Chapter 9 - Why She Needed It Sold
The listing portal still showed suspended when I checked that Tuesday morning, but my sister hadn't returned any of my calls in four days. Not to me, not to the brokerage compliance line they'd left on her voicemail. Her phone went straight through to that bright outgoing message every time.
I drove to her apartment after work. I told myself I just wanted to see if her car was there.
The parking lot behind the building was half empty, rain spotting the asphalt. Her white SUV was backed into her usual space under the carport, a parking boot notice tucked under the wiper. Not a ticket. A property management warning. Second notice. I stood there looking at the red stamp before I heard someone say my name.
It was Lauren, who'd roomed with both of us at different times in our twenties and still cut my sister's hair in her kitchen for cash. She was carrying groceries and keys, looking between me and the notice.
"She tell you?" Lauren said, then caught herself. "Sorry. You here about the condo?"
"I’m here because she won’t pick up," I said.
Lauren shifted the bag to her other hip. "She's behind. Like, really behind. Rent, card, her desk fees at the brokerage. She told me last month if she didn't close something by Christmas she was going to lose the apartment."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Did she say my condo?"
"She said she had a listing coming that would fix it," Lauren said. "She said it was basically family money anyway. That you'd thank her after."
The hallway to my sister's unit smelled like old carpet cleaner and someone's dinner. I knocked twice before she opened the door on the chain. When she saw it was me, she closed it again to slide the chain off, then opened it wider.
She was in sweatpants and a brokerage t-shirt, her blonde hair pulled back. No makeup. The wineglass woman from Thanksgiving was gone. The apartment behind her was too neat, like she'd cleaned to prove everything was fine. A stack of unopened envelopes sat on the counter next to her keys.
"You can't just show up here," she said.
"You listed my condo and signed my name," I said. "You don't get to screen my calls."
She glanced past me at Lauren, who hadn't left. "Great. Bring an audience."
"I didn't bring her," I said. "She lives here. But stay. I think we need a witness."
My sister laughed once, short. "For what?"
I stepped inside enough that she had to back up. I pointed at the envelopes. "Open one."
"Stop."
"Is that why?" I said. "The commission? You needed a quick sale to cover this?"
Her face changed. Not guilt at first. Anger that I'd found the edge of it.
"You don't know what it's like," she said. "You have equity. You have that condo just sitting there while I’m paying desk fees to a broker who takes half of everything. I was going to get you full asking. I was doing you a favor and getting myself out of a hole. One deal would've fixed it."
Lauren set her grocery bag down quietly. "Mel—" I started, then stopped. That old pull came up so fast it embarrassed me. When we were kids I'd covered for her late library books, forged Mom's signature on a permission slip once so she wouldn't get detention. I'd always smoothed it first and been mad later.
Only this time the signature was mine.
"How much?" I asked.
My sister crossed her arms. "It doesn't matter now. The deal's dead. You killed it."
"The deal was never alive," I said. "You signed where I would have signed. Those were your words."
She looked down at the counter. Her voice went lower. "I was going to pay you right after closing. Every dollar. I even told the buyer you'd be happy. I just needed the commission advance to stop the notices."
Lauren looked at me. "She got a notice on her car today too," she said softly, like an apology.
I nodded. I understood the math now. Quick listing, friendly price, fast close, commission in time for December rent. It explained the rush, the forged initials, why she'd smiled at Thanksgiving with her glass raised like she'd already spent the money.
It didn't excuse it.
"We're going to talk about this," I said. "Not here alone where you can rewrite it later. With someone else in the room."
My sister stared at me. "Who?"
May you like
"You'll find out when I call you tomorrow," I said. "And this time, pick up."
I walked back out to the parking lot before she could answer, the rain coming harder on the asphalt, Lauren following me halfway to my car like she wanted to say something that would make us both still sisters the way we'd been before.
