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“He is. It’s nice that he took the time to stop by,” Sophie said.
“Does he go to everyone’s open houses?” Max asked. There was an edge to his voice that Sophie found curious.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so. He said he happened to be in the area. I think he probably wanted to check and see how I was doing as this is my first listing.”
“He seems very hands on,” Max said.
“He is. He knows pretty much everything that is going on.”
Max glanced at the platter of cookies. “Do you need a hand packing up?”
“Sure. Do you want to carry the cookie sheet, and I’ll pack the cookies up?”
Sophie boxed them up, set them on the platter and handed Max the cookie sheet. She took a final walk through the apartment to make sure nothing was out of order, then they headed home. As they walked, she called the seller to let her know how the open house went.
“We had a good turnout. One guy seemed very interested and wants to come back tomorrow at one with his wife. Does that work for you?”
“I’ll make it work. I’ll head to the coffee shop around the corner for an hour or so. Come any time after twelve thirty.”
“Great. I’ll keep you posted with their feedback.”
When they reached the apartment, Max waited to hand her the cookie sheet until she opened her door and set the cookies down.
“What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked.
“Wildly exciting things—laundry, paying bills,” Sophie said. “What about you?”
“I think I’m going to try to get some writing done. Do you want to watch the latest episode ofMurderslater tonight?” He grinned. “If you’re not sick of me yet?”
Sophie laughed. “Not yet. I’ll be over around seven.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sophie brought half of the leftover cookies with her to Max’s apartment, along with a bottled water she’d just opened. She smelled the pizza when Max opened the door and smiled. They seemed to have a routine now of pizza and an episode ofOnly Murders in the Buildingon Sunday nights. She looked forward to these nights, and she never got tired of pizza.
“What kind did you get this time?” She set the box of cookies on the kitchen counter.
“Half pepperoni and half sausage, onion and pepper. I hope that’s okay?”
“That’s great. I love both.”
Max got paper plates for both of them and they each grabbed a few slices and settled on his living room sofa.
The pizza was delicious, as usual, and they both enjoyed the latest episode. When it ended, Max got up and returned a moment later with the box of cookies. They both took one.
“How’d the writing go today?” Sophie asked him.
Max made a face. “I said I was going to go home and write, didn’t I? I thought about it. But then I did laundry, ran some errands, and read a book for inspiration. I finally opened the story I’m working on, reread the last scene I wrote and then stared at the blank screen for too long. I don’t usually write on Sundays, and I guess my muse wanted a day off.”
Sophie was fascinated by how Max’s writing process worked. “So, you can’t force it. You have to wait for inspiration to come?”
“Sort of. But not always. When I get closer to deadline, I can’t be that precious about it. I have to sit my butt in the chair and make the words happen. And they do. I don’t understand it.”
“Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?” Sophie asked.
Max thought for a moment. “I think on some level, I did always know. I was always a big reader and I used to dream about writing books someday. I knew it wasn’t a practical job, though. I mean most people don’t make a living at it. I am grateful and feel very lucky that I am able to do that.”
“It’s more than luck though. You’re incredibly talented,” Sophie said. “How did you get started?”
