make my client happy. A year down the road, I want you to have no regrets about whatever you decide to do, whether it’s buying or not buying.”
“Then I’m in good hands.” Her blue-gray eyes—Decker had never seen eyes that color—brightened. “I’d like to start looking as soon as possible.”
“I have appointments until two. Is that soon enough?”
“No instant gratification?” She laughed a little. The sound reminded Decker of wind chimes, although he sensed a pensiveness behind it. “I guess two o’clock it will have to be.”
“In the meantime, if you can give me an idea of your price range ... How do you like to be called? Mrs. Dwyer? Or Beth? Or ...?” Decker glanced at her left hand. He didn’t see a wedding ring. But that didn’t always mean anything. “I’m not married.”
Decker nodded.
“Call me by my first name.”
Decker nodded again. “Fine, Beth.” His throat felt tight. “And my price range is between six and eight hundred thousand.”
Decker inwardly came to attention, not having expected so high a figure. Normally, when potential clients came in to discuss houses in the upper six figures, they brought an attitude with them, as if they were doing Decker a big favor. In contrast, Beth was refreshingly natural, unassuming.
“Several first-rate properties are available in that price range,” Decker said. “Between now and two, why don’t you study these listings. There are prices and descriptions.” He decided to fish for more information about her. “You’ll probably want to discuss them with anyone who came to town with you. If you like, when we go out looking, bring a friend along.”
“No. It’ll be just the two of us.”
Decker nodded. “Either way is fine.”
Beth hesitated. “I’m by myself.”
“Well, Santa Fe is a good town to be alone in without being lonely.”
Beth seemed to look at something far away. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
2
After Decker escorted Beth to the exit from the building, he remained at the open door and watched her stroll along the portal-roofed sidewalk. She had a grace that reminded him of the way female athletes moved when they weren’t exerting themselves. Before she reached the corner, he made sure to step back inside the building in case she looked his way as she shifted direction. After all, he didn’t want her to know that he was staring at her. In response to a question, he had told her that a good place to eat lunch was La Casa Sena, a restaurant that had outdoor tables beneath majestic shade trees in the gardened courtyard of a two-story Hispanic estate that dated back to the 1860s. She would enjoy the birds, the flowers, and the fountain, he had said, and now he wished that he was going there with her instead of heading off to deliver the buyer’s offer that he had been working on when Beth arrived.
Normally, the chance to make another sale would have totally occupied Decker’s thoughts, giving him a high. But today, business didn’t seem that important. After presenting the offer and being told, as expected, that the seller needed the time allowed in the offer to consider it, Decker had a further appointment—lunch with a member of Santa Fe’s Historic Design Review Board. Barely tasting his chicken fajitas, he managed to keep up his end of the conversation, but really, he was thinking of Beth Dwyer, their appointment at two, and how slowly the time was going.
Why, I’m missing her, he thought in surprise.
At last, after paying for lunch, he returned to the agency, only to feel his emotions drop when he found that Beth wasn’t waiting for him.
“The woman who came in to see me this morning,” he told the receptionist. “Thick auburn hair. Slightly tall. Attractive. Has she been back?”
“Sorry, Steve.”
Disappointed, he went down the corridor. Maybe she came in when the receptionist wasn’t looking, he thought. Maybe she’s waiting for me in my office.
But she wasn’t, and as his
“Then I’m in good hands.” Her blue-gray eyes—Decker had never seen eyes that color—brightened. “I’d like to start looking as soon as possible.”
“I have appointments until two. Is that soon enough?”
“No instant gratification?” She laughed a little. The sound reminded Decker of wind chimes, although he sensed a pensiveness behind it. “I guess two o’clock it will have to be.”
“In the meantime, if you can give me an idea of your price range ... How do you like to be called? Mrs. Dwyer? Or Beth? Or ...?” Decker glanced at her left hand. He didn’t see a wedding ring. But that didn’t always mean anything. “I’m not married.”
Decker nodded.
“Call me by my first name.”
Decker nodded again. “Fine, Beth.” His throat felt tight. “And my price range is between six and eight hundred thousand.”
Decker inwardly came to attention, not having expected so high a figure. Normally, when potential clients came in to discuss houses in the upper six figures, they brought an attitude with them, as if they were doing Decker a big favor. In contrast, Beth was refreshingly natural, unassuming.
“Several first-rate properties are available in that price range,” Decker said. “Between now and two, why don’t you study these listings. There are prices and descriptions.” He decided to fish for more information about her. “You’ll probably want to discuss them with anyone who came to town with you. If you like, when we go out looking, bring a friend along.”
“No. It’ll be just the two of us.”
Decker nodded. “Either way is fine.”
Beth hesitated. “I’m by myself.”
“Well, Santa Fe is a good town to be alone in without being lonely.”
Beth seemed to look at something far away. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
2
After Decker escorted Beth to the exit from the building, he remained at the open door and watched her stroll along the portal-roofed sidewalk. She had a grace that reminded him of the way female athletes moved when they weren’t exerting themselves. Before she reached the corner, he made sure to step back inside the building in case she looked his way as she shifted direction. After all, he didn’t want her to know that he was staring at her. In response to a question, he had told her that a good place to eat lunch was La Casa Sena, a restaurant that had outdoor tables beneath majestic shade trees in the gardened courtyard of a two-story Hispanic estate that dated back to the 1860s. She would enjoy the birds, the flowers, and the fountain, he had said, and now he wished that he was going there with her instead of heading off to deliver the buyer’s offer that he had been working on when Beth arrived.
Normally, the chance to make another sale would have totally occupied Decker’s thoughts, giving him a high. But today, business didn’t seem that important. After presenting the offer and being told, as expected, that the seller needed the time allowed in the offer to consider it, Decker had a further appointment—lunch with a member of Santa Fe’s Historic Design Review Board. Barely tasting his chicken fajitas, he managed to keep up his end of the conversation, but really, he was thinking of Beth Dwyer, their appointment at two, and how slowly the time was going.
Why, I’m missing her, he thought in surprise.
At last, after paying for lunch, he returned to the agency, only to feel his emotions drop when he found that Beth wasn’t waiting for him.
“The woman who came in to see me this morning,” he told the receptionist. “Thick auburn hair. Slightly tall. Attractive. Has she been back?”
“Sorry, Steve.”
Disappointed, he went down the corridor. Maybe she came in when the receptionist wasn’t looking, he thought. Maybe she’s waiting for me in my office.
But she wasn’t, and as his
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