Hearts and Houses for Sale: Not Business as Usual

For a quiet Sunday afternoon open house, high on a hillside in San Pedro, California, this is taking a decidedly unexpected turn. Feeling more like a woman and less like a real estate agent, Selene tosses her long sleek red hair back over her shoulder, then walks to the open door sizing up the situation: he just made a pass at me and I just flipped my hair like a high school girl. He's not buying the house. I'm behaving unprofessionally. 

"Prospective buyers are due momentarily," Selene says as she pivots on the ball of her foot, more for assurance and balance, than anything else. She and Henry Powell are face to face. "Here's my card, please call."

As he slides his hand out of his pocket, her fingers flip the card at him as though they were at a black jack table. Selene lets loose with a belly laugh. "I don't know why I did that," escapes from her lips, which she covers with her fingers, but the laughter won't stop.

Henry picks up the card from the carpet. "Miriam and Joav said you were fun."

Before Selene can recoup, twin little boys hurl themselves threw the door, bumping into Selene's hip, one after the other. In slow motion, she feels her heel catch in the white carpet, then her other leg fly up and her butt land on the floor with a thud.

"Mommy, mommy, come look," the boy in the blue shirt screams. 

"We wanna see the tree house," the boy in the yellow shirt screams.

"Are these yours?" Henry Powell asks.

The seam half way up from the hem of her pale silk suit is torn. Unable to take her eyes away from the tear, Selene feels a man's hand lifting her gently from the floor. 

And that's the truth. To some extent.

To be continued...