Ari's New Life

A Rose Called Miracle

Book #4, Part 3

Author's Note: This is the fourth and final Book of 'A Rose Called Miracle'. This is fiction. All characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, or businesses is simply coincidence. As with the first three books, it is made much more interesting by people of different races, religions, and sexual preferences...And I still believe the world would be a better place if Douravia really existed.

KARI'S NEW LIFE

**Life is a circle. The end of one journey is just the beginning of the next. Joseph M. Marshall III

*****

Valerie held out her fist with her little finger extended, "Pinky swear?"

What could I say? "Okay, pinky swear." We bumped fists, hooked our pinkies together, and shook on it. "Okay, now tell me what happened."

"In D.C., when we moved to the bitch congresswoman's place, I kept my Glock hidden in my bedroom. Mom, you need to know that Dad...Brett...never touched that bitch--they didn't even sleep in the same room. I don't know why he agreed to move in or marry her, but it wasn't for comfort or sex. The fact is, and I know this isn't politically correct, she is a dominant hardcore lesbian. There's no easy way to say this, but from the day we met she was trying to seduce me. I used every excuse I could think of to stay away from her. I used the techniques Solo taught us on how to secure a door with no lock to keep her out of my room. But I screwed up, on the 4th of July, she drank too much at a party and came after me in my bedroom before I could secure the door. Mom, she tried to rape me. I pulled my Glock from under my pillow, pointed it at her nose, and told her if she touched me I'd blow her fucking head off."

"Oh Val, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't..."

"Mom! No! You did what you had to...for all of us. You had no way of knowing about the bitch. Anyway, when the bitch saw the pistol, she backed off. The next day, however, she announced that I was incorrigible despite her best efforts to reform me, and I was being banished to that school out west. I told Brett exactly what happened and...Well you know the rest."

"So..." I smiled as wide as I could, "If I go to D.C. and kill the bitch; would that be overreacting?"

"Yes, Mom, it would." Valerie's smile matched mine. "Unless you let me help." We laughed all the way to the office. Even running late, I was still one of the first in the building. I talked with S. Brown, the security guard, for a couple minutes to find out if I needed a pass to park or anything.

"Nah. Tell me what kind of car you have and the tag number. You'll be fine."

"It's a Defender 110."

"A what?"

"Land Rover Defender 110. Rugged as hell; take it anywhere." I'd long forgotten the tag number so I dispatched Valerie to get it. "You know, I never asked, what does the S. stand for?" She was back in less than two minutes.

S. Brown visible sagged. "It's Sharona. Yeah, just like the damn song. My mother insisted. You guys have a good day. Thanks for stopping to talk; so many don't."

We took the stairs up to the second floor. The door to the office stood open. "Hey Dora! You here already?" I called out as I took off and put away the black leather jacket.

"Yeah, I just walked in. How 'bout getting the coffee going so I can wake up. Our oldest was up with a fever last night. We didn't get a wink of sleep. And...Hello? Who's this?"

"Sorry Dora, this is my daughter Valerie Noonan. She just moved here from D.C.. She had a falling out with the congresswoman."

"The bitch?" Dora grinned.

"That's one of the nicer things I called her." Val deadpanned as I filled and turned on the coffeemaker.

"Kari, you have the interview and photo session on the Grant house today, right?"

"Right. At 1:00 PM. I'd like to take Valerie with me. Let her see the new me at work."

"No problem. This morning, I want you also to start putting together the closing packages for the Smith and the Yankowski houses. Remember, you're licensed now, so you don't need to run to me every five minutes--just don't screw up. Is that coffee ready yet, I'm dying here."

"Help yourself."

"Val. If you want coffee help yourself; but be careful, that stuff is lethal."

"Wimp. Aah!" Dora sighed happily as she sipped and disappeared back to her office. I started putting the Smith's package in order; at the same time explaining each bit of paper to Valerie. Ten minutes later Dora was back, holding out her cup, "I need more."

I spent the rest of the morning working on the Smith's paperwork. I finished the package just before lunch when I received their e-mail with the financials. I put the folder on Dora's desk and told her Val and I were off to lunch and then the Grant house.

"Is there any coffee left?"

"Just made a fresh pot."

"Goddess Bless You."

"Why don't you lock your door and take a nap on the sofa? I won't tell." I shut her door behind me and heard the lock click.

