“But… I think I’d like to look at the other house again,” Masha says. “The one on Whatever Creek Road. I’m intrigued by the outdoor space. And I definitely want a garden shed, like that guy said. What was his name?”
“Benton,” Eddie says. “Benton Coe.”
Eddie forgot that the week following Christmas Stroll is the busiest week in real estate. Everyone who has come to enjoy the holiday charm and whimsy of the island now wants to own a piece of it.
It’s Thursday when Raja calls. Eddie hopes that the reason it has taken him so long is because he has been in heated debates with Masha and has emerged victorious.
“Raja,” Eddie says. “What’s the good word?”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” Raja says. “And I keep coming back to the piece of advice my father gave me when I got married.”
“Oh, really?” Eddie says. “What was that?”
“He said, ‘Happy wife, happy life.’ It sounds elementary, I know, but I happen to believe those words are true.”
Happy wife, happy life. Eddie has never cottoned to that phrase; he’s always cast it aside into a basket of platitudes that includes Money can’t buy happiness. Of course money can buy happiness; denying that makes you sound like an idealistic simpleton. And yet who has subscribed to the adage of Happy wife, happy life more than Eddie? He has given Grace his enthusiastic blessing to work for her former lover, just so she will be fulfilled.
“I agree with you, Raja,” Eddie says. “A hundred percent.”
“So I’d like to surprise Masha and buy her the inn for Christmas,” Raja says. “It’s what she really wants.”
Eddie sighs. He hoped things wouldn’t go this way, but he can’t begrudge Raja for wanting to make his wife happy at Christmastime.
“I laud you for your selfless decision,” Eddie says. “And I’m going to make this happen—if I can. We do already have a full-price offer on the inn, I think. I’ll need to check with my colleague to see if that offer is real or just a paper tiger. Even if it is real, we may be able to go above asking. Now, this may result in a bidding war. How high are you willing to go?”
“Twenty million,” Raja says. His voice contains the bravado of a man who has just pushed all of his poker chips into the center of the table.
“The inn is listed at six-five,” Eddie says. “I would recommend we go in with an offer of seven million and cap it off at seven-five. The inn just isn’t worth more than that under any circumstances.”
“I’ll pay what it takes,” Raja says.
“Let me look into it and I’ll get back to you in a little while,” Eddie says. “Talk soon.”
He approaches Glenn’s desk and admires a new picture of Glenn and Barbie in the heart-shaped frame there. They’re arm in arm at the Schramsberg Vineyard in Napa. Behind them is a fountain featuring a dancing frog. Eddie holds all sorts of opinions about Glenn Daley, but he has to give the guy this: he loves Barbie and treats her like a queen.
“Where are we with the supposed buyer you have for the inn?” Eddie asks. “Is he for real?”
“He’s for real,” Glenn says. “Wait until you hear this story…”
Before Glenn can tell Eddie the story, Eddie sees Allegra waving at him from her desk up front.
“Eddie,” Allegra says. “Mrs. Christy is on the phone for you. Line two.”
“Mrs. Christy?” Eddie says. “Or Mr. Christy?” Is it too much to hope that Raja has had an immediate change of heart?
“Missus,” Allegra says.
Missus, Eddie thinks. Probably, Raja couldn’t keep the secret for more than two minutes and he told Masha what he’d done, and now Masha is calling Eddie to make sure Eddie wrangles the inn away from the other buyers.
“Hold that thought, Glenn,” Eddie says. “I need to sort out this mess. Why didn’t I go into marriage counseling like Dr. Phil?”
“I ask myself that every day,” Glenn says.
Eddie goes back to his desk and picks up line two. “Good morning, Masha,” he says. “How are you?”
“Are you ready for me to make your day?” Masha asks.
Eddie closes his eyes. The only thing Masha is going to make is trouble. He can feel it. “Sure,” he says.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided that I want to surprise Raja for Christmas and put an offer on that Whatever Creek Road house.”
Eddie’s eyes fly open and he lurches forward in his seat. “Wait a minute. What?”
“The one out in Wauwinet. The house with the pool and the home theater. I want to buy it for Raja. Full-price offer, unless you think we can get it for less.”
“I think you can get it for less,” Eddie says. Masha can probably offer twelve-five and close at twelve-eight or -nine. “Let me look at the numbers and I’ll call you back in a little while, okay?”
“Okay,” Masha says. “But don’t tell Raja. I want him to be surprised.”
“You have my word,” Eddie says.
He hangs up and goes back over to Glenn’s desk. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Try me,” Glenn says.
Barbie stands up from her desk and joins them. “I’m bored. Tell me, too.”
Barbie is “bored,” and yet Eddie knows that she put a five-million-dollar lot in Shimmo under agreement this morning. That’s his sister for you.
“So, since the first week of November, my Powerball couple, the Christys, have been in a deadlock about what to buy. Mr. Christy wanted the house on Medouie Creek Road, and Mrs. Christy wanted the Winter Street Inn. But then, just ten minutes ago, Mr. Christy calls saying he wants to put in an offer on the Winter Street Inn to surprise his wife for Christmas.”
“Aw!” Barbie says.
“But I have a buyer… ,” Glenn says.
Eddie holds up a finger. “Then, just now, I get a call from Mrs. Christy. She wants to put an offer on the Medouie Creek Road house as a Christmas surprise for her husband.” Eddie grins. “You know what this is, right?”
“A relief,” Glenn says. “Because I have a buyer for the Winter Street Inn.”
“It’s… it’s…” Allegra has clearly been eavesdropping, and now she’s snapping her fingers, looking at her father, trying to pull something out of the pocket of her brain where her schooling resides. “It’s that story, that Christmas story about the couple that have no money. She cuts her hair to make money to buy him a watch chain, and he sells his watch to buy her combs.”
“Exactly,” Eddie says. Maybe a year at UMass Dartmouth wasn’t such a waste after all. “‘The Gift of the Magi,’ by O. Henry.”
“It’s not really like that story at all,” Barbie says.
“It is a little bit,” Eddie says. “Because my story, the Christys’ story, is ironic. And, like the characters in the O. Henry story, the Christys were motivated by their love for each other and their desire to put the other person’s happiness first.”
“Sell the Christys the Wauwinet house,” Glenn says. “I’m putting the inn under agreement with my guy.” Glenn leans back in his chair. “This may not be as good a story as Eddie’s, it may not be O. Henry, but it’s still a story.”
“We’re all ears,” Eddie says.
“My buyer for the Winter Street Inn is this guy who used to stay there. He stayed there for twelve years at Christmastime. So obviously this guy—George Umbrau, his name is—knows Mitzi and Kelley, and he wants to surprise them by paying full price for the inn. In cash. I guess this guy used to make hats—there’s a fancy name for it, which I forget—and one of his hats showed up in Vogue magazine, and right away someone swooped in to buy up his hat business for eight figures. So he has the six and a half million. He says he’s in no hurry; he wants Mitzi and Kelley to stay at the inn as long as they’re able, and when they’re ready or Mitzi is ready to move on, then he’ll take over. And he says he’s committed to keeping the inn exactly as it was when the Quinns ran it.” Glenn puts his hands behind his head. “Now, is that guy Santa Claus, or what?”