And then there’s Donna, who puts her arms around me. I feel a little calmer. I can do this. The apartment will be mine. I just have to make the best offer.
My heart jolts when Phoebe walks in, a young man beside her, with brown hair and a kind face.
“This is Jaxon, Mom, with an ‘x,” says Phoebe. “It was Jaxon’s idea to come and give you moral support.”
“Oh that’s lovely, Phoebe. Jaxon, I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Lucy. Thank you so much. I’m sorry I can’t offer you tea or coffee or lunch right now.”
“Don’t be silly, Mom,” says Phoebe. “As if. So, what are your chances? Donna told me everything. I know you really love this place. And now I can see why.”
Phoebe runs her hand along the windowsill and stares down at the garden.
I glance at Donna and she nods.
“I’m not your Godmother for nothing, Phoebe.”
They exchange a smile.
“I do love this place,” I say. “You see how there’s room for you, Phoebe? In there. I’ve moved most of the lamp stuff into the window seat. So, yes. I’m hopeful, but so are all these people, no doubt. I’ll speak with my lawyer again on Monday. My first two offers weren’t high enough, but I’m about to make another offer. Whatever it takes.”
“Good luck, Ms Beston.”
“Thank you, Jaxon. Please. Call me Lucy. It means so much to me that you’re here, Phoebe, both of you.” I long to grab her and hug her tight, but she is here as an adult, at a very public event. Instead, I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Whatever happens, I am rich because you’re my daughter, Phoebe. That’s not a platitude. It’s just the truth.”
Her face lights up. I pull her to me after all, and she lets me, here in front of all these strangers, and I start to cry.
I let her escape and she and Jaxon continue exploring my place. He holds her hand, and I swallow – my Phoebe, all grown up and partnered. I’m pleased for them. I snatch a tissue from the hall stand and dab at my eyes.
It’s crowded. People line my corridor. I scan the crowd, searching in vain for my tall neighbor, the elusive Dirk. The living room is full. Voices buzz from the kitchen and the bedroom – more and more strangers squeeze into my home.I have to act now to protect it, to save it for myself.
I slip past everyone and into my favorite part of the apartment.A sliver of sunlight filters through the bay windows and explodes off my diamonds, and I pluck a new figure out of the air. I email and text the number to Hilary and she questions it.
“You’re sure?” she texts. I send a green check emoji.
“Hurry,” I text. “Tell the agent.”
His phone rings straight away, and I see his eyebrows shoot up. But the minute he hangs up, it rings again and he names another price, a higher one.
The view of the neighborhood through the bay windows beckons to me, tempts me to offer even more. I calculate the value of my diamonds and text Hilary I will raise my offer by another ten thousand, and another few thousand after that.
Buyers hover around the seller’s agent naming figures. I am almost out of the race when Phoebe is by my side. “I can lend you another ten, Mom. You’ve been far too generous with me.”
My eyes widen.
“Do it,” she says. “I’m okay. Dad’s given me some to help with the internship.”
I text Hilary again, and she phones me.
“I need this in writing, Lucy. I’m sending you a fresh agreement. Use DocuShare. It has to be official.”
The agent keeps turning to the corner, taking offers on his phone and checking his own documents. Surely I’m still in the game. Surely I can make an offer high enough to secure it today – to put an end to these open houses once and for all and get on with my life.
Through our agents, the invisible competition and I fight it out a thousand dollars at a time. I hold my breath and raise my offer by another five hundred dollars – not sure how I’ll pay my next electricity bill; maybe I can sell the green gown on eBay – but Hilary texts back to me it won’t be enough.
“The seller’s agent has accepted a higher offer, Lucy. I’m sorry.”
A moment later the agent makes an announcement and my blood runs cold. My apartment is off the market – sold. He names the price. Higher than my latest offer.
I feel like a total fool. I am totally trumped, and out, and spent, exhausted, bleak, utterly without hope, done.
