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  By 4:30 in the afternoon, the tours dwindled down until Craig made the decision to do one, final inspection of the seller's home and ensure all was in order for the homeowner to return. It was a productive day and Craig had spoken to a few seemingly interested buyers. With their names and phone numbers listed on the guest registry, he would surely call tomorrow and follow up.

  But just before closing his brief case and heading for the door, Debbie Cordsmullen arrived home.

  Rats! Now Sunday afternoon, Craig wished to drive off, loosen the neck tie, head home for a couple of beers and possibly see the end of the game. And how he hated updating a seller just moments after an open house or showing! Time was needed to digest the events and rehearse a briefing to be spoken over the phone.

  Still, every seller has the right to know and every seller deserves friendliness and small talk. “Welcome home Mrs. Cordsmullen. I was just packing up to leave.”

  “Oh, please don't rush! How was it today?”

  Craig spoke of the countless, potential buyers who had toured her home; showed the list of names on the guest registry and promised to call each one in the morning as a follow up.

  Reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a couple of cold ones, the irresistibly-sexy Mrs. Cordsmullen seemed very pleased. “Well that's great! I'm in the mood for a little celebration!”

  “Now Mrs. Cordsmullen, I don't want you to think I sold your house, today. I'm just saying it showed well and I have some people who might be interested.”

  His attempt to downplay success was ignored as both bottles of beer had been opened, and one handed to Craig. “You worked hard today. It's Sunday afternoon, nearly 5:00, and it's gorgeous outside. Let's just have a couple beers together and I'll put something on the grill later for dinner.”

  Too focused on developing his career in residential home sales, Craig hadn't so much as a young lady that he courted for marriage. And although drinking beer with a married woman felt wrong, Craig rationalized after a couple guzzles that Mrs. Cordsmullen was in the process of getting the home sold and finalizing the divorce. And what is so wrong with allowing a client to make dinner on a Sunday night?

  There's absolutely nothing wrong with accepting a seemingly, harmless invitation. A couple hours passed as beers turned into mixed drinks and Mrs. Cordsmullen (who now asked to be called Debbie) set two filet mignons on the grill and invited Craig inside to escape the mosquitoes.

  After dinner a cozy, side-by-side seat was shared on the sofa with additional drinks. It was in these moments when Debbie opened up and shared her deepest feelings of a marriage gone sour, citing that perhaps she wasn't ready for matrimony so early in life; and then theorizing that perhaps Kevin's duty at war was to blame for such loneliness.

  Debbie confessed to the affair and how she truly believed that the other man was supposed to be the one. Craig would hear of her pregnancy and the desire to announce the need of divorce. And then the sad story of “Freebird” who declared it was time to move on had the near drunken Debbie teary-eyed and overly emotional.

  “I put the baby up for adoption before my husband came home on leave. But he still found out about the affair. I think he learned it from talking to one of the neighbors across the street. And that's how I got where I am.”

  Not the least bit interested in hearing of Debbie's personal problems, Craig hung onto his mixed drink buzz as best as he could, all the while appearing interested while the irresistibly-sexy face of Debbie remained only a foot from his. Inhibitions numbed while noticing her need for someone to care. Craig drew his face close to hers and kissed softly as if “testing the waters”. An eager return was all that he needed; both had waited for this moment but held back for so long. The kissing grew into intense and frantic making out. If only Mr. Swieley could have seen his agent, then!

  Suddenly, the sound of the sump pump could be heard from the basement which caused Debbie to jump up. “Oh no; it's the sump pump!”

  Confused and nearly frustrated, Craig joined her. “What? What? Is there a problem? Want me to check it out?”

  That was the last thing Debbie wanted! She shouted, “No!”

  How odd; what in the world could be wrong with the sump pump? But Craig wasn't about to let this strange incident ruin his moment of “hitting the jackpot”. Aside from another turnover of the dreaded sump pump downstairs, he ignored the incident and resumed his conquest. In a final gesture of willingness, Debbie seductively led the young man into the bedroom, closed the door and brought him over to the sinful bed where both Kevin and Freebird once laid.

