I thought about it.
“Because my son wanted it,” I said. “And my grandchildren picked out their bedrooms. And my daughter-in-law made a spreadsheet.”
Celeste waited.
“And because,” I said, “it has a porch.”
Celeste looked at me for a long moment.
“Mrs. Briggs,” she said carefully. “Desert Flip paid nine-forty for it. They’re going to want a lot more than that. Before they’ve even done the work.”
“How much?”
“If I had to guess?” Celeste said. “One-two. Maybe one-three. Cash. Fast. They don’t like to wait.”
“Make them an offer,” I said.
Celeste stared at me.
“Mrs. Briggs, I don’t mean to be rude. But do you—”
“Have the money?” I said.
I took out a business card. Lorraine’s.
“Call my attorney,” I said. “She’ll confirm.”
Celeste called Lorraine that afternoon.
She called me back an hour later.
Her voice was different.
“Mrs. Briggs,” she said. “I’ll have an offer to Desert Flip by tonight.”
