left his name for the showing appointment. That means he’s trying to buy Ernie’s place on the down-low and didn’t bother to brag — not exactly ideal if he has any reason to want the house other than … well … wanting the house.
But why would he want such a piece of shit?
I decide to call the only guy I know in real estate. At first, I’d thought Brandon made the offer as a charity gesture, so he might have ideas.
But I don’t get Brandon when I call. I get his wife, Riley. I have Brandon’s number somewhere, but apparently he’s one of the ten people in the country who still has a land line, and apparently I’ve called it before. I apologize and ask Riley for his cell, but she says he dropped it on a job site the other day and is waiting for a new one. She’ll have him call me in the evening, if I want. But this feels red-hot, and I need an answer now.
Then it dawns on me. I’m being either ignorant or sexist because Riley knows real estate, too. Her father’s company, I’d swear, owns half the county.
I tell her the situation, about Tommy’s bid, made behind my back. I figure she’ll answer right away with an I don’t know. Instead, she goes quiet.
“Riley?” I ask the silence.
“I’m thinking.”
“So you do know?”
“I don’t. But … where is your uncle’s property?”
I tell her. It’s not terribly close to anything, not in the best (but not the worst) part of town, on the outskirts. The house is a shithole, and the land is only good for farming, until it’s developed. Right now, there’s nothing upscale enough to support Life of Riley Homes, or anything close.
“I remember the listing. Brandon showed it to me. Not because it was interesting — no offense — but because it was your uncle’s. He … ” She hesitates.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Riley, what?”
She sighs. “You know Brandon loves you.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t be mad. But he wondered if we’d want to hold it, just to get you … well, to get you out of a bind.”
I’m not in a bind, but I probably look like it. Brandon’s known me longer than anyone. And as much as Joe encouraged me to stay for Maya, Brandon is understandably less optimistic. He knows how that wrecked me, but doesn’t know all the good that’s happened to change my mind. Of course he’d want to help; he’d want to give me what I needed to make up for my lost time and get me moving, if that’s what I wanted.
I sigh. I’m sure she can hear the smile in my voice. I’m not stung by Brandon’s charity. I’m too happy, given the past twenty-four hours, to be stung by anything.
“But you didn’t,” I say.
“The asking price was too high to justify, given the potential return any time soon. You’ve got a lot of land there, sure, but it’s … ” She sighs.
“I’m not offended, Riley. It’s fine.”
“Dad didn’t want to try it in auction. So we just forgot about it. But … you said Thomas Finch?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s with … ?”
“Equatorial Finance. But it wasn’t in Equatorial’s name. This seems to be just Tommy, by himself, through use of a company moniker.”
She sighs again, seeming to think. She starts to say something then says, “Never mind.”
“Never mind what?”
“Just something Bridget said.”
“Brandon’s sister, Bridget? What about her?”
“She was on Brandon’s side. She wanted us to buy it.”
“You and Bridget?”
“Life of Riley.”
“Why does she care what Life of Riley builds?” Bridget isn’t in real estate. She records audiobooks and does voice acting. I have to assume she was merely rallying behind Brandon’s idea, trying to get me the money they both seem to assume I desperately need. But instinct is still prickling at me, and something about this doesn’t quite fit. Namely: I can’t figure out why Bridget, who has no background in real estate and far less attachment to me than her brother, would feel strongly enough to say something other than possibly “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“She doesn’t. I think it was something else.”
“What?”
“She didn’t say. But I got the impression she knew something she wasn’t saying. Wouldn’t say to Brandon, either. She seemed to think that if the place went to auction, it would … ”
“Would what?”
“I don’t remember, Grady. I’m sorry. She let it go when my dad shot it down. But she kept asking if there was movement. I assumed she was looking out for you.”
I should assume that, too. But I don’t, for reasons I can’t explain.
“Maybe you should have Brandon call me,” I say.
“Sure. But if you want to know what Bridget knows, you should talk to her, not him.”
I ask Riley for Bridget’s cell, again pulling into a parking lot while tooling around to scrawl digits on a napkin. I thank her, hang up, and am about to call when the phone buzzes in my hand.
Turns out, there’s another person I can ask about all of this, and he’s calling me now.