Book One, Page Eleven. Seeking Approval From The Women.
"How does it look?" Julie asked from fifteen feet away, as she walked her perfect walk up the sidewalk, toward where Jerry and Karen were standing, outside the back door of the old pharmacy.
Julie did not have to wait for the answer to her question. She could read Jerry's mind. This was not a talent she had with many other people, but something about her relationship with Jerry made his thoughts as clear to her as if they were streaming on a readerboard hung around his neck.
"Okay, so what's the problem?" Julie said, as Jerry craned over to give her a kiss. "Is the place a mess?"
"Not at all," said Jerry. "In fact, it's so much like I remember it that I knew where everything was, and everything I saw I remembered. But it seems like we have to battle a bank for the place."
"I wouldn't say it's a battle," Karen said. "But we do have to be ready to move fast."
"This is Karen Gottlieb," Jerry said. "She's the agent. Like I told you on the phone, a bank wants to buy the place and put a new branch on the spot."
"You already told me that," Julie said, as she shook Karen's hand. The hand felt a little--cold? "But there's something else, isn't there?"
"There's been a death in the Roquette family," said Karen. "They want to hold off dealing with the building for a little while. Don't know how that will affect things."
"And you won't believe who died," Jerry said. "Remember that lady I told you about who brought in the cat she wanted me to bring back from the dead? The one whose daughter is a chef? Turns out that she had a heart attack burying the cat. Talk about weird coincidences!"
"You must go to the funeral," said Julie.
"That's what I was thinking," Jerry said. "If I can talk to Mr. Roquette about the place then, that would maybe give me a leg up on the bank."
Julie looked at Jerry as if he had a burst gum bubble all over his face. "Jerry, promise me you wont bring up your restaurant at the funeral. You don't say anything about it. Just that Mrs. Lancaster was one of your patients. Is that clear?"
"That's what I told him," said Karen.
Outnumbered, Jerry retreated to a new subject. "The drugstore is fantastic," he said, a smile of teenage-style concupiscence spreading over his cheeks. "It has that old tile floor and big old wooden cabinets and the original soda fountain. People would come in just to dig on it!" He turned to Karen. "Can I give her a quick look at the place?"
"I have another appointment," Karen said. "I hope you don't mind if we make it quick."
They went inside, and Jerry rhapsodized about his recollections of the place. As he did, he felt his optimism about the project--which had been dampened by the news of the bank and Mrs. Lancaster's death--rise once again.
"So Jerry tells me it's $4800 a month," Julie said to Karen, as Jerry continued to babble.
"Forty-eight with an option to buy. They want a three-year lease. And there's one more thing I didn't mention. They need to approve any business that goes in there."
"I have no doubt," Jerry said. Old Mr. Roquette really loved this place. I don't think he wants to see it turn into a bar or a dry cleaners or something. Let alone a bank."
"Yeah, but an old guy like that can sure be turned around if the figures go high enough," Julie said. "And I don't know if you've heard, but banks usually have a lot of money."
A cellphone sang. Julie answered it. She handed it to Jerry. For a change, Jerry could read Julie's face. It said, "I'm curious. "She sounds young," she said. "Her name is Winifred. Who do you know named Winifred?"
