If These Walls Could Talk by Bettye Griffin

you,” Veronica echoed. She looked at Norman again, a frown on her face. Hadn’t Eric heard them the first time?
    â€œWe do have models of all of these within walking distance,” Eric said. “We find that buyers prefer to look on their own without feeling pressure from a salesperson. But I want to make sure you understand that we’re rapidly running out of home sites in Phase I, and construction on Phase II won’t begin until the spring. Putting down a deposit today will guarantee you’ll get in Phase I.”

    â€œKind of pushy, wasn’t he?” Veronica remarked as they set out to look at the models.
    Norman shrugged. “He’s in sales. They have to be aggressive to a certain degree. But I did find it ironic that in one sentence he talks about no pressure, and in the next suggests we consider putting down a deposit . . . today.”
    â€œDo you think that was a real phone call about the lot on the lake?”
    â€œHell, no. It was really his mother calling. It might have even been her the first time. Telling people that he’ll get back to them might be code for them to call back in a few minutes and let him rant about how he can’t hold their lot any longer, like he’s talking to a real client.”
    Veronica nodded. With a smile, she said, “He certainly wasted no time trying to sell it to us, did he?”
    â€œWell, I did nibble a bit. But that’s what he was banking on. If he thought we’d be an easy sell, he was wrong.”
    The smaller furnished models they viewed paled in comparison to the larger one by the sales office, but nevertheless were bright and appealing, decorated with equally stylish furnishings. Still, put off by Eric’s tactics, overly aggressive at best and devious at the worst, they decided to look at other developments in the area as well, the ones that hadn’t been advertised on New York television. The homes there were just as nice, but the salespeople demonstrated the same buy-fast-or-lose techniques as Eric Nylund that had made them uncomfortable.
    â€œYou know, Veronica, the key here is affordability,” Norman remarked. “No one says we have to get a brand-new house.”
    â€œI guess you’re right, but there’s something so fresh about a new house where you can still smell the paint on the walls. It’s like that smell of a new car.” Not that she’d ever had one of those, either—she and Norman always bought used—but she’d ridden in vehicles of friends and relatives shortly after they left the showroom.
    â€œWe might be able to find an existing house with an asking price a lot less than what we’d pay for something new. I’ve got to tell you, I’m not impressed by any of those salespeople at the new developments. I’m glad they treated us well and made us feel welcome, but I don’t like all the high-pressure techniques.”
    â€œI know what you mean.” She mimicked one of the salespeople. “‘A price increase is scheduled to go into effect in just two weeks. You can beat it if you sign a contract today, lock in the current price.’” She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t we check a newspaper?”
    â€œBetter than that. Let’s go to a real estate office. Maybe they can set us up to view a few prospects tomorrow. If we don’t see anything we like at least they’ll be able to watch the market for us and set up appointments to view good prospects.”
    â€œWe might have to come out here a few times, huh?”
    â€œYes, but I think that’s a good thing. We’ll get to know the area better, get a feel for the people. Just don’t let the long ride discourage you. We shouldn’t have to do it very long.”

    â€œThis is nice, Norman.” Veronica looked approvingly at the bright little house. Just two bedrooms, but it was all brick, and the asking price was just eighty-five