“You really think it will sell for fifteen million?” Matt asked. He helped himself to the sweet potato fries on my plate.
“Fully restored and loaded with all the sexy sustainable design features?” I stirred some sugar into my coffee, nodding while I mentally ran through the recent comparable sales. “Fifteen sounds right to me. There’s a five-story Greek Revival around the corner, and that sold for eleven. And a Gothic on the sunny side of Commonwealth. Same size, but it needed work. It was a closed sale with a non-disclosure but my sources tell me it sold for somewhere north of twelve-five.”
“It’s going to be expensive,” he murmured, his fingers drawing numbers on the tabletop as he added it up in his head.
“I expected that,” I said. “I wouldn’t have started this discussion if I couldn’t fund it.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s buy a disaster.”
“Two disasters,” I corrected, “one amazing restoration.”
*
Will:When did you leave this morning?
Shannon:Early
Will:Does that mean you’ll be home earlier tonight?
Shannon:That’s none of your concern
Will:That’s arguable
*
Will:I’m fixing the hinges on your closet. Maybe slam them less?
Shannon:Get out of my bedroom
Shannon:Actually, get out of my apartment
Will:You want me to bring you lunch? No problem. What do you feel like?
Shannon:Seriously. Why are you here? What’s going on?
Will:I’m on leave
Shannon:You’ve never wanted to spend that time in Boston before
Will:Not true.
Will:When will you be home? We’ll talk.
Shannon:I don’t think that’s a good idea
Will:That wasn’t a question. We will talk.
*
Will:Met your cleaning lady.
Will:And by “met” I mean she walked in while I was in the shower
Will:I paid her and sent her home
Will:Should I expect anyone else to walk into your apartment unannounced?
Shannon:Probably not.
