Saving Brielle

Brielle“I seriously do not have enough wine stocked up to deal with this right now,” I mutter under my breath as I wait for the seller’s realtor to come back on the line.There has been a snag – again – with the closing schedule, and my buyers have officially moved past irritated into upset. When they called on my drive home, I had done my best to soothe their frazzled nerves, promising not to rest until this latest (and hopefully final) hurdle to home ownership was cleared.Now I am sitting behind my desk in my home office instead of in my garden tub, where I long to be, because the seller’s agent has… misrepresented some things.That’s putting it mildly, my sarcastic wit observes.I have earned a stellar reputation as one of the best realtors in the state of Texas - and with good reason. I’ve spent the last twelve years making sure my clients are treated like family; I have chosen to focus on quality of service over quantity of closings, and as a result have not had to advertise in

BrielleOne-thirty, I note as I tap my fingers idly on the kitchen counter. Another half-hour of this. Man, I hope more people show up.To say I am disappointed is an understatement; I had hoped that the Prescott home would be overrun with prospective buyers during this span of unfettered access to the property.There has been one so far.Maybe the property's cursed, I think to myself, then giggle. I do not believe in such things. Nasty divorce proceedings, where the judge is making the couple sell and divide the proceeds? Now that, I do believe, because that is what is happening here.Unfortunately, neither one of them listened to me when I advised them that the half-million-dollar listing price they insisted upon was much too high.Now, four months later, this house has become my personal millstone. I have delivered in excess of fifteen fair and equitable offers for the property to my clients, but since they cannot agree to anything at all between them, we have reached a stalemate.

BrielleHe is not just punctual, he's early, I note when I pull into the parking lot of my office at eight-fifty-two and see an unfamiliar truck already occupying a space. Good to know we have that in common.I step out of my car, wincing at the humidity that already seems a bit oppressive for so early on a mid-April morning. I look in my purse, noting with satisfaction that I remembered to pick up a ponytail band and my small brush.That is the first order of business today, get all this hair pulled up out of my way, I tell myself as I lock my car and walk toward the door.As I move up the sidewalk, I get the sensation of being watched, but since I opted to have the front windows of my office tinted, I cannot confirm my suspicion. It is not until I walk through the door that I know my hunch is right."Morning, Rita," I say as I enter, but my attention is immediately drawn to my left, where the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on is occupying the leather armchair and staring ba

Brielle"Good morning, Rita. Lots to do today," I announce as I arrive at my office building bright and early four Mondays later. "Two closings, among other things.""We actually have four closings, not two. The Jones closings are this afternoon," she reminds me. "Don't you plan on going?"I shrug my shoulders."I really don’t see the need," I tell her, my stiff posture at odds with the nonchalant way I attempt my answer. "He's paying cash, the title company overnighted him the documents for both properties, and the sellers' realtors are leaving the keys in each lockbox for him. No, there's nothing more I need to do for Mr. Jones."Never have to interact with him ever again, actually. What a relief, I think to myself."Ah. I've already started the coffee for you," she chimes back, transitioning smoothly away from that prickly topic with a knowing smile."You're a lifesaver. Don't know what I'd do without you."“You could lock up tonight. I need to leave at four. I’ve got a date.”“Dea

BrielleMari insists on paying for our late lunch as agreed before we lead Detective Tucker back to my place. When we arrive, he holds out his hand for my keys."Alarm code?" he asks.I flush scarlet."Well… um… about that…" I begin to say, but Mari's exclamation drowns me out."Seriously? Are you freaking kidding me? You never got the alarm system activated? Are you crazy, Bri?"I glance at her, cringe at her furious expression, then turn to speak to Detective Tucker and notice he is mirroring her angry stare.I hunch my shoulders."First thing in the morning," I mutter. "I promise.""Tonight, Ms. Cerver," Tucker retorts. "I know a guy. Let me go clear your house right quick, and I'll call him."He steps away, shaking his head, and unlocks my front door."Stay here and stay together. I'll be right back," he admonishes before he walks inside my house."Seriously, Bri?" Mari asks again, one eyebrow raised."Hey, it's just been texts and calls, so….""No, ma'am," she interrupts. "No, ma