Judy Alter - Kelly O'Connell 02 - No Neighborhood for Old Women by Judy Alter

Author:Judy Alter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery: Cozy - Real Estate Agent - Fort Worth
ISBN: 1622370023
Publisher: Turquoise Morning Press
Published: 2012-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Tom Lattimore was ten minutes late. Sometimes I wished I had the nerve to be late, but I was always the one who waiting alone at a restaurant table, looking slightly pitiful. I thought people would wonder if I’d been stood up.

I hadn’t, of course. He came in with that air of overwhelming self-confidence that some small men have. Tom wasn’t all that small, but he wasn’t as tall as I am, and at fifty or thereabouts he still had the full head of blonde hair and the good looks that must have sent women swooning when he was in his twenties.

“Kelly, I’m so sorry. Some clients can be picky, wanting to discuss every detail down to the thousandth of an inch.”

“They should,” I laughed. “Most of them only build a house once in a lifetime.”

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, seating himself opposite me, “but I do this every day.” He reached across the table and took my hand, looking straight at me. “So, how are you, how’s business? It’s time we caught up. I…didn’t call you or anything when Tim died, and I’m sorry. I’m sure it was awful for you.”

He still held of my hand, and the thought flashed through my mind that Tom Lattimore was coming on to me. I pulled my hand away, “It’s okay, Tom. It was a shock, of course, but we were divorced and the emotional separation was pretty total. I worried about the girls, but they seem to be okay.”

“The girls, of course. And you’ve moved…a Craftsman, if I’m not mistaken.”

He certainly kept up with things. “Yes, it’s charming. Tell me, how’s Sue?” His wife was always a favorite of mine—open, friendly, not above a bit of gossip and a good laugh. We’d met at realtor functions and lunched together a couple of times after that.

“Oh,” he said without apparent regret, “she left me six months ago. Couldn’t stand my schedule.”

So maybe he was coming on to me, and maybe he was a philanderer and that was why Sue left. I guessed I’d never know, because I sure wasn’t going to encourage a personal relationship. I already had my hands full in that direction.

“What are your plans with Chase Court?”

The waitress came and offered us wine. Tom looked at me, but I declined, saying, “I’d have to nap if I drank wine at lunch.”

We both ordered tea and opted for the buffet, which turned out to offer several wonderful dishes—salad with hummus, beef lasagna, chicken and spinach in a wonderful Alfredo sauce, a lemony sautéed chicken, and some vegetable entrees. I piled my plate way too high.

When we were settled with our food, he said, “Okay, Chase Court. I want to redo the place.”

“Redo what? As you said, the houses don’t look bad. It’s just the landscaping, the outside walls around the court—who owns that? Who’s responsible?”

“The homeowners. There used to be an association, if you could call it that, for—what?—ten homes? But it hasn’t met in years. I’ve told them

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