  * * *

  Just as with every business, there are slow times of little or no revenue. The real estate industry is no exception. Many independent brokers suffer weeks and months of stacked up inventory while waiting for a sale which would hopefully lead to a closing and commission check. Although the now dynamic duo of Jack Swieley Realty possessed one of the largest inventories of homes in Mapleview, they waited patiently for a wave of buyers to finally purchase their collection of real estate.

  For Craig, the slow time was bearable with the existence of his new girlfriend who regularly made dinner, offered plenty of drinks and continued to provide fantastic sex. Needless to say, she was anything but a serious relationship. Debbie was more of a distraction from his career, as Craig would often daydream of another steamy session of romance with the sizzling, hot Mrs. Cordsmullen.

  Still, Debbie had her own life, her job and whatever other responsibilities. So did Craig. One responsibility Craig had was to report to the offices of Jack Swieley Realty, daily. But with a surplus of inventory and homebuyers who appeared to be doing anything but shopping for homes, Craig was experiencing “downtime”. And it was in these times when Craig noticed that Mr. Swieley could be a real bear!

  “Boy, what are you doing?” Glancing out his small office, Mr. Swieley noticed Craig at his corner desk, reading a novel from his Kindle. His desk sat in the dark corner of the main office and was nothing more than a card table with a PC, telephone and desk calendar. Mr. Swieley insisted that Craig use the old-fashioned desk calendar instead of the electronic calendars on computers or hand held devices.

  Needless to say, Craig found the question a little uncomfortable. “I… I was…” Under the circumstances, what did the broker/owner expect?

  Mr. Swieley stepped out into the main office and approached Craig's desk. “You're reading that Kindle thing, again? Boy, don't you know reading ain't gonna make us money? Your job is to make me money! Now get to work!”

  “Well, what do you want me to do, Sir? You want me to handle some appointments for you?” Craig speculated that perhaps their current inventory was “dead” which meant time to build up fresh, new homes for sale.

  The broker/owner found his assistant's suggestion insulting. “Excuse me? I do the appointments around here! You haven't been trained to do that, yet. Instead of wasting my time and money by reading from your Kindle, why don't you do some telemarketing? You can find some buyers for our homes. The phonebook is over there on the file cabinet.”

  Keep in mind that while receiving his training at Mapleview Realty, Craig was instructed that telemarketing during certain times of the day was more successful than others. Midmorning to mid-afternoon often resulted in nobody home. But with the bear-of-a-man that Mr. Swieley had become, it was necessary to follow orders and aimlessly dial various telephone numbers throughout Mapleview with no answers. Aside from that, Mr. Swieley had a phonebook from 1999! Many of the numbers were disconnected or wrong numbers.

  An hour passed, and Mr. Swieley looked out his office door. “Boy, haven't you gotten one lead, yet?”

  “Sir, nobody's answering!”

  “Well you're calling at 10:30 in the morning; nobody's home!” Realizing he was losing control, Mr. Swieley rested his fingers to his forehead and exhaled. “Look, I'm sorry. I got a lot going on. The wife is fighting with me, nagging whenever I'm home. And you can see we're at a low, now. Tell you what, let's g
o out and do an appointment. I'll show you how it's done.”

  Apparently, Mr. Swieley decided that it was time to find inventory that would replace the stale, old homes for sale. Was that really the way to work the business?

  They went through the usual routine at another Mr. & Mrs. Seller's house. Craig stood in the kitchen with Mr. Swieley who reassured the homeowners that all would be well. And just as he pulled the cell phone from the inner pocket of his checkered suit jacket, a phone call came through.

  Mr. Swieley answered, “Hello…? Yeah, I'm workin' right now. I don't have time for… WHAT…? Baby, no! You can't do that! It's been over 30 years!”

  Call apparently ended, Mr. Swieley lowered his arm while still clutching the phone. He sighed, “Folks, I'm sorry; that was my wife. I just found out that she is filing for a divorce. It's all over.”

