Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis by Maria Swan (feel good novels TXT) 📕

51 and the office. With the way the day had been unfolding I was willing to bet that Tommy, my ex from hell, was still hanging around the Baker compound. I hit the gas and headed for the 51.

Desert Homes Realty looked busy, all the marked parking spaces occupied. If I had been driving my Fiat 500, I could have squeezed into the very end of the lot without blocking someone. But not with this—this hearse. Where would the new group of Realtors park if the merger moved ahead? After my second parking space scouting excursion, I ended up across the street. My cell chimed as I turned off the engine. Brenda. This ought to be interesting.

“Hi, Brenda, let me guess. You are calling because of Tommy.” Pause.

“Tommy? Why? What happened to him?” A sharp, alarmed cough.

“Oh, no. I don’t—I didn’t mean it that way. But I saw him driving to your place.” The last thing I wanted to do was upset Brenda.

“He’s probably raiding my pantry. He asked me for cash to buy food, and I told him all I could offer was what he could find. No money, just food. Anyhow, what did you say to Angelique?”

“Huh, Angelique? When?” I was still seated in the car with the engine off.

“What do you mean when? When she spoke to you earlier. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I had to tell her about this woman who came to her house while I was picking up the mail. Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Angelique.” What was wrong with me? I knew where she was, in Phoenix.

“I don’t know, probably having lunch with the latest arrival.”

“The latest what?”

“A skilled farrier. You know, those people who work on horseshoes or whatever it’s called. He needed an exception to the rules to be allowed to move in here, because he’s a little younger than the rest. He’s really good with dogs too. Dior has taken a liking to the fellow. And Angelique decided Leo, that’s his name, would be a great addition to the ranch. Hey, why are we even talking about this?”

“Hey, nothing, you started it. Accused me of upsetting Angelique.”

“Accused? Is everyone sniffing glue around here?” A loud noise, like something heavy crashing on concrete interrupted the conversation.

“Damn, Monica, got to go,” she mumbled and coughed again. Was she back to smoking? “That idiot dropped the pots we just washed.”

And poof, Brenda was gone. I locked the car and headed across the street, to the office.

“How did it go?” Was Kassandra’s welcome. Made me smile, she acted more like a big sister than the receptionist and mighty ruler of the office.

“Pretty good actually,” I said and meant it. “He needs more info about the property, but he seems serious about buying, and we had good chemistry.”

“How good is good?” Mercy, what was up with Kassandra? Then I remembered she was the one who took Greg Coste’s call and obviously remembered his voice. Plus, we didn’t get many calls. Most people did their searching through the internet.

“Let’s just say that he looks as good as he sounds on the phone.” I watched Kassandra’s eyes light up. This was going to be fun.

“Well, tell me more—tell me more. Better yet, let’s chat over a cup of coffee.” She headed for the kitchen. At what point should I tell her he was old enough to be my father?

Later, maybe.

Sunny waved at me from the back of the room, motioning me over. “Sorry, Kassandra, our chat needs postponing. The boss is calling.”

I followed Sunny to her private office with the glass walls, the room where my career as a Realtor had first begun.

“What’s this I hear about a casino night to introduce our people to Dale’s?” she asked.

“What? Sunny, he said something about it while we were in the kitchen, and by we I mean Kassandra and me. Two days ago? He mentioned hiring Brenda’s B&B to cater the event and have Kassandra do her tarot readings and donate the casino money to a charity. We thought he was joking.”

“Joking is not part of Dale’s vocabulary when it comes to business,” Sunny said.

I nodded. “Apparently not. You know Brenda is down in Tucson. Do you have a date in mind?”

“Not yet, there is time. Nothing will happen until we have all the legalities out of the way. I wanted to bring it up with you, so when you talk to Brenda you can mention it. Counting agents, assistants, and the rest of the staff, we are looking at around thirty-five people, give or take a few. You know how those things work.”

“That’s a lot of people, where are you planning on doing this? Outdoor, indoor?”

“Probably a combination of both, over at Dale’s place.”

“Is his house that big?”

“Big and then some. Kay drove me over for a meeting. His back yard is designed for large parties, I call it a Disneyland for adults.” She smiled. “Unlike Disneyland, no lines and no rides.”

“Sunny, can I pick your brain? I showed a listing today. It was a cold call on one of our signs, 8th Place and Glendale?”

She nodded. My broker was a caring genius who made it a point to familiarize herself with all our listings/sales. I knew that from the months I’d spent as her personal assistant.

I went on. “The interested buyer is looking for a house that could be used as a senior assisted-living place. The home needs work, but while he likes the location, he isn’t sure about the zoning laws or anything that applies to that sort of business. I volunteered to research the subject. Can you help me out?”

“I can do better than that. One of Dale Wolf’s agents specializes in that type of business. He sells homes for senior assisted-living and also for behavioral health wellness—substance abuse in plain English. I believe the rules are similar. It’s a very specific niche as real estate goes and very much in demand I’m told. I’ll get you the contact. You may want to familiarize yourself with