Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 05 - A 380 Degree View by Catharine Bramkamp

Those high notes were killing her.  She knew she’d hear about it Monday, either in line at Safeway, or at the Brotherhood meeting, or from a casual comment dropped by Melissa who worked full time for Hospice and called every day to see if she could help now, how about now?  How about this afternoon?
    No, Sara said every day.  Melissa could not help, she did not need to stop by. Hospice was not needed. Her grandparents were just fine.  
    Sarah was determined to do better tonight.
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Where was Ben Stone?  He had performed well over the last month, he held my hand, whispered he loved me, reiterated that we needed to find a house to move in together. He sent flowers, and then more flowers.  He was doing as much as he could because I was the one who kept him at arm’s length. I’m the one who is not coping.
    “You’re still grieving.” Carrie observed the next morning.
    “Am not. It’s no big deal, right?  Happens all the time, right?”
    Prue finished her first cup of coffee.  “I lost one early, but got pregnant the next month, with your uncle.”   Prue had a bad night, I heard her rise more than once and knock around her bedroom as though she wanted to make as much noise as she could. So we all knew she had been up and uncomfortable, thank you for sharing.
    Carrie, on the other hand, looked rested and pretty.
    She patted Prue’s hand and poured her another cup of coffee.
    Prue took a sip and set the mug carefully on the bare table.  “Sorry, that’s not a solution for you, is it?”             
    “Can you be totally numb?”  I ventured.  I sipped my coffee - good, I could feel the heat, taste the coffee. I wasn’t quite dead and numb to the world.
    “Did you call Patrick?”  I asked Carrie.
    “Did you call Ben?”  Carrie asked me.
    Touché.  “Okay, I’ll go first.”  I slowly dragged my phone towards me and lifted it as if it weighed nineteen pounds.
    He answered immediately. My heart fluttered and my stomach dropped.  Which indicates that I still cared very much for this man. The thrill was there, obvious and happy.  I’m using all the wrong words.  Perhaps I’ve never really been in love?  I don’t seem to access the vocabulary that women who are in love seem to find so easily and declare so loudly. So I went for the simple.
    “I was thinking of you.” I said.
    “Ran away to your grandmother’s again didn’t you?”  He guessed immediately.
    “Maybe.”
      I looked around the kitchen. Prue was up again. She and Carrie stood together at the far counter and loaded the automatic drip machine. Brick was outside wielding a broom against the wet leaves on the path between the garage and the house.  It was about time. Raul wasn’t working at all; he was filming the kitchen scene for his blog and You Tube postings.
    “Prue needs me.” I did not say she needed help in general. Her imagined helpers would take offense and I still needed that walkway cleared off.  I kept it personal.
    “I understand.”
    “If you’re not doing anything,” I paused.   “Come up and join us.”
    “Really?  You’re ready for that?”
    “Oh sure, why not?”  I kept my voice light and breezy. It happens all the time; it was probably a blessing .
    “I’ll take that in spirit rather than tone. Okay, I will come up and you’ll have to talk to me and explain why one of the best Realtors in the county can’t find us a decent house to share.”
    I had that coming.  “I’ve been distracted,” I offered as my only defense.
    “I know,” his tone softened.  “I haven’t forgotten.  I’ll be up by afternoon.”
    “Drive safe.”
    My phone beeped.  “Gotta go.”  I hung up before he could say goodbye, but he knew what I meant.
    “ Is Ben coming up?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good, I have a leak in the upstairs bath.” Prue said with some satisfaction.
     
    I readily agreed to meet Mr. Scott Lewis at the library, my favorite building in Claim