Three Bedrooms, One Corpse - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,30
one dress I’d been saving for something fancy, if only I had the guts to wear it. It was teal and it shone; it was a little above the knee and had a low neckline and was cut exactly along my body. I took it out of the closet and eyed it nervously. It wasn’t what I thought of as indecent, but it certainly complemented my figure.
Now came the indecent part. On the same day, I’d bought an amazing black lace bra and a matching garter belt. This was being seriously naughty for me, and I had been very embarrassed at the cash register. With a sense of casting all caution to the winds, I laid out these garments on the bed, along with some sheer black hose and high-heeled black pumps, and hoped I wouldn’t disgrace myself by falling over in them. I wasn’t at all sure I had enough confidence to wear this ensemble, but the time was now, if ever. I would aim for this, and if my confidence seeped away during the day and I wore more ordinary undergarments, no one would know I’d chickened out but myself.
It was now almost time for Eileen to come, and I walked through the whole townhouse checking it for details. Everything was clean, orderly, and inviting. I only hoped I wouldn’t run into Martin today, since I looked my worst right now.
The doorbell rang at one o’clock on the dot, and when I opened it with my purse in hand and coat halfway on, I was relieved to see Eileen wasn’t wearing one of her “realtor” outfits, but a pair of nice slacks and a blouse, with a bright fuchsia jacket and sneakers.
“Hi, Roe! Ready to start looking?”
“Sure, Eileen. Is the wind blowing?”
“You bet, and colder than a witch’s tit.”
At least it wasn’t raining or snowing. But by the look of the leaden sky and the way the trees were tossing, it felt as if it would be raining before long.
“You seemed unsure about what you really wanted,” Eileen began when we were buckled up, “so I just called around and found out what I could show you today, in your size and price range. We have five houses to see.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Yes, better than I expected at such short notice. The first one’s on Rosemary. Here’s the sheet on it... it has three bedrooms, two baths, a large kitchen and family room, a formal living room, small yard, and is all electric .. .”
The house on Rosemary needed new carpet and a new roof. That was not insurmountable. What struck it off my list was the narrow lot. My neighbors could look right in my bedroom window and shake hands with me, if they should be so inclined. I’d had too many years of townhouse living for that. If I was going to own a house, I wanted privacy.
The next house had four bedrooms, which I liked, and a poky kitchen with no storage room, which I didn’t.
The third house, a two-story in a rather run-down part of Lawrenceton, was most attractive. It needed some renovation, but I could pay for that. I loved the master bedroom, and I loved the breakfast area overlooking the backyard. But the house next door had been divided into apartments, and I didn’t like the thought of all the in-and-out traffic—there again, I’d had enough.
The fourth house was a possible. It was a smaller house in a very nice area of town, which meant it cost the same as a larger home elsewhere. But it was only ten years old, was in excellent shape, and had a beautifully landscaped, low-maintenance yard and lots of closets. Also a Jacuzzi in the master bath, which I eyed with interest. It was over my price limit, but not too drastically.
By the time we pulled up in front of the fifth house, Eileen and I had learned a lot about each other. Eileen was intelligent, conscientious, made a note to find out the answer to each and every small query I had, tried to stay out of my way as I considered each property, and was in general a really great realtor. She at least pretended to consider that not knowing exactly what you wanted was normal.
I was trying to overlook things that I could do something about if I were really interested in the house, and concentrate instead on things that would absolutely knock the house out of the running. These things could be pretty