"Do you think she'll really sleep?" Val asked.

"I don't see how. She's got enough caffeine flowing through her veins to keep 20 people awake and jittery." Dora's door popped open again.

"My door isn't soundproof. I heard that; and you're right. Come with me, I forgot something." Val and I followed Dora down the hall to the supply room. Dora turned on the light, walked to the back wall and pulled down a large box. "Here. It arrived yesterday. Just in time." It was a large 'For Sale' sign. QCL&A. Contact Kari Noonan at ***-***-****'. It even had my picture on it. "Your first 'For Sale' sign is an important milestone. We have several more on order. Over there are the posts you'll use to hang the sign; and over there are some large hammers you can use to drive them. Last, but not least, over here is a box of magnetic 'QCL&A' signs you can stick on the side of your vehicle. Our customers love seeing them. Plus, having those signs means you get certain tax benefits that come with using a personal vehicle for business. You'll want to talk to our tax people sooner rather than later. Okay, you'd better get going so you're not late. Maybe I can take a nap now."

It took two trips down to the Defender to move everything. We stopped and had salads for lunch before proceeding to the Grant house. Approaching the address, I could see it was a very nice, very upscale neighborhood of large houses on large lots. From the outside, the Grant house looked meticulously cared for. I pressed the doorbell and was greeted by a casually dressed, yet elegant, middle aged man. "Good afternoon sir. I'm Kari Noonan from QCL&A."

He nodded to Valerie and me, "I'm Charles Grant. Please, won't you please come in." Over the next three hours I learned everything I could about the house: three bedrooms, each with a bath, a formal dining area, nice kitchen with a breakfast nook overlooking the pool area, and a finished basement with plenty of space for storage or exercise equipment. I didn't see any of the warning signs of a wet or moldy basement. I took about 200ish photos of the inside and about 100 outside to use in the ads.

After that, I negotiated our commission rates and a couple bonuses: the standard 6% commission applied if the sale price was between 875K and 900K; 8% of every dollar between 900K and $1,125,000; and 10% of everything above $1,125,000. Oh, and if it sold for less than 875K I only got 4%. Call me very motivated; especially when you realize that whatever the sale generated as commission, I only got 50%. QCL&A got the other 50%.

I filled in the blanks on the representation agreement and had Mr. Grant initial all my handwritten notes, and finally signed. I was getting ready to leave when Mr. Grant handed me his keys, "I'm moving out immediately, these are all the keys."

"I understand. I just need to put up our 'For Sale' sign and I'll be going." I gave him my card and made sure I had a phone and e-mail address to keep in touch. While Val and I set up the sign Mr. Grant drove off. I stood back, admiring our work and preparing my phone to take a picture when another guy wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt approached from across the street.

"Hi, I'm Mike Pearson, I live over there." He pointed to a house just down the street. It looked just as nice as the Grant house--maybe a little nicer. "So, Charles is really selling? I know he'd talked about it. It's a damn shame, he and Miles were good, quiet neighbors. If you don't mind, what's his asking price?"

I told him.

"That very reasonable. I'll put in the first offer right now: I'll go for $900,001; and I think it's worth much more. If you receive other offers, I'd like a chance to compete."

"Yes sir." I got his phone number, pulled a blank offer form from my briefcase and filled it in for his signature.

"Ms. Noonan? Please do not let Charlie sell before you speak to me. I'm almost certain I'll be willing to beat any other offer." We shook hands again, and Val and I took off to go shopping. I was almost giddy as I drove away. As a minimum, 6% of 900K was $54,000, and half of that was mine! We arrived at the grocery store. Before we went in I e-mailed Mr. Grant saying that we already had an offer; but advised him to give me at least six weeks before accepting. He replied immediately, 'Keep me up to date. Good Luck.'

We got to the Super Sav-Mart, and I was ready to shop 'til I dropped; but Val, being the sensible one, reminded me we'd have to move everything we bought to the new apartment next week. So we shopped for necessities only; you know--enough to feed a mother, daughter, and two cats for seven days and keep everyone clean.

It was still daylight when we finished shopping. I stopped at the office and dropped off the Grant representation agreement, the house keys, and the Pearson offer. "You sold the damn thing already?" Dora asked.