  He raised the phone back to chest level and proceeded to dial with a hint of a tear in his eye. “Hang on, let me call my office and find out why they sent me here even though you didn't call us out.”

  For sure, Craig wondered if this was another one of Mr. Swieley's tactics, perhaps a “feel-sorry-for-me” pitch. And by the looks of the homeowners, they most certainly thought the same. But then Jack Swieley lowered the phone from his ear with a troubled look and then dropped the plastic device on the floor. He soon grabbed his chest while gasping for air.

  Mr. Seller was in bitter disbelief. “You've got to be kidding me! You're going to have a heart attack in my house, now?”

  But a closer look at the pale face with beads of sweat and an overall air of something terribly wrong, all gave testament that Mapleview's top producer was not pulling an act.

  “You gotta… you gotta… you gotta call an ambulance!” Mr. Swieley breathed as if running a marathon.

  It's amazing how people can change their attitude while witnessing a struggle for one's life. But the world never realized that poor Jack Swieley had struggled his entire life. He struggled to hold together a business; put food on the table; maintain a rocky marriage; send his kids to college—the list goes on. And while struggling all those years, people kicked him to the ground with hurtful words and bitter reputations. This moment was different as the homeowners took pity on the man. “Hold on buddy! I'm calling an ambulance! They're only two minutes away.”

  And even in that moment, the broker/owner continued to think of selling homes while stating, “That's a good selling point.”

  Then, while gasping for air in a cold sweat, Mr. Swieley mulled over his recent, disturbing news. “Uh, how much more can I take? She's leaving me for my competitor. He's a snake and a con artist! And she loves him, instead of me!”

  Mrs. Seller placed her hand on Mr. Swieley's shoulder. “Try not to worry. Try to relax. Everything is going to be okay. The important thing is that you stay alive.” It was such an encouraging piece of advice!

  Mr. Swieley called out, “Oh Lord, either help me or take me! I can't handle much more!”

  Not much time after his cry out, it appeared that the good Lord was going to help Jack Swieley as the ambulance siren was heard not so far off in the distance. Listening as it drew nearer provided a mesmerizing calmness that was followed by relief at the presence of paramedics.

  Craig and the homeowners watched as Jack Swieley was stabilized and hauled off on a stretcher. The siren screamed away into the distance, leaving the kitchen quiet and motionless.

  It was the perfect opportunity for Craig to speak up while pulling out an exclusive-right-to-market contract. “Well, Mr. Swieley usually charges 6%; but because of our mishap here, today, I'll give you a discount.”

  No presentation or sales pitches were needed. Mr. & Mrs. Seller were most eager to list their home with Jack Swieley Realty.

  * * *

  “Please tell me you got them to sign.” Visiting his boss in intensive care, Craig brought the medicine that would provide a temporary relief to Mr. Swieley's broken heart. Just how far will the top producer of Mapleview have to go to keep his business afloat? Hopefully this would trigger a winning streak for a while!

  Chapter 29

  One Saturday afternoon, while showing Debbie Cordsmullen's house to potential buyers, Craig learned, with certainty, that Debbie had a peculiar phobia of the sump pump in the basement.

  “What's in that box?” The husband and wife pair took notice of the 4ft x 4ft dry walled enclosure that was located in the corner of the basement with a 3 ft panel door on the side. It apparently granted access to whatever it covered.

  Craig answered, “I believe that's the sump pump. Debbie is that what this is; a sump pump?” Debbie's presence was with them as she remained home that afternoon, and followed Craig and the buyers downstairs during the showing.

  “Yes, that's the sump pump.”

  The wife-buyer grew increasingly curious. “The panel with a lock on it: Is that the door to get in?”

  Craig could see that Debbie was struggling to maintain patience as she calmly answered, “Yes.”

  But another inquiry was soon followed by the husband-buyer. “Could you unlock and open the door so I can see the pump? I'm sorry, but I hear a lot of horror stories about those pumps.”

