The Girl On Legare Street by Karen White Read Free Book Online Page B

been going through it. He wore a golf shirt under a warm Windbreaker and khakis, like he’d been yanked off of the sixteenth hole somewhere, and my mood shifted from simple apprehension to sheer terror.
    “Good morning, Dave. It’s so good to see you.” I plastered a smile on my face so he wouldn’t know I was lying.
    He continued to read the paper without looking up. “Interesting story in today’s paper. They’re going to raise that sailboat they found off of Sullivan’s Island a few weeks ago. The divers they sent down discovered the name of the boat, apparently one that’s been missing since the earthquake of 1886. It’s in a relatively shallow area and they’re thinking they can raise it intact. If not, they’ll just salvage what they can.” He rattled the paper as he turned the page. “People are almost as excited as they were when they discovered the Hunley .”
    “Interesting,” I said, entering my office slowly and putting my purse and briefcase on a chair before sitting down opposite him. I had no idea what he was talking about, since the only thing I used the newspaper for was to examine the real estate listings.
    “You are familiar with the Hunley , right?”
    I forced myself not to roll my eyes at him. One could not be a Charlestonian and not know about the Confederate submarine that had sunk almost one and a half centuries before and had recently been raised to great fanfare. I might not know how many points the Dow average had plummeted in the last weeks, but I knew about the Hunley .
    I glanced down at my opened calendar and began to feel a little annoyed. I flicked my eyes up, realizing that Dave was watching me.
    “You’ve got a pretty busy schedule this week, Melanie.”
    Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. I smiled, keeping my lips from quivering. “Yes. I do. Business has been very good, despite the real estate market not being what we’d want it to be right now. I’ve already met my sales quota for the month and we’re only halfway through.”
    He began folding up the newspaper, making deliberate sharp creases as he folded it smaller and smaller. I began to feel nervous again. He slapped the newspaper on my desk and stood. I stood, too, not wanting to give him the advantage of towering over me. With heels, we were on an even keel.
    “But you’d still be able to fit in a new client or two,” he said, examining me closely with brown eyes that were rumored to have made grown men cry.
    I swallowed. “Of course. I pride myself on being organized and diligent, and I’m more than capable of handling a fairly large workload. You know that, Mr. Henderson.”
    He put his fists on my desk and leaned toward me, his face flushing a little. “Then why would you send a celebrity client to Jimmy Thorn-hill instead of taking her on yourself ? Especially when she’s your own mother?”
    I drew myself up to my full height, my anger greedily taking over my apprehension. “Because Jimmy needs the boost of confidence a big sale could give him. My mother knows the house she wants, so it wouldn’t stress him very much. She just needs somebody to handle the paperwork for her.” I glared at him. “And why should it matter to you? Henderson Realty gets credit for the sale regardless of who handles it.”
    He came around the desk so that he stood in front of me. “I care when a potential client has to call me personally to ask for another Realtor.”
    I swallowed, forcing myself to make my voice sound strong. “My mother called you?”
    “Yes. We’re acquaintances from years ago. She was almost in tears when she called me, wondering why you wouldn’t help her.”
    “And what did you tell her?” My two donuts and latte fell firmly into the pit of my stomach.
    He smiled his closing smile—the smile I knew meant that business was over and he’d won. “I told her that you would call her this morning to schedule a showing of the Legare Street property.” He straightened.