My own shoulders slump. I haul them up again, but my mouth turns down.
I try to go about life as normal. I worked today and there’s another open house tomorrow. I have to eat. Forget romance. Forget Dirk the doubter.
My phone rings as I’m draining the pasta for dinner. When I see it’s Phoebe, I drop the spoon on the floor as I lurch towards the bright phone screen and answer.
“Phoebe?”
“Mom, hi.”
“Hi, darling.”
“Can I come stay with you?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“I got an internship just up the road from you.”
“Congratulations. This is wonderful news.”
“It’s just for a couple of months.”
“Perfect. When do you start? You can bring your things whenever you like. Need me to come with the car?”
We chat logistics as if there was never an issue between us. Was it all in my head, or does rent-free accommodation or avoiding an hour-long commute appeal? Either way, I don’t care. It’s my Phoebe. Of course I’ll make her welcome.
It’s only when she’s hung up that I realize I might not even be living here if my offer is unsuccessful. I don’t know where I’ll be. Back at Donna’s while I lick my wounds? I hate this uncertainty. I must buy this apartment, no matter what. Phoebe’s request is the clincher. I simply can’t afford to ruin this chance to reconcile with my only daughter.
I finally get some food into my bowl and grab a spoon and fork when the phone rings again. This time it’s Hilary. Thank goodness. Maybe my offer for the apartment was high enough.
“Hilary, tell me, tell me! Can I buy it?”
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” she says. “The seller’s agent says the seller doesn’t want to accept your offer. They say they already have a better offer, and there’s another open house tomorrow, so they’re not ready to accept. They want to see ...”
“But ... then I’ll raise my offer. By ...” I pluck a number out of the air. It’s just numbers; numbers that need to impress.
“Be careful, Lucy. I have to tell you. You need to be ready with the good faith bond. Ten per cent. And if you can’t come up with all the money in good time, you may be sued.”
“Yes, yes. But do make the larger offer.”
“I will, Lucy. I have to wait until business hours tomorrow.”
Hope fizzes in my veins, and then despair takes over. I don’t ever want to fight with Dirk. But I can’t back down. Even Hilary said it. I need all the money I can earn.
I pace the apartment. Can’t sleep. I go down to the garden and stand in the cold moonlight. Am I as bad as Dirk says? Should I have told him I unpacked his place? I didn’t know it was actually his until he brought up my groceries and I saw he lived above me. My fingers itch to grab my phone and call him back and explain. But what’s the point? Dirk the Doc O’Connell is not the man I thought he was. Lucky escape, huh?
So why do I feel so empty?
