appointments in Europe: Brussels, Amsterdam, Rome, Milan, London, Glasgow, Berlin, and Paris. It was going to be a long trip. And it already felt as though he had been gone for years.
"Miss Daniels?" The real estate agent dragged her back from her reverie with a touch on the arm.
"I'm sorry. ... I was dreaming.... Was there something else?" Naomi Liebson had apparently disappeared into the kitchen again. She wanted to look again, to try to envision how it would look if they broke through two walls. From the sound of what she'd been saying, she was going to gut the place anyway, upstairs and down. It made Bettina wonder why she didn't buy something more to her liking, but apparently this was what she did for fun. She had performed similar mutilation on five co-ops in as many years. But then she sold them again at enormous profits, so maybe she wasn't so crazy after all. Bettina looked curiously at the realtor, and then smiled. "Think shell buy it?"
The realtor shrugged. "I don't know. I'm bringing two more people by later today. I don't think they're right for it though. It's too big for them, and one couple is elderly, and you've got too many stairs."
"Then why bring them?" Bettina looked at her with fatigue beginning to pull down the corners of her delicate mouth. But she hadn't been able to resist asking. Why did they all come? There were people who wanted more bedrooms, older people who didn't want stairs, large families who needed more servants' rooms than even she had; there had been people for whom the apartment could never have been right, yet the realtors continued to come in droves, showing the place off to only a handful for whom the place made some sense. It seemed like a monstrous waste of time, but it was all part of the game.
And then of course it was Justin Daniels's apartment, and that was always worth a thrill.... "Why are they selling? ..." Again and again Bettina had heard the whispers. And then the answer, "He died and left the daughter flat broke...." The first time she had cringed when she heard it, and angry tears of indignation had stung her eyes.... How dare they! How could they? But they dared and they could. And it didn't matter anymore. She just wanted to sell the place and get out. Ivo was right, it was too big and too lonely, and now and then she had been scared. But the worst of it was that she couldn't afford it, and each month when the gargantuan maintenance was due, she trembled as she depleted her dwindling funds still more. It was high time that someone bought it. Naomi Liebson or whoever else.
The other houses had all sold after the first of the year. The one in Beverly Hills brought a windfall a few weeks before. The young man from the Middle East had bought it, lock, stock, and barrel, with carpets, dressers, eighteenth-century mirrors, modern paintings, and all. The place had always been an odd melange of the extremely showy and the very refined and Bettina had never liked it as much as the apartment in New York. It barely hurt at all to sign the papers. Now all that remained abroad was the flat in London, but according to Ivo that was almost empty now. He had called from over there. Her father's London solicitor had also assured her that he had someone to buy the place. He would let her know at the end of the week. Which left only the co-operative apartment on Fifth Avenue in New York. Even that wasn't going to look the same in another two weeks. She sighed to herself again as she thought of the auction. They had moved the date up, as a favor. And in ten days Parke-Bernet was arriving to take it all. Literally everything. She had spent the three weeks of Ivo's absence going over each table, each bookcase, each chair. In the end she knew she could hang on to nothing, only a few mementos, some small objects that had no value, but meant something to her.
But other than that there would be nothing left that was hers after the auction, and she hoped to have sold the apartment by then.
"Miss Daniels?" The real estate agent dragged her back from her reverie with a touch on the arm.
"I'm sorry. ... I was dreaming.... Was there something else?" Naomi Liebson had apparently disappeared into the kitchen again. She wanted to look again, to try to envision how it would look if they broke through two walls. From the sound of what she'd been saying, she was going to gut the place anyway, upstairs and down. It made Bettina wonder why she didn't buy something more to her liking, but apparently this was what she did for fun. She had performed similar mutilation on five co-ops in as many years. But then she sold them again at enormous profits, so maybe she wasn't so crazy after all. Bettina looked curiously at the realtor, and then smiled. "Think shell buy it?"
The realtor shrugged. "I don't know. I'm bringing two more people by later today. I don't think they're right for it though. It's too big for them, and one couple is elderly, and you've got too many stairs."
"Then why bring them?" Bettina looked at her with fatigue beginning to pull down the corners of her delicate mouth. But she hadn't been able to resist asking. Why did they all come? There were people who wanted more bedrooms, older people who didn't want stairs, large families who needed more servants' rooms than even she had; there had been people for whom the apartment could never have been right, yet the realtors continued to come in droves, showing the place off to only a handful for whom the place made some sense. It seemed like a monstrous waste of time, but it was all part of the game.
And then of course it was Justin Daniels's apartment, and that was always worth a thrill.... "Why are they selling? ..." Again and again Bettina had heard the whispers. And then the answer, "He died and left the daughter flat broke...." The first time she had cringed when she heard it, and angry tears of indignation had stung her eyes.... How dare they! How could they? But they dared and they could. And it didn't matter anymore. She just wanted to sell the place and get out. Ivo was right, it was too big and too lonely, and now and then she had been scared. But the worst of it was that she couldn't afford it, and each month when the gargantuan maintenance was due, she trembled as she depleted her dwindling funds still more. It was high time that someone bought it. Naomi Liebson or whoever else.
The other houses had all sold after the first of the year. The one in Beverly Hills brought a windfall a few weeks before. The young man from the Middle East had bought it, lock, stock, and barrel, with carpets, dressers, eighteenth-century mirrors, modern paintings, and all. The place had always been an odd melange of the extremely showy and the very refined and Bettina had never liked it as much as the apartment in New York. It barely hurt at all to sign the papers. Now all that remained abroad was the flat in London, but according to Ivo that was almost empty now. He had called from over there. Her father's London solicitor had also assured her that he had someone to buy the place. He would let her know at the end of the week. Which left only the co-operative apartment on Fifth Avenue in New York. Even that wasn't going to look the same in another two weeks. She sighed to herself again as she thought of the auction. They had moved the date up, as a favor. And in ten days Parke-Bernet was arriving to take it all. Literally everything. She had spent the three weeks of Ivo's absence going over each table, each bookcase, each chair. In the end she knew she could hang on to nothing, only a few mementos, some small objects that had no value, but meant something to her.
But other than that there would be nothing left that was hers after the auction, and she hoped to have sold the apartment by then.
Similar Books
