Forty-One Thousand Dollars and a Yellow Paper Envelope
“Who will be in that room?”
“The broker.
The title officer.
Probably the buyer’s agent on speaker.”
“Then learn the title officer’s name before you walk through the door.
A man in a borrowed shirt who can’t say her name gets shown the sidewalk.”
He poured two cups of tea, and the handle of mine had a chip out of it the size of a thumbnail.
“One more thing,” he said.