Leaving Serenity (18 page)

The models disappeared behind the curtained dressi
ng room, and Gigi turned to me.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I’m amazed! Everything is so beautiful.”

Gigi’s
lovely
face lit up when she heard how pl
eased I was. I could tell that she took great pride in her work
. “Good
!
We’ll take your measurements to make sure that everything will fit you perfectly!
But, first, let’s go to the next room for your shoes and accessories.
”

I followed her to an adjoining room filled with glass counter displays of handbags,
costume
jewelry, scarves, and gloves. A corner of the room was reserved for trying on shoes. She led me to the shoe corner first.

Gigi
hel
d up a blue and white pump.
“The preferred shoe for business attire is the
close-toed
pump with a two
-
inch heel. The two-tone navy and white is very popular this season. We have a casual
open-toed
sandal
in red, white
,
or blue.
A
gain
,
no
thing
higher than
a
two
-
inch heel
is considered appropriate for business wear. The open-toed sandal should only be worn with slacks. Wear the close-toed pump with skirts and dresses.”

Gigi looked at my legs. “I see that you aren’t wearing pantyhose.
No matter how pretty your legs are, p
antyhose are a must
!”

I wanted to slump down and scrunch in my toes when Gigi politely pointed out how inappropriately I was dressed.
I gave in to Gigi’s recommendations
and secretly thought,
I guess that’s what happens when a hooker teaches you how to dress!

Choosing scarves and “appropriate” costume jewelry was fun. Gigi suggested a smart looking navy Aigner handbag that matched my blue and white pumps and navy sandals.

Gigi tapped her manicured fingers together and said, “We have one more stop. Follow me.”

The last step in my makeover process was the intimates and cosmetics department. Gigi educated me in the importance of wearing the proper undergarments
and applying the correct touches of makeup.

“Okay, Nikky! You’re all set. What would you like to wear today?”

I looked down
,
chuckl
ing
slightly. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t wear this!”

Gigi leaned back and looked me over. She scrunched her nose and shook her head.

I laughed. “Okay, I know! I need pantyhose
and
proper shoes.”

Gigi agreed like a mother hen.

“I’ll wear number one.”

Gigi looked surprised. “Oh, would you like number tags for them?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I relied on Gigi to dress me
for many years
. I rarely shopped on my own. She put so much time and energy in dressing
me that
I felt like I was cheating if I shopped
anywhere else
.
By r
elying on Gigi and numbering my outfits
, I was free to focus on
business
.

The Realtor

I rarely
ran into
Mrs. Wilkerson
.
I thought that it was ironic that she rushed out the back door
that day
as
I was taking the shopping bags out of Goldie’s trunk.

“Oh, Nikky, he-llo!” She waved.

             
I turned and smiled. “Hi, Mrs. Wilkerson. How have you been?”

             
She eyed my number one outfit and shopping bags. “Oh, I’m just fine. Nikky, you look so nice! And I see that you’ve been to Gigi’s! That’s a very expensive s
hop
for a—uh, young girl like you.”

             
“I have a new job.”

             
“Oh?” She cooed with an o-shaped mouth.

             
“Yes, ma’am. I’m working for Harris Realty now.”

             
“Oh, my! Tom Harris is one of the richest men in South Nashville.”
She paused and patted my shoulder. “Good for you, my dear. I
always
knew that there was something special about you!”

             
I was amazed
by
the
change in her attitude after seeing me in the new dress. “Thank you. I have a lot to learn.”

             
Mrs. Wilkerson moved her hand across my shoulder, admiring the fabric of the dress. “Oh, you’ll do just fine, I’m certain of that. Am I correct in assuming that you’ll be moving on soon?”

             
I looked at her, startled. “Oh, no ma’am! Not unless you want me to.”

             
“Goodness, no!
Why, y
ou are like my own daughter
!
Please stay as long as you’d like.”

             
I didn’t feel the strong bond that Mrs. Wilkerson spoke of. Until that day, she had barely noticed me. But I did see a change in her as time moved on.
Sometimes,
I’d come home to find a mason jar of homemade soup or fresh baked cookies at my front door. The more successful I became, the more Mrs. Wilkerson liked me. Over time, I learned that her reaction was typical of most people.

***

My career at Harris Realty began in the front office. In addition to compiling data for the database, I answered the incoming calls for the office and
the
Multiple Listing Service.
I memorized the map Tom gave me and
followed his lead
to a tee.
The housing market became my whole life.
I
fell asleep at night surrounded by real estate circulars.
Sometimes I was so focused
o
n doing a good job that I missed lunch.
Ironically, a missed lunch
triggered my career.

***

The area realtors turned in their submissions for the MLS circular at the beginning of each month.
I was typesetting the entries to beat a two o’clock deadline with the printer
when Tom and the agents walked by my desk.

