and earned three degrees in seven years flat. Since I sold real estate for my dad on the side, I graduated with zero student debt.”
“Good for you,” I said. “That probably explains why there’s a shiny Boxster S parked just outside.”
“Right,” Suzanne agreed with a grin, but once the grin faded, she was all business. “I bought it a few months ago. Tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Beaumont,” she added.
There could be no doubt that Suzanne was a crackerjack when it came to sales. She’d heard my name one time only and had made a mental note of it. You can always count on commissioned salespeople and politicians to remember people’s names.
Now came the time for me to spin my bit of yarn. “My wife—my current wife, that is—and I live in a downtown condo in Belltown,” I told her. “We’ve been through a bit of a rough patch lately, and counseling isn’t helping. If we do split up, I’ll need to downsize. With traffic so jammed up in the downtown corridor these days, I thought a move to someplace in the burbs might be just what the doctor ordered.”
“I’m sorry to hear that you’re encountering marital difficulties,” Suzanne said with an understanding smile, “but when life throws you those kinds of curves, it’s always a good idea to have a backup plan.”
There was a small conference table in one corner of the room, and that’s where she directed me. On it was a stack of beautifully designed color brochures entitled Homes at Mayfield Glen.
“What’s Mayfield?” I asked.
“The land we’re building on was once part of a farm that was originally settled by one of West Seattle’s earliest residents, a guy named Harold Mayfield. It was subdivided into lots in the twenties with plans to build single-family dwellings, but once the Great Depression came along, that never came to fruition—until now. Last fall several pieces of property came into the hands of an heir who was willing to sell, and here we are. It’s taking more time than expected to get permits and approvals, so we’re not ready to break ground just yet.”
I thumbed through the brochure. “None of these are view properties?”
“Not really,” Suzanne answered. “One has a peekaboo view of the downtown Seattle skyline from the upstairs master bedroom. Unfortunately, that one is already spoken for.”
“You’ve sold one of the houses without even having broken ground?”
She smiled. “That’s the reality when it comes to Seattle real estate these days. The nine-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar price tag is for standard builder’s-grade materials. As a pre-reconstruction buyer, you could have a bit of a discount off that. You could also choose to add in a number of upgrades in terms of customizing, appliances, and finishes.”
“May I take one?” I asked, picking up a brochure.
“Of course,” she said with a smile. “That’s why they’re here. In addition, our real-estate division represents many other properties if you’re interested in something a little smaller.”
I rose to my feet. “Thank you so much,” I said. “Obviously, I’m not ready to make any kind of decision just yet, but I’m glad to have this in my back pocket as a possible option.”
“When you are ready, Mr. Beaumont, please give me a call,” she said, handing over a business card of her own that included a whole panoply of telephone numbers. “We’ll be only too happy to be of service.”
Chapter 11
BACK IN THE CAR WITHOUT HAVING LEARNED MUCH OF anything, I used my iPad to locate a nearby park on Cloverdale and took Lucy for a quick but chilly walk. It turns out that time spent dog walking is also good for thinking. Once Lucy was finished, I knew where we were going next—the King County Recorder’s Office in the courthouse on Fourth Avenue in downtown Seattle. The nearest parking garage with any availability was two blocks away at Second and Cherry. Walking there made me wonder how Alan was doing with his part of the operation.
Entering the fusty, marble-floored building that is the center of King County government felt very familiar. I had been there for countless courtroom proceedings, but this was my first time stopping by the Recorder’s Office. It was high noon when I stepped into the main waiting room. I expected a crowd at the front desk, but there wasn’t one. Evidently these days most people do their searches online rather than going straight to the horse’s mouth.
I spent a lot of years in the world of old-school bureaucracy. In those days it