Page 20 of You'll Love it Here

“I’d just need a small bit of help from you.”

There it is. The hope refuses to dissipate even though my brain knows realtors are not always the honest, upstanding citizens we civilians see them as. “So, let’s hear the catch,” I say, bolder than I’ve felt in days.

“I’d just need your help, getting this building in working order again—just enough that a private buyer could see its true potential.”

“So, all I need to do is get it ready to sell?”

“Yes! And it would be, of course, best to keep the upcoming listing discreet. Wouldn’t want to fluster the tenants when we’re not even sure anything will change. And my aunt, well, she’s so attached to the old place. I want to make it simple for her when the time comes.”

An instant red flag draws up in my head. “Hiding it from my landlady doesn’t seem—”

“Believe me, I get it.” Again, her voice softens as she leanscloser. Her now-familiar perfume wafts my way. “My aunt is having a difficult time, not just this past week, but also... I just don’t think she’ll ever feel okay letting go.” She exhales loudly. “It’s really hard because she knows shehas tosell, but it’s very emotional for her. All I want to do is get the building in a position where she’d be peaceful with its fate so that she can live her final chapter of life with dignity.”

“That’s fair.” She makes a good point. I suspect Irene would be better off doing anything else with her golden years.

“She believes the buildingneedsher to run smoothly and that nobody else can take care of it the way she can. I really want to seize this opportunity while she’s in recovery and show her it’s okay to step back.”

I nod but don’t say more.

“So that’s why your discretion is important as you prep the property, but also, we really need to show my aunt that she’s not needed anymore. That she can step away for good and have someone else run things and things will be okay without her there.”

I nod again. The scent of my cooking burrito is curling our way. A hint of shame floating with it.

“Tenants go to my aunt often, and she means well, but it flusters her. While she’s healing, I want to keep things peaceful. So I want to ensure that nobody reaches out to her while she’s in recovery.”

“That makes sense. She should be resting.”

“Exactly.” Lana’s voice lowers just the tiniest bit. “And, of course, we don’t want to cause alarm with the tenants either. You never know what can happen when people suspect big change like this.”

There it is. The ickiness that always comes. Of course, there’s a good chance the next owner will increase rent—something most tenants here likely can’t afford. We can’t even muster onerealporno DVD for our library FFS. And my dreams of moving somewhere better dissolve as soon as they form. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel right about it.”

Her tone somehow softens even more as her eyes cast down. “Believe me, Mona. I get it, but I will say that unfortunately if we are unable to sell it soon, this place will be doomed, my aunt and the tenants with it. She cannot continue to manage this, and financially... what she’s charging the current tenants is not viable and hasn’t been for some time. It’s draining her future nest egg.” She sighs again. “I’m her only relative that can help. If we can’t get it sold this way, unfortunately it will have to end up in a developer’s hands in six months, tops.”

“I see,” I say, because I don’t have any better ideas. I don’t know what my problem is. I can normally compartmentalize the parts that feel wrong using Lana’s exact reasoning. It’s just the idea of sneakily doing this to Irene... I hardly know her or these people, but it’s more than I know most clients and consumers.

I’m off my game. Ever since that meeting, it’s like I messed up my brain.

“Mona, I’m not asking you to do anything overtly deceptive.” It’s like she’s reading my mind, but there’s a soft pleading quality to her voice. “Selling the building is on me. All I’m asking from you is some help improving the building. And that helps everyone here.”

It hits me. It’s the way she’s negotiating. It feels like sheneedsme to do this. And that always gives me the feeling like I should be countering. But even that doesn’t make sense. The new apartment is better than I could’ve dreamed, so why doesn’t it feel like enough?

“I mean... I’m not totally against it but I just don’t know, it still feels...”

“I understand. Tell you what, why don’t I just send over more details of what I need from you, then you can decide. I’ll also goahead and send some brochures for One Lofts so you can picture your new life while you’re at it.” She backs out the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Okay,” I reply as I wave her off. “Sounds good.”

It’s when I’m settled on the couch, burning my tongue on that first inferno bite of burrito, that an email buzzes into my phone:

Subject: Your New Life

Oh god.

I click open the attached brochure. Everything pictured in the building is glossy and modern. I bet they don’t have that weird smell in the hallway of the second floor.

I reread the subject of the email and try to picture my new life there. Preparing meals in the kitchen; proudly hosting my friends without feeling self-conscious of the water stain on the corner of the ceiling or wondering whether Divorced Dad is going to yell when the Flames score a goal and ruin the illusion that my life isn’t a little shitty. I picture myself getting ready for work using that closet that doesn’t have a door that catches and hides half my clothes. It seems like exactly what I’d want, and just as quickly I deflate. It’s a little bit more than I can swing, and there’s a good chance I won’t be getting promoted this year, after all.

I pick up the phone. I now have a counteroffer. As soon as we exchange greetings, I say, “Thanks again for sending the tasks over. I’m happy to do all the prep work shared, and I’ll make sure that Irene isn’t bothered. One additional ask.”