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“No, I don’t.”
Mona peeked at me over her glasses as her fingers returned to work. “Why not?”
“Harvey said he wanted to read it at home where he could let it all sink in.”
“So now what?”
“I wait until tonight.”
Her pearl-drop earrings jiggled as she shook her head. “Don’t tell me.”
“Dinner is on him this time.”
“He’s really milking you on this. Want me to watch the kids?”
“Nope. They’re invited, too. We’re picnicking at the Dinosaur Park down in Rapid.”
My phone rang. A number with a 415 area code greeted me instead of South Dakota’s usual 605. Who was calling me from out of state? I picked up the receiver. “Calamity Jane Realty, Violet Parker speaking.”
“Hello, Miss Parker. How are you this sunny morning?” Wolfgang Hessler’s whiskey-smooth voice brought a smile to my face. He must have been calling from his cell phone.
“I’m wonderful,” I bluffed, “and you, Mr. Hessler?”
“Ah, you know my voice. I like that in a relationship—business or personal.”
Personal?Dear God, please tell me he didn’t get Sunday’s paper.
“Are you still interested in showing me your mother’s house today?” While the guy’s handsome face could make a girl want to put on a little black dress and a coat of red lipstick, I had a one-track mind these days.
“Will you be able to meet me at the house around noon?”
“Of course.”
“Splendid. Do you like shrimp?”
Only when it was battered, deep fried, and tasted like chicken, but for a signed contract, I’d eat a fermented egg. Or an elk burger. “Sure, why?”
“Bring your appetite. I’ll see you soon, Miss Parker.”
He said my name like I was one of those James Bond babes. I hung up and looked at Mona. “Cross your fingers. I have a lunch date with a jeweler.”
“You’re getting popular,” Mona said right as Jane was stepping out of her office.
“Violet’s getting popular?” Jane headed for the coffee maker. The fruity floral and vanilla scent of her favorite perfume floated across my radar. “Does that mean you have good news for me?”
Mona and I exchanged winces.
“Not officially,” I said, unwilling to admit defeat to the woman who would be signing my commission checks someday.
Jane turned, coffee in hand, and smiled at me. Since the first time I’d met her, her resemblance to the mom on the Partridge Family made me feel like chestnuts were roasting on an open fire.
“Violet, did you see the note on today’s To-Do list?” She pointed a manicured pink fingernail at the white board next to the coffee maker.
The picture of professionalism from the tips of her frosted dark blonde hair to the toes of her Manolo shoes, Jane loved lists, whether they were full of to-dos, goals, or pros and cons.
“No, sorry.” I’d been a little too distracted by my daughter’s latest plan on how to find me a man.
I walked over to the board and grabbed the yellow Post-It next to my name.Call DR Nyce: 605-555-1971
