War Room Read Free

anything he’d missed during the meeting, when he made a point of keeping it in his pocket. This was another thing he always tried to do. Value clients enough to make them the central focus. Never makeyour clients feel like there is anyone on the planet more important than them. They are your priority. Every. Time.
    A young woman walked down a white staircase before him, carrying a leather folder and smiling. He put his phone away and smiled back.
    “I see you made the sale,” she said.
    He nodded confidently. “Of course.”
    “I’m impressed. Most guys run out with their tail between their legs.”
    Tony extended a hand. “I’m Tony Jordan.”
    “Veronica Drake,” she said, shaking with him. Her hand was warm and soft. “I work for Mr. Barnes. I’ll be your contact for the purchase.”
    She handed him her card and brushed his hand slightly. Nothing overt, but he felt something click with her touch. Veronica was vivacious and slim, and Tony imagined them together at some restaurant talking. Then he imagined them by romantic firelight, Veronica leaning toward him, her lips moist and pleading. All this happened in a second as he stared at her business card.
    “Well, Veronica Drake, I guess I’ll be seeing you again when I return in two weeks.”
    “I’ll look forward to it,” she said, and the way she smiled made him think she meant it.
    She walked away and he turned and watched her a little too intently.
    As he waited for the elevator, his phone beeped and he looked at the screen.
    Bank Notice: Transfer.
    Here he was with the biggest sale in months, something he’d worked on and planned intricately, and right at the apex of his elation at the sale, he’d been given another smackdown by his wife.
    “Elizabeth, you’re killing me,” he whispered.

    Elizabeth sat on the white ottoman at the foot of her bed rubbing her feet. The time with Melissa had been good   —she’d been able to make a list of all the repairs and staging decisions that had to be done. The two boys hadn’t made things easier, but children always had a way of complicating home sales. It was something you just needed to work with and hope you could navigate.
    It had been a long day, with another meeting in the afternoon and then getting home before Danielle arrived from her last day of school. By the time she sat down, Elizabeth was exhausted and ready to curl up and sleep, but there was more to be done. There was always more to be done.
    “Mom?”
    Elizabeth couldn’t move. “I’m in here, Danielle.”
    Her ten-year-old daughter walked in carrying something. She had grown several inches in the last year, her thin, long body sprouting up like a weed. She wore a cute purple headband that highlighted her face. Elizabeth could see her father there   —that bright smile, eyes full of life. Except her eyes were a little downcast.
    “Here’s my last report card. I still got one C.”
    Elizabeth took it and looked it over as Danielle sat and shrugged off her backpack.
    “Oh, baby. You have an A in everything else. One C in math is not that bad. But you get a break for the summer, right?”
    Danielle leaned forward and her face betrayed something. She sniffed and then reacted like the room was full of ammonia. “Is that your feet?”
    Elizabeth self-consciously pulled her foot away. “I’m sorry, baby. I ran out of foot powder.”
    “That smells terrible.”
    “I know, Danielle. I just needed to take my shoes off for a minute.”
    Her daughter stared at her mother’s feet like they were toxic waste. “That’s, like, awful,” she said, repulsed.
    “Well, don’t just sit there looking at them. Why don’t you give me a hand and rub them right there?”
    “Ewwww, no way!”
    Elizabeth laughed. “Girl, go set the table for dinner. When your daddy gets home, you can show him your report card, okay?”
    Danielle took her report card into the kitchen, and Elizabeth was alone again. The odor hadn’t been a problem until a few