Homebody: A Novel Read Free

general lousiness; and the agent after that was a hotshot who lost interest in property that couldn't sell quickly. No staying power. Cindy knew the type, didn't like them much, and resented the damage these fairweather agents did to the profession. They skimmed off the cream, sold the houses that any fool could sell, and then left the tough projects to the real agents like Cindy. The result was that the most shallow, ruthless agents made the most money. What a system.
    And the Bellamy house was a prime example of what could happen to a property handled that way. The owner didn't want to sink more money into the house in order to fix it up. But he also didn't want to lower the price. Each time he finally dropped the price it was by too little and way too late.
    All that was before 1992, when Cindy joined the firm. For years now the file had lain undisturbed. The owner might be dead, for all Cindy knew. So... she called him.
    To her surprise, he not only wasn't dead, he even answered his own telephone. "That old piece of junk?" said the old man. "Every year when I pay the taxes on it I just want to spit."
    "Well, we have a potential buyer."
    "You've got to be kidding. The house hasn't blown down? Didn't Hurricane Hugo finish it off?"
    "Still standing."
    "Well, ninety thousand dollars and not a penny less."
    "You already dropped the price to eighty-four nine back in '89."
    "Did I?"
    "And it didn't sell then at that price."
    "I'm quite aware of that! Don't tell me my business. That's a valuable property!"
    With a smile in her voice, Cindy ignored his warning. "A property is worth what someone will pay for it. If no one will pay for it, then it's worth the value of whatever you produce on the land. If you produce nothing and nobody will pay for it, then that property is worthless."
    "Are you determined to insult me by taking me back to college?"
    "You've been paying taxes on that house for ten years now, earning nothing from it and never getting closer to a sale than a price quote. Do you want to sell this house or are you planning on taking it with you when you die?"
    For a moment Cindy thought the man might explode, he was so furious. She let him rail on about her rudeness and stupidity for about fifteen seconds. Then she set down the receiver on the cradle and took a drink from the Poland Spring bottle she kept at her desk. One minute. She glanced at the
News and Record
on her desk, flipped to the Word Jumble, worked it in about two minutes, and then picked up the phone and pushed the redial button.
    "You hung up on me," he said.
    "Was that you?" she said. "It sounded to me like a man who didn't want to sell his property. But why in the world would such a man be talking to a real estate agent?"
    The man chuckled grimly. "Well, aren't you the clever one."
    "Not really," said Cindy. "I'm the one who doesn't much care. I don't get a commission if you get angry at me and fire me as your agent. But then, I also don't get a commission if the property just sits there because the owner has a completely unrealistic view of its value."
    "Well, what do
you
think the value is?"
    "I think the value is whatever the buyer offers."
    "Are you crazy? You're going to take the first offer?"
    "Let's not get into the question of who is or isn't crazy," said Cindy. "Let's just be realistic about it. There hasn't even been an inquiry on this house in years. Every week you wait to sell it, the less value it has. For all I know, this man's only interest in it is to tear the house down and build something new on the lot."
    "A beautiful old house like that? It would be a sin!"
    "No worse than letting it die slowly, the way you're doing."
    "All right, I'll tell you what. You drop the price as far as you want below eighty thousand. But for each thousand you drop the price, your commission drops by a percentage point."
    "I have a better idea. My commission on this is a flat eight thousand dollars no matter what price the house goes for."
    "What? Are you