During Sassy’s first couple of months working at Raskin Real Estate, she heard a lot. Friday lunches in the boardroom—usually a plate of sandwiches and pickles Betty ordered from the deli downstairs—often turned into discussions about the industry. Sassy rarely said anything while they went on, but she was learning, day by day. Her father had a lot to teach. He knew all the ins and outs of sales and the technical aspects of real estate. Tom’s approach was more about how to work with clients on a personal level. He was a smoother, more outgoing man overall. Both styles worked, apparently. She enjoyed being included in the conversations. It made her feel smart, and she wanted to learn more.
The trouble was, she’d never forgotten that her father had called her a hypocrite months before. She’d deserved it then, and she deserved it now. How was she, an advocate for socialism, supposed to admit that she was interested in business?
Sassy finished typing Tom’s latest listing onto a stencil then pulled it carefully off the roller. At her last job, she had gotten used to using carbon paper to make copies of letters. Now she used a mimeograph machine with a hand crank to churn out copies of flyers.
She loaded the paper then set up the machine, turning on the fluid tokeep the wick moist inside, engaging all the pressure knobs, then fitting the master copy onto the cylinder. Once she’d checked the first copy to make sure everything was centred, she set the dial for twenty copies and started up the hand crank. As the damp papers shot out onto the tray, she inhaled the weird, chemical freshness emanating from the purple ink. What was it about that smell? She’d noticed Tom surreptitiously sniffing a page after she set it on his desk, so it wasn’t just her.
He hadn’t come into the office yet today, so she imagined he was out at meetings. He’d taken her with him before, and she was sorry she wasn’t with him this time. To her surprise, she had discovered she enjoyed talking with clients, finding out what they needed and wanted. Tom seemed genuinely impressed by how good she had become at the business in such a short time.
Tom was a levelheaded boss, and he read Sassy well. To keep her happy, he kept her busy, trusting her with increasingly challenging tasks. She often found herself drawn into his words, and his gentle, rational thoughts. She liked the way the ends of his phrases seemed to curl a little, like the edges of his smile. Like he couldn’t help being a positive person. He got a kick out of making things happen. She liked that energy.
What she didn’t like was how she had begun to feel around him on a non-work level. His attitude was not the only thing she liked about him. Instead of starting arguments, as she had initially been tempted to do, she often found herself trying to make him laugh. More recently, their conversations at his desk had wandered off topic, and she easily lost herself in those icy-blue eyes. They talked about movies and music, and she chided him for having old-fashioned favourites. He seemed to get a kick out of her little barbs.
“You’re calling Elvis Presley old-fashioned?” he asked one time. “I have trouble with that. You gonna tell me you aren’t one of those girls who sits there with her chin on her fist, sighing when he’s singing on those Hawaiian beaches, moving the way he does?”
“No, I’m not ‘one of those girls.’ You haven’t noticed that about me yet?” She chuckled. “To be honest, I’ve never even been to one of his movies. I like some of his songs, though. He’s got a great blues feel.”
“You’ve never seen any of his movies? That’s unbelievable.” He hesitatedjust enough that Sassy predicted what he was about to say. “Maybe I should take you to one. See what you say when he’s singing and dancing and wearing some kind of uniform.”
Her face roared with heat that she tried to hide by lifting her chin with a dare. “Maybe you should.”
It had been two weeks since that conversation, and neither of them had broached it since. She was relieved and disappointed all at once. Of course she shouldn’t date her boss. But what if he hadn’t been her boss? What if he was just a regular businessman? What then? Would they drive each other crazy, or might they find common ground? The moral dilemma of dating a capitalist was new to her.
She patted her hair into place with her free hand and secured it with a bobby pin. The bun she’d tied that morning wasn’t as tight as it should be, and it was starting to fall apart. Marion had shown her the technique. They’d agreed that it was up to her to practice, which she hadn’t done. She preferred leaving her hair down, but Marion was right; having it up and out of the way was a smarter way to wear it at work. Marion had also insisted on taking her shopping for work clothes last week, since Sassy was always complaining about that tight tweed suit. At first she had been reluctant to go, since Marion was so different from her and so much older. She didn’t want to say anything about that, but the last thing she wanted to do was change her style and suddenly become all fuddy-duddy. Marion had only smiled and promised she wouldn’t do that to her. Once she was in the changing room, it took Sassy by surprise how much she liked the look of a couple of pastel-coloured skirt suits that fit just right. She’d assumed they would make her look too conservative, but she loved the style.
And what an unexpected bonus to hear Tom’s sweet compliments on how she was looking these days.
Over the past couple of months, her opinion of him had turned around completely. The more she got to know him, the easier it was to admit that she had jumped to conclusions based on the expensive cut of his suit. Behind all those perfect stitches and rich wool, beyond what she still regarded as slick sales techniques, he was a decent man. A good one, even. He workedwell with her father, and, considering her father’s demanding character, that was saying something.
In an attempt to push Tom from her mind, Sassy concentrated instead on her work. She had mastered all the forms and filing and whatever else he asked for, but she was a little restless. A couple of days ago, she overheard Tom and her father having a brief discussion about commercial spaces in strip malls. She had never thought about who might own those unremarkable, sometimes dingy clusters of stores. They were everywhere, and yet they were almost invisible most of the time. Of course someone had to own them, she reasoned, feeling stupid. She’d just never thought that through. But now that the buying and selling of properties was right in front of her every day, she wanted to get the facts straight in her head. She decided to do some research on her own.
When they met for lunch that Friday, she had a lot of questions, but Tom asked the first one.
“Where’s that mall you bought?” he asked her father.
“You bought amall?” Sassy exclaimed. No wonder they’d been talking about the strip malls. She knew her father was wealthy, but that was beyond what she’d believed.
“Southwest corner of Bayview and York Mills,” her father said, looking pleased as he reached for a tuna sandwich. “Made sense to me.”
“Seems like a good opportunity,” Tom replied. “Fairly affluent family homes around that area. They need access to a mall like that.”
“It’s been around a few years, and it’s been popular, but the owner’s on his way out. I was speaking with him about some of his tenants, and he told me he’d had enough of the business. So I just flat-out asked him.”
“Perfect timing,” Tom said, biting into a roast beef sandwich. Those were his favourite, Sassy had noticed. “You’re going to hang on to it this time? Or sell?”
“I think I’ll keep it. Something different on the side.”
All of a sudden, Sassy felt very smart. She waited until they were both enjoying their lunches and had forgotten all about her, then she spoke up.
“What do the stores there pay for rent?” Sassy asked her father, nonchalant.
Both men glanced up, taken off guard, but it was her father’s gaze she held.
He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, observing her. She knew the stance. He was preparing to defend his position. Sometimes, when she was behaving belligerently, he could get a little nasty, and she knew she was like him in that way. This time was different. She had a surprise for him, and she knew he was going to like it.
“Based on the square footage, two hundred and thirty dollars.”
“Are you planning to raise it?”
