him and he was too astute to miss such an obvious omission. Though she'd promised to avoid Karl's phone calls, that didn't mean that she couldn't call him. And that was exactly what she was planning to do. She'd sell a house this week even if it meant a few creepy moments in Karl's presence. It seemed like a small price to pay to stop feeling like a complete failure to herself and more importantly, to her family.
Chapter Seven
Serena looked at her watch again and frowned. Her ridiculously wealthy client, Larry Gilman, was very late. More than an hour had passed since she'd arrived in a panic at missing their 5 o'clock appointment. She'd nearly doubled the speed limit to be punctual, but her efforts to achieve warp speed had been wasted on Larry. He'd called to inform her that his golf game was running late just as she'd been rushing up the winding driveway to this estate. He'd be there just as soon as he could get away.
Judging from the background noise emitting from Larry's side of the conversation, Serena suspected the investment consultant was actually at the clubhouse celebrating with his portly, old buddies, but she politely agreed to wait another half hour if her client was sure he didn't want to postpone until tomorrow. He'd slurred something about seeing her in 'a while crocodile' and clicked off t he phone on a bray of laughter.
Serena sighed and took in her surroundings. Yet another disappointment today, but at least she was waiting in style. The house Larry was interested in looked like it could be featured in an upscale design magazine. It featured an infinity pool with a swim up bar, a gourmet kitchen with a granite kitchen island as big as a California king-sized bed, and five master suites. The shelf-lined library where she was waiting was adjacent to a marble-floored front foyer the size of an airplane hangar.
The Kingston Brothers had created a masterpiece out here in the middle of nowhere. A shame that old Larry was considering this place as a consolation prize for his ex-mistress, rather than the family they'd envisioned living here. Not long ago, Serena wouldn't have considered doing business with someone of Larry's questionable character, but times were tough, an d this place needed to be sold.
Part of the problem was that Larry's girlfriend didn't actually know she was an ex quite yet. She'd had the bad taste to turn thirty recently. It hadn't helped their doomed arrangement when she'd started demanding that he leave his wife of 35 years to be with her. Larry, who was quickly approaching sixty, had already replaced her with a twenty-three year-old lingerie model that was significantly less dem anding. Classy guy, that Larry.
Serena looked down at her phone and thought about calling her client back and canceling. She desperately wanted to get home to her condo and take a long bath, indulge in a short crying jag, followed by an evening of watching mindless reality television in her flannel jammies while savoring a glass or two of red wine. Hardly glamorous, but she needed the downtime to get her head on straight and create a plan for dealing with Mark without letting he r hormones get the best of her.
As much as she wanted to give Larry the brush off, she couldn't do it. He was going back to New York tomorrow morning, and if he was nursing a hangover there was no way he'd make the time to meet her before his plane took off at 10 o'clock. She needed to see him tonight if she wanted to make this sale. Despite her misgivings regarding Larry's method for dumping his mistress, she knew if he saw this place he'd be making an offer. If she could just hold out until he managed to drag his drunk ass out of that bar and into his limousine, she would finally end her professional dry spell.
Getting up from her perch in the window seat, she stood up to stretch her legs. Looking out at the darkening autumn sky she felt a little uneasy for the first time. There wasn't another house for miles, but there were
Chapter Seven
Serena looked at her watch again and frowned. Her ridiculously wealthy client, Larry Gilman, was very late. More than an hour had passed since she'd arrived in a panic at missing their 5 o'clock appointment. She'd nearly doubled the speed limit to be punctual, but her efforts to achieve warp speed had been wasted on Larry. He'd called to inform her that his golf game was running late just as she'd been rushing up the winding driveway to this estate. He'd be there just as soon as he could get away.
Judging from the background noise emitting from Larry's side of the conversation, Serena suspected the investment consultant was actually at the clubhouse celebrating with his portly, old buddies, but she politely agreed to wait another half hour if her client was sure he didn't want to postpone until tomorrow. He'd slurred something about seeing her in 'a while crocodile' and clicked off t he phone on a bray of laughter.
Serena sighed and took in her surroundings. Yet another disappointment today, but at least she was waiting in style. The house Larry was interested in looked like it could be featured in an upscale design magazine. It featured an infinity pool with a swim up bar, a gourmet kitchen with a granite kitchen island as big as a California king-sized bed, and five master suites. The shelf-lined library where she was waiting was adjacent to a marble-floored front foyer the size of an airplane hangar.
The Kingston Brothers had created a masterpiece out here in the middle of nowhere. A shame that old Larry was considering this place as a consolation prize for his ex-mistress, rather than the family they'd envisioned living here. Not long ago, Serena wouldn't have considered doing business with someone of Larry's questionable character, but times were tough, an d this place needed to be sold.
Part of the problem was that Larry's girlfriend didn't actually know she was an ex quite yet. She'd had the bad taste to turn thirty recently. It hadn't helped their doomed arrangement when she'd started demanding that he leave his wife of 35 years to be with her. Larry, who was quickly approaching sixty, had already replaced her with a twenty-three year-old lingerie model that was significantly less dem anding. Classy guy, that Larry.
Serena looked down at her phone and thought about calling her client back and canceling. She desperately wanted to get home to her condo and take a long bath, indulge in a short crying jag, followed by an evening of watching mindless reality television in her flannel jammies while savoring a glass or two of red wine. Hardly glamorous, but she needed the downtime to get her head on straight and create a plan for dealing with Mark without letting he r hormones get the best of her.
As much as she wanted to give Larry the brush off, she couldn't do it. He was going back to New York tomorrow morning, and if he was nursing a hangover there was no way he'd make the time to meet her before his plane took off at 10 o'clock. She needed to see him tonight if she wanted to make this sale. Despite her misgivings regarding Larry's method for dumping his mistress, she knew if he saw this place he'd be making an offer. If she could just hold out until he managed to drag his drunk ass out of that bar and into his limousine, she would finally end her professional dry spell.
Getting up from her perch in the window seat, she stood up to stretch her legs. Looking out at the darkening autumn sky she felt a little uneasy for the first time. There wasn't another house for miles, but there were
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