Alligators in the Trees (53 page)

As passionate as her argument was, she knew she was making it before the Communist Republic of Burrowstan, where youth counselor and librarian were positions held in the highest esteem. And even though Lloyd was a web designer and IT coordinator for a small T-shirt manufacturer, he too made a ridiculously low wage. Roxanne was by far the biggest bread winner out of the siblings present, an achievement that earned her virtually no points, simply because she was a lowly checker, and—sin of all sins—she had no education beyond high school.

“It takes
months
and
months
for new agents to close their first deal, and usually it’s what they refer to a ‘DNA’ deal, meaning it involves a family member or close friend. They figure each agent has two ‘DNA’ deals in them and that’s about it. And as you have so helpfully pointed out, your family is pretty much a dry well, unless of course you can talk Mom and Dad into selling this house and moving into a seniors’ condo,” Felicity said snidely. Roxanne glared at her silently; she knew better than to play into her sister’s hands. “Besides, most new licensees get out of the business within the first year,” Felicity concluded in her usual know-it-all fashion.

If this had been a baseball game, Felicity’s enlightening statistics would have been the equivalent of a bases-loaded home run in the ninth inning. From the expressions on everyone’s faces, Roxanne knew she was not the odds-on favorite in this match up. She let her sister gloat for a moment before presenting her rejoinder.

“If everyone in the world approached their aspirations by compiling all the reasons why they couldn’t succeed and letting that pile of negatives be the deciding factor, how far would we get in life? Debating is a great way to explore an idea, but for some people, that’s where the action ends. After all, it’s a lot easier to pooh-pooh a dream than it is to go out and actually make it happen.” Roxanne glanced at each of them, gauging how this had registered. Her siblings seemed to have lost a measure of their smug superiority, and her parents looked positively delighted.

“Well said, Roxanne,” Harold congratulated her, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs in a tacit sign of approval. “So, tell us dear—and don’t let the peanut gallery dissuade you this time—what exactly is your plan?”

“Study the course, take the test, pass—hopefully—apply for my license and set up interviews,” she said. The faint hint of excitement in her voice was irritating enough to send her siblings back to their previous pursuits, at least superficially.

“And will you continue to work at ValuWise?” her mother asked.

“Oh, sure…at least until I have a position lined up. I mean, I still have to bring home a pay check.”

“So, does that mean you will keep working as a cashier until you close a sale?” Harold asked. Roxanne chewed the inside of her lip while she considered his question. She hadn’t worked that part of the scenario out yet. It didn’t help her thought processes any to discover Felicity was now staring at her with predatory zeal.

“Well…” Roxanne faltered.

“I do think your sister made a good point about the ‘down-time’ between starting out in real estate and receiving your first commission check,” Harold added.

“Of course, agents don’t usually get paid the first month they start, but if I decided I wanted to be a nurse—or let’s make it easier—a teacher, I’d have to have at least four years of college, plus whatever the requirements are for teaching credentials, before I would receive any pay.”

“That’s true,” Daphne said, looking up from her needlepoint.

“Besides,” Roxanne continued, her confidence returning, “there’d be no way I could go to school fulltime, work fulltime and be a mother fulltime.”

“Part-time,” Felicity corrected her from behind her magazine.

“There
are
other vocations that don’t require several years of college,” Lloyd said sagely from his window seat. “Like Bronte said, selling real estate is the last thing I picture you doing.”

“Really?” Roxanne countered. “And why is that?”

“For one thing, I’ve never once heard you speak kindly of the profession, which is why I find this sudden craze so puzzling.”

“That’s true, dear—you’ve never shown any interest in it before, not to my knowledge, anyway,” Harold pragmatically agreed, entreating his daughter to bear proof of her longing.

Now all three siblings had their antennae up, ready to pounce on Roxanne’s slightest equivocation. This put her in an uncomfortable spot, as she herself had no clue why she was suddenly fixated on being a real estate agent.

“In my opinion, you could do a lot better,” Lloyd added, before sticking his nose back in his five-pound book. “After all, I can’t think of a less educated, overpaid group of people on the planet,” he said, turning the page and reading on without bothering to glance her way.
As opposed to over-educated, underpaid people like you, Felicity and Bronte
, Roxanne thought, though she judiciously kept such comparisons to herself.

“You are certainly entitled to your opinions, Lloyd, but all your sarcastic remarks won’t deter me. I wish I could make you all understand why I want to try my hand at selling real estate, but I guess all I can say is that I find the idea stimulating—exciting, even. Unlike you, I do have the desire to make some decent money, to get ahead instead of just treading water, to stop punching a clock every day. I want to succeed. I want to shake hands with my clients and hand them the keys to their new home. I want to make people’s dreams come true!”

Despite all the startled faces in the room, no one was more shocked by Roxanne’s affirmation than she was.
Where had
that
come from
? she wondered, as goose bumps rippled her flesh. Had working at ValuWise for thirteen years completely derailed her mind?

She had never had the slightest desire to sell real estate or rub elbows with those who did. Now she was practically frothing at the mouth to convince her family it was her fondest ambition. Worse still, they were starting to believe her. Was she really that desperate to quit her job?