"No. Just an offer. I asked Mr. Grant to give me six weeks before he accepts, see if the advertising brings in any better offers.

"Okay. What are your plans?"

"Internet, our in-house site, at least one open house at the one-month mark."

"Why are you standing here talking?" Dora grinned, "Get to it."

I threw her a sloppy and entirely insincere salute and left because Val and I had frozen food to put away. It didn't take long. Then, while Val started a pasta dinner, I downloaded all the pictures to my laptop and started sorting and culling them. I found two great exterior shots and immediately posted them on the QCL&A 'New Listings' page. After dinner and doing the dishes, I opened new listings on two commercial sites where QCL&A had accounts.

I started my favorite zydeco CD and danced alone for a little while before I dragged Valerie off the sofa and made her join me. That loosened me up so that I could go back to selecting the perfect pictures to illustrate the listing. I finished the QCL&A listing and decided to call it a night. Val and I spent the rest of the evening searching the internet for information about the local area; trying to determine which district high school Val would go to. We figured it all out eventually and checked the school's website. It seemed like a decent school; they seemed particularly proud of their academic achievements and student participation in extracurricular activities.

"And they don't say anything about uniforms. Right?"

"Yeah. The way it reads is as long as you don't cause insult, injury, offense, or arousal, you're okay?"

"Funny. With all the money you spent on uniforms, Mom, it seems a shame for me not to wear them. NOT! Maybe I'll wear them--sometimes--if I need to push someone's buttons." Val laughed.

I realized it was after 11 PM. "I need to get cleaned up and ready for bed. I'll do yoga and meditation here in the apartment in the morning. Do you want me to get you up?"

"No. But do it anyway."

*****

As we approached the end of August it had been nine months since I ran away. Val and I had been reunited for six weeks. For five of those we'd been in the new two-bedroom apartment. It was larger and much more comfortable for two women and two cats.

At work, the Grant house had generated a lot of interest. The open house I held drew over 50 interested couples. Even better, four couples decided they had to have it which generated an intense series of offers and counter-offers amongst them. The offers peaked at $1.21 million. Mike Pearson stood at the back and just shook his head 'no' when I revealed the highest offer. I called Mr. Grant and gave him the good news. He thanked me, and then asked me to make sure the buyer didn't get away.

I hurried over to Mr. and Mrs. Cortez and told them their offer had been accepted. Mrs. Cortez, an attractive brunette hugged and thanked me. Mr. Cortez was a little more reserved, but he shook my hand and thanked me. "Now. Ms. Noonan, since you've sold us this house. Could we impose on you to help us sell our old place?"

"Of course. When would you like me to come over for the interview, photos, and inspection? I can't do next Monday, that's my daughter's first day of school. I promised I'd take her and help her get registered."

"Yes. Family is the most important thing." Mr. Cortez replied. "But now that all our children have moved out, Luisa and I needed to down-size a bit but still have room for grandkids to visit so we can spoil them before we send them back to their parents." Mr. and Mrs. Cortez laughed happily as they signed the offer sheet. I took a picture of it and e-mailed it to Dora--just to brag. After all, this was my first solo, start-to-finish sale, and I was as proud as could be.

I took down the 'For Sale' plaque on the CQL&A sign and replaced it with the 'Under Agreement' plaque. Again, I took a picture and sent it to Dora. She responded immediately with a text, 'Way to go, Noonan. Come back to the office so we can talk.'

I walked into the building about 35 minutes later and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Dora and all the other agents were standing in the hall and started applauding. Dora walked down the hall to where I had stopped and grabbed me in a hug, "Congratulations." She turned to the rest of the folks in the hall, "$1.21 million! How's that for a first sale!" She shouted. Everyone applauded, then began wandering back to whatever it was they had been doing.

It wasn't much of a talk really. She offered me a choice. Depending on how brave and confident I was I could choose one of two options: one, go on straight commission. Or two, take a 'draw'. My hourly salary would continue; but when I sold a house, my salary would be subtracted from my commission. I immediately opted for the surety of the draw...after all, I had a daughter and two cats to support.

Back at my desk, I cleared up a bunch of paperwork, sent an old-fashioned fax to the Cortez's with our standard representation paperwork for them to review. I got a text from Val, 'Mom--why don't we have a toaster?' Hmm, good question, why didn't we?

