Selling Murder House

Chapter 2 (Continued)

I walked the rest of the way quickly. Whenever I looked over my shoulder, I saw the woman standing there, exactly where I left her. When I turned the corner, I imagined her still standing there, and wondered how long she would stay like that. What would she do when the news van finally left? I had a feeling she wouldn't approach the house, even then. The whole time I spent with her, I realized, she hadn't been staring at the reporter. She had been directing her anger and fear toward the house itself.

I needed to see that news report.

I dropped Winnie off in the apartment and gave him a kiss goodbye before heading down the elevator to the parking garage. Normally I would change into something more stretchy before going to a site, but I kept my power outfit on. I felt like I needed the confidence.

The parking garage was dark and damp. It was one of the complex's nicer amenities, and became especially useful in the winter when the snow and ice hit, but being there always gave me the creeps. It was too quiet, too enclosed, too full of strange shadows and echoes. When I reached my car, I had my keys ready to slide into the lock, so I could unlock, slide inside, and lock myself in in one clean motion. But then I saw the broken glass. The passenger-side window was busted.

"Shit," I whispered. I quickly scanned the garage for any sign of movement, expecting to see the criminal sprinting away, or coming at me to attack, but there was nothing.

Car break-ins were not unusual at my complex. They mostly happened to cars parked along the street, but they happened occasionally in the garage as well. Still, I was surprised mine had been targeted. It wasn't the kind of car that hinted to any secret treasure, it was old, scratched, and dented, and the only thing of value I had inside was an old Avril Lavigne CD, and that was only worth something in sentiment. I scanned the garage again, checking out nearby cars. I didn't see any other cars with broken windows.

Satisfied I wasn't going to be ambushed, I pulled open the door and checked my glove compartment. Avril was there still, so that was something. Someone had pulled my registration out from the glove box. I stuffed it in my purse and closed the door, spraying new chunks of glass onto the concrete.

I thought about calling the cops, but what was the point? They weren't going to catch a petty thief, who wasn't even a thief because he hadn't taken anything. I was more concerned with how much this was inevitably going to cost me. I didn't necessarily have an emergency fund for this kind of thing.

I checked the time on my phone. Stopping to chat with the strange woman in Saddlebrook, and now this fun little inconvenience, had now officially put me behind schedule for the day. I swiped through my contacts, swallowed my pride, and hit call.

"Hey Mary," Sofia answered. It sounded like she was driving, I could hear the engine running and soft music playing.

Sofia was the agent showing the house I was staging, and I was betting she was on her way to the property now. I just hoped I hadn't missed her.

"Hey, any chance you can swing by and give me a ride?" I said. "I ran into a bit of . . . car trouble."

I really didn't want to say "My car got broken into inside my community parking garage, but don't worry I don't need to call the cops because I literally don't own anything worth anything." "Car Trouble" was all Sofia needed to know.

Sofia drove a sleek black SUV that looked like something the secret service might employ. It was roomy inside, with all leather seats and a shiny chromed out console. Sofia looked like a child behind the wheel, it was a big car for a small woman. She flashed me a bright white smile as I climbed in.

She must've seen me struggle to hoist myself up onto the seat, because she laughed and said, "I know, the car is ridiculous. My husband insisted on it for the safety features."

There were two empty car seats in the back, strapped in tight, with toys and patterned blankets littering the seats and floor. I hadn't realized Sofia had kids. It made sense though. Sofia had a kindergarten-teacher voice. I always thought it was just a fake sweetness, but seeing the messy car made me think twice. She started driving, her GPS giving her directions in a gentle British accent.

"No, it's a beautiful car," I said. "Thanks so much for picking me up. I owe you."

Sofia laughed again and waved her hand. "You owe me nothing if we sell this house tonight."

I liked the way she said that, if we sell this house. It wasn't everyday I had an agent acknowledge me as a part of a sale. I realized I had never actually been in a one-on-one conversation with Sofia before.

"Hey, Listen Mary," she said. "Don't listen to Leo. He's an asshole."

That took me by surprise. Not that Leo is an asshole -- I wasn't the only one who said that. Everyone called Leo an asshole, just usually in a light-hearted, flirty kind of way. Sofia was being earnest, though, I could tell.

"Oh, what, did he say something?" I asked, a little awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, it's none of my business. I just heard him talking about you wanting to become an agent, that's all," she said.

I'm sure that had been taken out of context at least a couple times, but I decided it wasn't worth correcting.

"Whatever he's saying, he's probably right," I said. It was supposed to be a joke, but my laugh came out canned.

Sofia's face turned serious.

"Mary, if you want to be an agent then you should," she said, turning to face me long enough that I became nervous about her steering.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure if I can picture it," I said.

"Can I be real with you?" she said.

My heart was thumping in my chest. I didn't know if I wanted Sofia to be real with me. After the day I'd just had, I kind of just wanted to exchange polite pleasantries and writhe in awkward silence.

"Sure," I said, because there really isn't a "no thank you" option to a question like that.

"I know it might seem like us agents are all alike. In a lot of ways, we are similar," she said. "But you don't have to be some certain way to be successful in this industry."

I nodded.

"I wasn't always like this," she continued. "I didn't grow up getting new cars, with the best safety features or whatever. And we lived in our car growing up, some of the time."

This surprised me. I could feel the discomfort in her voice as she spoke, and I wondered how many others in the Group knew this about her. Something told me that no one else knew.

"I'm not telling you this as like, a weird sob story, or to like try and relate to you because I think you're poor or something," she said. "I just . . . I just don't want someone like Leo stopping you from doing what you want to do."

My tongue felt numb as I tried to think of what to say. I didn't feel like I deserved this speech. This was meant for someone who wanted to launch their new career and take life into their own hands. Someone who could be motivated.

"Thank you," I said.

We were approaching the property then, and Sofia drove up the long driveway and around a large fountain to park. She turned to me before I could open my car door.

"Stay for the sunset showing tonight," she said. "If you're on the fence about whether or not you want to become an agent, this might help put your mind in one place."