Yes, she was that desperate. So desperate, in fact, she would prefer anything to her current circumstances. So, yes, she could throw pride and dignity aside, pull up her sleeves and fight for listings, point out the many benefits of homeownership, and drive clients around in the often endless pursuit of the perfect home. Oops…the driving part was still an issue.

Judging from the look of stunned approval on her parents’ faces, now was the time to close on the question of financial assistance.

“Our apologies for doubting your commitment, Roxanne,” Harold began. “We’ll support your decision any way we can.”

“Does that mean I can count on your help with expenses?” Roxanne asked in her most polished, professional tone.

“Expenses?” Harold replied.

“The course is a bargain at $275. And that includes the cost of the exam. But it doesn’t include the $165 the Department of Real Estate charges for the actual license.” Harold nodded methodically. $440. That was certainly the cheapest educational expense he’d seen in decades.

“Sounds quite reasonable,” he mused.

“There are other expenses to be considered…”

“Such as…?”

“I need a new car,” Roxanne stated bluntly.

“A new car?” Felicity echoed incredulously. “Well, that goes for me, too.”

“Me three,” Bronte said, as he banged away on his keyboard. Lloyd raised his hand, not wanting to be left out of the car giveaway.

“Yours runs, mine doesn’t,” Roxanne informed her cheeky sister. “That’s why I had to take a cab over here.”

The light dawned for Harold and Daphne in unison; after all the talk about the wine left in the taxi, the fact that she had not driven over in her own car had utterly escaped them.

“The starter’s shot. It’ll cost me more to fix it than it’s worth,” Roxanne explained to her muddled parents.

“But a new car…” Harold hesitated.

“A used car. ‘Pre-owned,’ but new to me. I think I can find something good for eight or nine thousand,”

“
Nine thousand
?” Felicity cried out.

“Come on, Felicity—that’s less than the cost of one semester at UCLA. Or have you conveniently forgotten?”

“I earned a degree with that money.”

“Fat lot of good it’s done you,” Roxanne shot back.

“That’s enough!” Harold bellowed, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair, startling his family. “We will have none of this petty bickering. Roxanne came to us, her parents, with an appeal for help. You will all kindly remember that we’ve always taken your desires to better yourselves seriously. And if any of you find it difficult to keep your comments constructive, you can leave the room.”

The Burrows children all stared at their patriarch with awed alarm. They hadn’t seen an outburst like that in so many years, none of them could actually remember one. Felicity put down her magazine and grabbed her tattered canvas satchel.

“I’ve got to be going,” she claimed, before bidding everyone a hasty goodbye. “Good luck, Roxanne,” she said, though her wish bore a distinct lack of sincerity. “Don’t take any overpriced listings,” she cautioned.

“Thanks, Felicity. Don’t let any overdue books slide,” Roxanne replied with the same lack of sisterly love. Felicity hitched her bag up onto her shoulder and stomped out of the room.

Once she was gone, the over-all mood in the room lightened. Neither of her brothers seemed remotely interested in sabotaging Roxanne’s agenda anymore. Both went on with their activities as if no family feud had just rocked their peaceful world. Other than Lloyd relocating to Felicity’s vacated position on the sofa, nobody said or did anything.

Roxanne picked up a butter cookie and nibbled at it thoughtfully. Now felt like a good time to let her parents digest her request. Her mother set her needlework aside and helped herself to a cookie, too.

“Would you like a glass of iced tea, Roxanne?” she asked, daintily wiping a yellow crumb from the corner of her mouth.

“No thanks, Mom. I’m fine.”

“So, you’ve given this real estate idea a lot of thought,” Harold said pensively.

“Yes, Daddy, I have.”

“And it’s something you can actually envision yourself sticking to?”

“Sticking to things isn’t really my problem,” Roxanne replied. Harold took her point.

“And you think you can make a go of it?” Daphne asked.

“I think I can, Mom. I don’t know why, but I feel really excited and optimistic about this. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way about anything,” she confessed, wondering if it were the truth or just another ruse to get what she wanted. It made her feel a little shaky to realize she was truly excited by the prospect of making a career in real estate.
Wow—can I actually do this?
The possibility frightened her more than anything else.

“Then I believe you can do it too, darling,” her mother said admiringly. “Let me get my checkbook.”

Lucky at Love

When journalist Allison Tyler-Wilcox meets the seven-time divorced, mule-breeder Jake Sorenson at a wedding, her professional radar goes off. To understand why some people are compulsively attracted to the idea of marriage, Allison travels to Jake’s ranch in rural Oregon, where he turns her notions of life, love and marriage upside-down.

Golden State

Roxanne Platt is not perfect; she’s a heroine with foibles. But she knows there’s got to be more to life than scanning groceries. As she scours the Classifieds, she is struck by the almost endless real estate ads. Recalling an agent who’d been in her checkout line—short on sense and long on enthusiasm—she wonders why she couldn’t enjoy the same success as Lois Bronsen—
top 5% in the country.
She boldly takes the plunge into the character-ridden world of real estate, disregarding all cautioning about the state of the economy and the record foreclosures.

Once Upon a Lyme…

A true story of a mysterious illness that stumped a parade of doctors, and the newfound discipline of writing that became the unexpected by-product of years of misdiagnoses.
Once Upon a Lyme…
chronicles the search for the cause of a long list of symptoms, the eventual diagnosis, the arduous quest for a cure, and the creative outlet that helped the author through it all.