Page 10 of Why Cheese?
Hours pass, most of my time spent struggling to lift a single shelf. They’re heavier than they look, or I have the muscle density of a wet sponge. Both seem possible. I don’t notice that it’s nearing nightfall and dinner until my stomach rumbles.
“What do you want?” I ask it.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.”
I leap in shock, accidentally flinging a mess of garbage into the air like confetti. As the old wrappers tumble around me like trash snow, I catch the realtor who’s helping me sell this place. Uncle Mateo’s lawyers told me about him. He seems helpful, and it’s not like I know any others in this city.
Deploying his megawatt smile directly into my eyes, the realtor bends over and offers me a hand.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t get any on your suit?” I ask, growing aware of how much old cheese was in the garbage I threw.
“Nah.” He sweeps a hand down his blue pinstripe jacket, then cranes his head around. “How are things going?”
“Good, good,” I lie unconvincingly. Anyone with a brainstem can tell this place is a disaster.
“Do you mind if I take a few measurements? For the listing, of course.”
“Ah, no, Mr…”Oh god, why did I say that? I don’t remember his name.
His smile doesn’t even flicker. “Walker, but please call me Josh.” He spins out a business card with a picture of him where his teeth are whiter than the background.
I take it and nod my thanks. With a whistle, Josh walks around the place. He inspects the windows and knocks on the walls. I read over his business card so it doesn’t seem like I’m watching him.
Josh Walker. Senior commercial real estate agent.Hmm, he looks kinda young to be a senior.
“Good bones.”
“What?” I gulp.
He smiles brighter. “The building. It’s got good bones. Needs a coat of paint, all of this cleared out, then we can do a proper staging. I’m thinking you could get five maybe ten.”
“Thousand?” I stutter, completely lost. That’s not a lot but with the stipend my uncle left me for the store, it could be a new start.
Josh laughs. “Million.”
My jaw drops. My knees weave and…is my heart exploding? Clasping a hand to my chest, I fight to breathe. When the lawyers kept telling me this was a generous gift, I thought they meant it was like getting a box of sausages for Christmas.
Five million dollars…
“Who knew some old cheese geezer owned one of the hottest properties in the Sirloin district.”
Through the absolute panic that I might sneeze wrong and set five million dollars ablaze, I glare at Mr. Walker. “My uncle was—”
“Oh, a saint of a man. People loved him. He’d bring baskets of cheese to homebound grannies. Wonderful. The world is darker without him in it,” he whips out his spiel so fast my head spins. Then Mr. Walker slams his heel to the ground. “Solid. Is there anything else you’ve found about the property?”
“Found?” I squeak.Like, say a mysterious basement that four men broke into? Four muscled men who don’t seem to believe in the sanctity of pants?
“You know leaks, mold, wood rot. That sort of thing?”
“Ah.” I glance at the secret ladder and shake my head. “Nothing like that.”
“Wonderful. Well, I need to jet. But we should catch up over coffee.”
“I don’t like coffee,” I say.
“Great, great.” He unwinds a light scarf from out of his jacket and wraps it around his neck. “Call my secretary and we’ll get it all sorted out. Oh, and I’ll call someone to get you—”
Help?
