Six letters were delivered, just six. Six appointments were made, and one by one, family by family, talk, talk, talk, Barney Northrup led the tours around and about Sunset Towers.
“Take a look at all that glass. One-way glass,” Barney Northrup said. “You can see out, nobody can see in.”
Looking up, the Wexlers (the first appointment of the day) were blinded by the blast of morning sun that flashed off the face of the building.
“See those chandeliers? Crystal!” Barney Northrup said, slicking his black moustache and straightening his hand-painted tie in the lobby’s mirrored wall. “How about this carpeting? Three inches thick!”
“Gorgeous,” Mrs. Wexler replied, clutching her husband’s arm as her high heels wobbled in the deep plush pile. She, too, managed an approving glance in the mirror before the elevator door opened.
“You’re really in luck,” Barney Northrup said. “There’s only one apartment left, but you’ll love it. It was meant for you.” He flung open the door to 3D. “Now, is that breathtaking, or is that breathtaking?”
Mrs. Wexler gasped; it was breaktaking, all right. Two walls of the living room were floor- to-ceiling glass. Following Barney Northrup’s lead, she oo-ed and aah-ed her joyous way through the entire apartment.
Her trailing husband was less enthusiastic. “What’s this, a bedroom or a closet?” Jake Wexler asked, peering into the last room.
“It’s a bedroom, of course,” his wife replied. “It looks like a closet.”
“Oh Jake, this apartment is perfect for us, just perfect,” Grace Wexler argued in a whining coo. The third bedroom was a trifle small, but it would do just fine for Turtle. “And think what it means having your office in the lobby, Jake; no more driving to and from work, no more mowing the lawn or shoveling snow.”
“Let me remind you,”, Barney Northrup said, “the rent here is cheaper than what your old house costs in upkeep.”
How would he know that, Jake wondered.
Grace stood before the front window where, beyond the road, beyond the trees, Lake Michigan lay calm and glistening. A lake view! Just wait until those so-called friends of hers with their classy houses see this place. The furniture would have to be sophisticated; no, she’d buy new furniture – beige velvet. And she’d have stationery made – blue with a deckle edge, her name and fancy address in swirling type across the top: Grace Windsor Wexler, Sunset Tower on the Lake Shore.
27
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