Chapter 2
* * * *
She really should have said no.
In their database, she only found two homes of interest, and of course they were on opposite sides of town. At five o’clock during rush hour traffic, it would take a good thirty minutes to get from one to the other, and that was only if the interstate was clear. Add in the time the client would spend at each home, and Joanne was looking at an hour overtime, tops. But if it landed her a sale…
However, though the client had sounded really interested on the phone, she was less than enthusiastic in person. Joanne drove her to the first home, sure the woman would love it, but she spent most of her time fiddling with her smart phone as Joanne led her through the rooms. Maybe she’s taking pictures,Joanne thought. Or, who knows? Facetiming with her husband so he can see the place, too.
But when Joanne snuck a peek over the woman’s shoulder, she saw a game of Words With Friends in progress. Dull anger rose within her. Seriously? I’m wasting my evening on this?In a clipped voice, she suggested, “If you’d rather we picked this up again tomorrow…”
“What? No,” the woman said hurriedly, pocketing her phone. “I was just checking my e-mail. I’m waiting on a message from my boyfriend.”
Lying bitch. Joanne bit the inside of her lip to keep from saying the words out loud.
Though she knew she should have called it a night, Joanne agreed to show the second home. This time the woman’s phone stayed in her pocket, but Joanne could tell her heart wasn’t in the visit. With a sigh, the woman told her, “I’m really looking for something a bit…I don’t know. Larger?”
“You said you wanted a bungalow,” Joanne pointed out.
“Maybe something split-level?” her client asked.
Joanne suppressed a growl of frustration. “That’s a completely different kind of house.”
The woman nodded, her mind made up. “That’s what I want. Do you have any of those available?”
By then it was already after seven. “I’ll have to look,” Joanne said.
The woman stood, waiting, as if she expected Joanne to pull out an iPad and start searching right that minute.
Joanne clarified, “Tomorrow, when I get back to the office—”
“Oh, I was hoping to see some more homes tonight,” the woman complained.
The next home I’m going to is my own,Joanne thought, irritated. Had she really once thought going into real estate would be fun?
* * * *
At the top of the steps leading to her apartment, Joanne saw a white piece of paper wedged between her door knob and the jamb. Her first thought was a maintenance notice—a scheduled filter change, or maybe the water would be off for a few hours the next morning, something like that. She carried a briefcase in one hand, a paper bag and soda from Hardee’s in the other. Her purse swung precariously from her shoulder. Shifting her dinner into the crook of her arm, she plucked out the paper with her free hand and shook it open.
It wasn’t from maintenance. It was from Miranda. Damn.
Came to get my mail,the letter read, the words written in harsh script. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be here when you said you would. Six o’clock my ass. I waited twenty minutes and then said the hell with it. This is why we didn’t work out. Next time leave my stuff with the rental office and I’ll pick it up there. M
Dull anger rose in Joanne and she crumpled the note in her fist. FuckMiranda. Joanne hadn’t said she’d meet her at six—she said she’d try. They’d lived together for five and half years, so it should have come as no surprise when Joanne had to work late. She alwaysworked late, or so Miranda liked to think. If she needed her mail so badly, the bitch should’ve had the post office forward it when she moved out.
I am notgoing to let her get to me tonight,Joanne thought as she fumbled for her keys. It wasn’t as if Miranda had any real mail waiting for her, anyway. Just a handful of bills Joanne knew she paid online and maybe an envelope of coupons from her mother. Nothing earth-shattering.
Still, I could’ve let her know I was running late…
No, Joanne wouldn’t let herself go there, not after the crappy day she’d had. When had she had time to text Miranda? And if Miranda was waiting so damn long, why didn’t she call and let Joanne know? She probably only waited five minutes, tops. For all Joanne knew, Miranda could’ve had the note written up ahead of time. How’d she put it? Should’ve known you wouldn’t be here…This is why we didn’t work out.