*****

I finished my paperwork and jumped into my Defender. I hadn't been to Ink Boy's Pawn Shop in a while so I thought I'd stop by and see how he was doing...and maybe find a toaster. I drove over there and happily saw a parking spot available right in front. I pulled in and shut off the engine. I looked into the shop and my heart nearly stopped. Walter was standing toward the back of the shop, but just in front of his protective booth with his hands raised over his head. A person in jeans, hoodie, and sneakers stood in front of him waving a big-ass knife in his face. I reached into my pocket--where the hell was my phone?! Shit! I must have left it on my desk.

I reached down and opened my pistol's hiding spot; grabbed it. Then, I remembered Solo's instructions to turn on my emergency flashers and press the red button (sounds like a cliché, doesn't it?)

I lowered the window and opened my door to hide behind. I screamed at the guy with the knife to stop and put down the knife. (Afterwards Walter told me what I'd actually hollered was "Freeze Motherfucker. Drop that knife or I'll blow your fucking balls off!!") That was rather embarrassing.

The police raced up less than 90 seconds later. I guess Solo's emergency button worked as advertised. I pointed into the shop and yelled to the cops that the guy in the hoodie had a knife. As soon as the cops went into the building I slipped inside my Defender and hid my pistol. Then I got out and waited as they restrained and dragged the bad guy out of the building.

I sat and waited. I knew they'd want to talk to me. A green light started flashing on the dash of my Defender. I reached over and touched it. "Hello?"

"Kari? This is Solo. Are you safe? What's going on?" No one had told me about the communications equipment in the SUV.

"Hey Solo. I'm fine. I almost walked in on an armed robbery. I couldn't find my phone, so I pushed the red button. Cops have arrived."

"Excellent. Did you use your weapon?"

"I had it in my hand with a round in the chamber; but if by 'use it' you mean did I fire it, then no."

"That's good. The cops know that you have it and are properly registered, licensed, and trained. If they ask to see it, don't be afraid to show it."

"Okay. I was worried about that and already hid it."

"Don't." He paused. While he did I got out the pistol, removed the magazine, and ejected the round in the chamber. I set the pistol on the seat beside me. "Hey Kari?"

"Yeah Solo?"

"Nice going. Have you ever thought about coming to work for me?"

"Not in a million years; but thanks for the compliment. Hey, a cop is headed this way, I'd better go." The green light went out.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"Yes. Officer..."

"Calibretti; Jason Calibretti, Ma'am."

"I'm Kari Noonan. How can I help you?" I ended up telling him the whole story. I showed him my Beretta Px4 Storm, after assuring him it was unloaded and safed. I explained that I'd known Walter for nine months, more or less, we were friendly, and I could tell he was scared of the guy with the knife.

"Can you describe the knife?"

"Obviously I couldn't see the handle; but the blade was long and wide. It looked just like the knife Walter used to have on display. He called it a k-bar, I think."

"Could you identify the knife?"

"If you mean, could I pick that specific knife out of a display of similar weapons...No. Could I point and say, 'It looked like that' then yes."

"Can you identify the suspect?"

"I got my only good look at his face after you apprehended him, took off his hoodie, and brought him outside. But that was the same guy I told to drop the knife. I never lost sight of him."

He nodded. "Why did you stop here in the first place?"

"I got a text from my daughter; she said we need a toaster. I thought I'd check with Walter and see what he had."

"Lucky for him. Once you get your toaster, I'll need you to come by the station and fill out a statement."

"Okay. What's the address?" He gave it to me along with his card. I went in to see how Walter was doing. He was pale and wandering around in a daze. "Walter, you look a little shaky. Why don't you sit down...or go to the bathroom and puke."

He took the second suggestion. After he finished, I got a nice four-slice toaster for $5--Walter was still in no condition to haggle. I hurried back to QCL&A to get my phone, and then called Val to let her know what happened and that I needed to go and give the police a statement. A different uniformed officer led me to the detective area. I was greeted by an older woman; graying, overweight, smelling of cigarettes and bourbon. She introduced herself as Detective Donoho.

I related in detail all the events from the moment I parked in front of the pawn shop right up until Officer Calibretti gave me his card and told me to come in and fill in my statement.

"So, they tell me you threatened to shoot the suspect's balls off? Did you mean it?" She smiled (sort of). I would have preferred it if she didn't; her breath was awful.