  Knowing his client much deeper than a sales professional should, Craig could clearly see that his seller was thrown way out of her comfort zone as she stuttered and stammered, “Ummm; oh jeez, this is embarrassing. I don't have the key for the lock. But I will have it open if you come back for a second showing to take a look.”

  If you were a potential buyer in a situation like this, wouldn't you grow suspicious? The husband-buyer hinted his suspicion, “I never heard of someone locking up a panel to access the sump pump. That is strange.”

  But the Realtor quickly came to the rescue, “Rest assured folks, if you get an offer accepted on this home, you will be entitled to a full home inspection.” The tour resumed, but Craig's confidence in selling a home of structural and utility soundness grew weak. Was he hiding known, latent defects from potential buyers? And to further add to his discomfort, Debbie had lipped the words, “Thank you” as he left the house.

  Just about every (if not all) states mandate that a Realtor use care when representing a buyer. This means that a Realtor must make known any defects of a home to buyer, even if the Realtor is on the seller's side. Considering this and the realization that his client may have been hiding something wrong with her sump pump, Craig visited his wise and seasoned broker, Jack Swieley, who was recovering well from his mild heart attack and soon to come home from the hospital.

  He stood before his boss's hospital bed. And amazingly, Mrs. Swieley now stood at her husband's side while lovingly tending to his needs. Craig hated to disturb the man from recovery, but he was in need of some important advice.

  Mr. Swieley was back to his usual self with powerful words of sales experience. “Now you listen here and you listen good! Did you see anything wrong with that sump pump?”

  Craig responded, “No.”

  “Did the seller tell you there was something wrong with the sump pump?”

  Again, Craig responded, “No.”

  Gazing out the hospital window, the broker/owner was in a moment of contemplation before returning with advice made possible through decades of experience. “Whatever that seller has in that box of hers is none of your business! If she's hiding something from you and the buyers, then it's her problem. Let her try to figure out how to cover up some defect. You stay out of there and let the seller show the sump pump when she's good and ready. You did nothing wrong, you hear?”

  Craig could hear the important piece of wisdom loud and clear. “Yes sir!”

  Being confined to the hospital bed had caused Mr. Swieley to grow impatient. “I got to hurry up and get better and get out of here before my business falls apart!”

  Mrs. Swieley patted her husband's shoulder and reminded, “Now, now; you relax like the doctor said. I think your partner can handle things while you recover. He's good and young enough.”


  Mr. Swieley continued, “Do me a favor. My secretary, Dora, had some people call on Mrs. Rudi's house. Are you up to showing it if these people are interested?”

  “Yes, of course!”

  Although Craig had shown numerous houses in the time worked at Jack Swieley Realty, the broker/owner found it necessary to continue coaching his apprentice. “Just be friendly. Let the house show itself and answer any questions, only the ones you know answers to! Don't say anything stupid! And make sure you give them my card. Can you do all that?”

  Again, Craig reassured him, “Yes, of course! I'll take care of them for you! Maybe I'll sell it!”

  Mr. Swieley only snorted a halfhearted laugh through his nose. “Well I hope you do.”

  * * *

  With her house on the market for nearly four months, the day elderly Mrs. Rudi met the dynamic duo from Jack Swieley Realty is an interesting story in itself. The poor Mrs. Rudi lost the love of her life some months ago. After living in the Mapleview bungalow with Mr. Rudi for over 30 years, she thought it was best to sell and leave the memories of a life that had passed. Only two days after placing an ad in the paper and a sign on the front lawn, Mrs. Rudi looked out her front room window and took notice of a good-looking, young man replacing her For-Sale-By-Owner sign with one that contained the name of a local real estate company

  She drew close to the window while sipping her cup of tea. The young man simply smiled and waved. How cute! The good-looking, young man made such a bold gesture in suggesting that she should allow him to sell the house.

  Mrs. Rudi stepped outside and approached the Realtor who now wore a sheepish grin. “Oh ya? You think so, huh?” It was best to play “hard-to-get” with such a fine, young fellow. He was probably accustomed to beating women off with a stick. But Mrs. Rudi was experienced and knew how to handle a chase so that she could win.