“That’s how business works, Susan.” He gave her a guileless smile. “Their rents help pay for your apartment.”
“Of course. I was just wondering, because Sunnybrook Plaza at Bayview and Eglinton has a much higher volume based on similar square footage. Makes me think you might be getting close to outpricing yourself. That one’s a little dated, about fifteen years old, but it was the first strip mall in Toronto, and it has plenty of parking.”
Tom and her father stared at her in shock, then Tom did a poor job of hiding his delight.
“I see,” her father said, expressionless. “Do you happen to know what their rent is right now?”
“Two hundred forty-five dollars. Principal Investments, the landlord, raised it six months ago by two per cent.” She reached for a ham sandwich and sat back with a shrug, relishing the moment of stunned silence. “But what do I know?”
Her father graced her with a wonderful smile, and she felt his pride like a hug. “What do you know, indeed? There’s my girl.”
He had always tried to get her interested in business, but she’d never given him anything to hope for. Why should she worry about a steady career when he gave her everything she needed? Except strangely, she’d found that the more satisfied she became with her job, the more she looked forward to getting up in the morning and doing more. Maybe she’d been too young when he’d tried to persuade her. Maybe she’d had to grow into it. Whatever it was, this new appetite for practical information felt invigorating.
At the same time, it was a little confusing. Considering everything she’d ever believed and protested about, it bothered her that capitalism made so much sense. Done right, it could help everyone, it appeared.
The concept of gentrification stuck in her mind, though. As pleasing as renovations and upgrades appeared, those who could not afford the bettered homes would always need places to live, too. When she’d spoken with her father about it, he’d assured her that improving buildings, and not just aesthetically, helped a lot of people. Purchasing, renovating, then reselling homes brought up the increased value of the houses for families trying to improve their situations. It also paid salaries to tradespeople hired for the construction. And for those still in need of a home, the government was building thousands of homes every year.
Between her father and Tom, and their different approaches to the job, Sassy had figured out a lot of things.
She loved seeing the pride on Tom’s face when he closed a sale. The way his laugh lines suddenly appeared. Yes, he was handsome, but it was more than that. He genuinely enjoyed what he did, eager from the first step, then plainly satisfied at the end. She could tell it was about more than money with him. What was it about real estate that appealed to him so much? And why did Sassy find it so interesting? A vague, unsettling question started up in the back of her mind. What if maybe, someday, she tried this job herself? Could she do that? Would she be any good at selling? Was it hypocritical even to consider the idea? Because when she saw that satisfied expression on Tom’s face, she realized she wanted to feel the same thing.
On the final Friday before Christmas, Sassy finished her last bit of filing, then she grabbed her coat, hat, and boots and stopped at Tom’s desk. He was working with his head down, marking up a chart.
“All done,” she said. “I need to cut out.”
He glanced up, and she could tell he’d been concentrating awhile. His hair was mussed where he’d dragged his fingers through it, and she was tempted to smooth it down. Except when it was messy, he looked younger, which she liked.
“Already? What time is it?”
“Early. Four o’clock.”
He blinked and faced the window, seeming to recall where he was. “That’s a lot of snow. You okay to get home in this?”
“Sure, but I have to leave now.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m entertaining this evening.”
“Tell me you’re not going on a date in this weather.”
An unexpected blush rose to her cheeks. No matter how hard she tried not to see her boss as attractive, it was a lost cause. More and more, every time she looked at Tom Duncan, Sassy felt butterflies.
“No date tonight,” she said. “Remember I told you about my neighbour friend, Marion? And how we alternate dinners in each other’s apartment every week? The two of us decided to have a dinner party tonight at my place for Christmas, and we invited more neighbours. I need to get home and get ready.” She frowned at her watch. “So if it’s all right with you, I’m leaving early.”
“It’s all right with me. Oh, before you go, I meant to ask. Did you finish that file on the house on Berkshire? Were you able to get all the neighbourhood information? I know some of it was out of the way.”
“I got it all. It’s in that big box on the shelf. I couldn’t lift it, so I left it there for you.”
He got up and headed to the shelf, and Sassy glanced at her watch again, a little annoyed.
“What do you think of the property?” he asked.
“Me?”
“Well, sure.”
As he stretched to reach the top shelf, she couldn’t help but notice the lines of his starched white shirt tightening against his shoulder blades. Usually he wore a jacket, so she didn’t get the same kind of view. She didn’t mind this one at all, and though it was probably wrong, as far as workplaces went, she let herself admire the sight. She figured there was about ten years between them, but gosh, thirty-ish sure didn’t look old on him. Without so much as a grunt, he lifted the heavy box and placed it on the table while she watched.
“You did all the research,” he said. “You know it better than I do.”
She forced her brain back to the file, which she’d completed that morning. She dug through the box and handed it to him, but he didn’t look inside. Instead, he waited for her answer.
