“Hi, yeah, Mr. Conrad? This is Patsy at 205 Beedle Drive?”
“Uh-huh.” Mr. Conrad says, then coughs like he’s losing a lung. I hope he’s all right.
“Yeah, I was calling about the basement.”
“What about it?” asks the older man.
“Well”—Patsy sounds so chipper, but her face tells another story—“there’s still water down there. We’re concerned about mold.”
“Mold?” He chuckles. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No it’s not, Mr. Conrad.”
I feel Cooke fidget next to me. Looking over, I see his brows furrow and his lips flatten and thin. He’s irritated.
“Sweetheart, we’ll get to it soon enough.”
Cooke stands and moves closer to Patsy. Whispering, he tells her, “Tell him if he doesn’t take care of it this week, you’ll all need to find other living arrangements due to health concerns.”
Patsy is staring at Cooke. I wonder what she’s thinking. I don’t have to wait long before she says exactly what Cooke suggested.
“You have a lease, young lady. You can’t move out.”
Cooke appears ready to counter that argument, but Patsy holds her hand up to stop him. “Mr. Conrad. All I have to do is call someone at the city to ask them for a rental housing inspection to test for mold. It’s free. If they find mold, we’ll move out, and you’ll be forced to remediate that mold and find new tenants.”
“Don’t you threaten me, young lady.”
“It’s not a threat, Mr. Conrad. My health and the health of my roommates is my first concern. If necessary, I’ll retain an attorney to protect us against any legal action.”
Smart. She didn’t threaten to sue him. I know from that wrongful termination situation with my brother that threats only make things worse.
“I’ll give you one more week to have the basement cleaned and inspected for mold,” she continues. “If you haven’t done that by this Saturday, we’ll be making arrangements to move out quickly.”
The crusty voice on the other end of the line isn’t happy. “Fucking girl….”
“Is that a yes?” she asks smugly.
“Yes,” he hisses. “A crew will be there in the morning.”
“Great!” she says cheerily. “See you then.”
Hanging up, she smiles first at Cooke, then me. “How’s that?”
I’m in awe. “Perfect.”
Cooke steps back over until he’s next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. With a tug from him, I’m pressed against his side. “Excellent. But if he doesn’t follow through, please let me know. I may have a solution for your living arrangements.”
Patsy looks surprised. “Oh, okay.”
“Wait! Did you buy that condo?” I squeak.
Smiling down at me, he says, “Not yet.”
“Cooke—”
“Well, we’d best be off. It’s nearly five thirty.”
“Oh, right.”