“Hey, Nikky. The boys and I are having lunch at Primmosa. Do you want to come?”

I gave him a brief glance. “No, thanks
.
I have to get the monthly circular out.”

He gave me a thumbs-up as they walked out the door. I was relieved t
o have
an excuse to skip lunch at Primmosa. Sue’s eyes told me
that she resented waiting on me. I knew that meant there was a good chance of my food being tainted.
P
referr
ing
a
lunch
of
cheese crackers and
a
Dr. Pepper,
I was happy to stay behind. The office line rang as I came back to my desk with my vendor machine lunch.

“Harris Realty. This is Nikky. How may I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am, my name is Harold T
aylor
,
and
I
’m
from Georgia. We’re visiting m
y wife’s
sister
over here
in the Melrose section. We’re looking
to buy
a house
near
by
.”

I quickly shuffled through the new listings. “Oh? I just saw
a
new listing for a house on Sunset Boulevard. Let’s see, it’s a three bedroom ranch, only two years old, listed at $57,000.”

Mr. T
aylor
chuckled. “Well, that’s right around the corner from my sister-in-law
!
My wife will be tickled about that. W
e have
to
get back home. Can we tak
e a look it
now
?”

“Well, the listing agent is at lunch now. When are you leaving?”

“We have to be on the road in thirty minutes. Can you show us the house
now
?”

I thought for a moment. I had no way of getting in touch with John, the listing agent, before the couple had to leave town. The
manager
s
at
Primmosa didn’t answer telephone calls during lunch. I could post the out of office sign
on the front door
and swing over to Melrose before the guys return from lunch.

“Okay, Mr. T
aylor
. I’ll meet you at 145 Sunset Boulevard in ten minutes.”

I threw on my jacket, checked my hair, and grabbed the key from the pegboard behind my desk. Ten minutes later, I was shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. T
aylor
in front of the picturesque ranch-style home. I studied the cut sheet and
pointed out bulleted points as we walked through the house.

Mrs. T
aylor
commented on the cabinetry in the den. “Those nice oak book shelves give the place a comfortable look, don’t you think?”

I agreed. “That corner is a perfect place to curl up with a good book.”

“Oh, do you like to read?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. I love mysteries!”  I said, remembering one of the two novels I had read in my lifetime.

Mrs. T
aylor
’s hand reached for my arm. “Oh, my dear, I love a good mystery, too! You are such a dear to come out and show us this place.”

She turned toward her husband who was examining the fireplace. “Harold, let’s buy it.”

Mr. T
aylor
stood
slowly.
“She’s the boss, little lady. You
’ve
just sold yourself a house. You get everything ready
for us,
and we’ll come back on Wednesday with the cash. You said $57,000, right
?
”

I cleared the lump in my throat and nodded. “
Yes, sir, f
ifty-seven thousand.”

I gave Mr. T
aylor
the cut sheet, one of Tom’s business cards
, and I
wished them a safe trip back to Georgia.
Mrs. Taylor blew a kiss as she waved goodbye.

What have I done?
I asked myself, as I drove back to the office.
That was John’s listing! He will be furious with me! I don’t have a license to sell! Will Tom fire me?

I loved my job so much. I couldn’t imagine losing it. No one in real estate would touch me after this. I was fighting back tears when I pulled into the parking lot behind
the boys
. Tom met me behind our parked cars.

“Hey, Nikky. Where have you been?”

My eyes glistened and burned as I found a piece of my voice. “Tom…I sold a house.”

He
looked at me, half-smiling. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to. It just happened…so fast. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that his wife would like me so much. I didn’t know that they would decide on the spot, or have cash. It happened so fast. It was so easy. I just slipped
.”

I felt like I would hyperventilate and took a deep breath. The five men stood in a semi-circle staring at me. I felt like a criminal. After all, what I had done was against the law. I wondered if I would have to leave Tennessee, the way Jack had to leave Florida.

Tom pointed at me. “Nikky Harris, if I live to be a hundred, you’ll never hear me reprimand an employee for
making a deal on
a house. Where
i
s the house?”

I looked at him and realized that he wasn’t mad. “One forty-five Sunset Boulevard.”

John snapped, “Hey! That’s
my
listing!”

I nodded. “I know. You see, this nice old couple from Georgia called. They were visiting her sister and leaving town before you guys got back from lunch. So I was just going to show them the house. And then the lady and I started talking, and she told her husband to buy it. He’s bringing the cash on Wednesday.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “The cash?”

I nodded. “Fifty-seven thousand.”

Tom broke into a huge laugh. “
That’s amazing!”

John thumped his chest. “That was
my
listing!”

Tom cut off his laugh as quickly as it began. “What’s your problem, John? You’ll get your listing fee.”