Chapter 2
MEETING MR. MARS
Marla and Elliot watched through the front window as Veronica pulled up in front of their office.
"Check out that car." Elliot said, nodding towards Veronica's pearl colored Audi 6. "We should have smelled 'trophy wife' from the get-go."
"I just assumed it was a rental." Marla said.
"Who rents a brand new Audi 6? Certainly not teen aged girls who are new in town."
"Her outfit was simple and her ring is minuscule. And her boobs…well, she didn't really fit the profile!"
"Like we know what the trophy wife profile is." Elliot sighed.
"You're right. A young husband would buy her something flashy. A Corvette or a Thunderbird. Not an Audi. Audi just screams 'maturity'. He probably drives a Volvo or a Caddie."
"Oh come on! He can't be sixty!"
"Okay, a Mercedes, then."
"I'll bet he's perpetually tan."
"With perfect teeth."
"And erectile dysfunction."
"Elliot!"
"Well, I can't stand it that they have all the fun!"
"Here she comes."
Veronica came through the front door and smiled. "Are we ready to start again? I'm a little nervous."
"We're ready." Marla said, hoisting a stack of listings. "There are a lot of homes available when money isn't a problem so let's look through these and pick out what you like best." She and Veronica sifted through the stack and after a half hour or so, had chosen a half a dozen houses on the Grand Round that Veronica liked the looks of best. Armed with addresses and photos, they headed out.
Their first stop was Lake Harriet, where they looked at one house on the East side of the lake. It was a beautiful old craftsman style mansion with a large yard, right across the street from a wonderful, shady beach and close to a bike path that lead to the Minnehaha parkway. Veronica took pictures inside, outside and of the surrounding parkland, which she immediately emailed to Logan.
"Well?" Marla asked as Veronica read his answering text.
"Too busy." Veronica shook her head. "He doesn't want to be right on a beach and he noticed there are no wind surfers on this lake."
"Lake Calhoun is the favorite spot for that." Marla said. "Harriet is more of a family oriented lake; more beaches, more kids. And of course, the band stand across there…" she pointed to the castle like structure on the North West shore of the lake. "Live music at night all summer long and the concession stand sells the worlds best ice cream cones. If Mr. Mars likes to surf, Calhoun is his lake. That's our next stop."
Marla was right. Larger and rounder than Harriet, Calhoun was a wind surfer's mecca. There were a dozen boards out, zipping across the water, outpacing the sailboats. Although less than a half mile from Harriet, Calhoun pulsed with a vibration that cried I'm the city of lakes; let's have fun!They looked at three houses. A Victorian on the East side (too dark), a contemporary on the South side (wonderful but across the street from the busiest beach in town) and a Mediterranean villa on the West side (nice but too ostentatious and much too close to it's neighbors). Veronica loved them all but Marla was beginning to think that Mr. Mars was impossible to please. Perhaps he drove a Cadillac, after all.
The last two houses were on Lake of the Isles, the smallest, prettiest and by far most expensive of the lakes. Only a mile away from downtown, a Lake of the Isles Parkway address was close to the most exclusive address in town. Only Mount Curve; up the hill from the lake, perched on a ridge overlooking downtown, was more high end. Isles had no beaches and no sail boat buoys. It was connected to Calhoun by a waterway called the Lagoon so kayakers and canoeists had access but the two bridges spanning the Lagoon made Isles inaccessible to sail boats. The irregular shape of the lake and the two islands in the middle of it made it unappealing to sailors, anyway; not enough room to catch a fair breeze. It was a canoeists paradise. It was, however, cheek by jowl with Calhoun and had by far the most gorgeous homes. The entire parkway around the lake was occupied by mansion after mansion with perfectly manicured lawns and magnificent gardens; over a hundred enormous houses with unobstructed views of the lake and the islands. Marla was convinced that the Mars' home was on Lake of the Isles. She didn't understand Mr. Mars objection at all; too 09er.
"What does that even mean?" she asked, perplexed, after showing Veronica the last house on her agenda.
"It doesn't matter," Veronica said, shaking her head. "I know what he means."
It was a spectacularly beautiful summer day and they sat on a bench near the bridge to the lagoon, under a grove of crab apple trees.
"You should see this place in late May," Marla said. "Stand after stand of apple, crab and mock crab apple trees all around the lake. It's white, pink and fuchsia as far as the eye can see. And the lilacs! Oh, I'm telling you; It's breath taking."
"What's through there?" Veronica pointed to a second bridge about a quarter mile around the shore.
"Oh, that's the channel—" Marla stopped. She sat up straight, staring at the second bridge. Then she turned to Veronica and smiled. "Mrs. Mars, I'm so sorry. You want peace and quiet, a lake view and easy access to down town St. Paul? Your house is right through there. I can't believe I didn't think of it right away. Come on!"
In two minutes they had driven around Isles and turned off at the second bridge. They followed the parkway beside the channel but turned off after a block.
"It's all one way, but the lake we're going to is actually really, really close. Calhoun is right down there," Marla nodded down Dean parkway as she turned in the opposite direction. Two blocks later they had crossed a bike path and a railroad track and were back on a parkway of another lake. "This is Cedar lake. It's part of the chain of lakes but for some odd reason doesn't get lumped in with the others. I think part of it is that this neighborhood doesn't really go anywhere. No one drives through here unless they live here. Long time city residents sometimes use this parkway to get around rush hour traffic. For the most part, this is like an alternate universe."
"An alternate universe?" Veronica frowned.
"Yep. It's connected to the other lakes, it has beaches and sailing and canoeing but it's off the beaten path, it's quiet and extremely private. It's the only lake in the city with houses right on the shore but the one I want to show you is on the parkway right…here!"
Marla pulled to a stop in front of a large, green lot. Set back from the street, behind a short hedge was an architectural marvel; the entire first floor looked to be glass and the second floor was constructed of enormous, beautiful wooden panes with rows of windows. Veronica stared at it for a long moment, feeling her jaw drop open. Without taking her eyes off the house, she fished through her purse and pulled out her phone. She hit one on speed dial.
"Logan," she breathed a moment later, "She found it. How soon can you get here?" she nodded and hung up. Then she pointed her phone at the house, snapped a photo and emailed it to him. A few seconds later, she read his return text and smiled.
"What did he say?" Marla asked. Veronica turned the phone so she could see the words That's it.
"Can we see it?" Veronica asked.
"I don't have a key," Marla said. "But I can get it." She pulled out her own phone and quickly dialed. "Hello, Brucie! It's Marla. Listen, sweet heart, I'm going to need the key to—oh, he did? Well, what did you expect? You know he's had a crush on you for years. Yes, we're here now. Hang on." She lowered her phone and looked at Veronica. "He can be here in twenty with the key. Can we wait?"
"Of course!"
"We'll be here, dear!" Marla cooed into the phone. "See you in twenty! Thanks so much." She ended the call. "I guess Elliot already filled him in on the situation. He's not too happy that I've found a buyer for his house."
"Is it his?"
"No, I mean it's his listing. It's been on the market for months. So have all the homes we looked at today. That was unheard of a few years ago but when money was easy everyone was buying. Two thirds of the houses on the parkway are on the block because the owners can't make the balloon payments and there aren't any buyers. You and your husband are a godsend."
"So you're telling me we can low-ball?"
"Not on this one." Marla laughed. "If you wanted any of the houses on Isles, I'd say yes but this one is just a widow who wants to downsize and move to Florida where there's no income tax. Or winter."
"So you're telling me we can low-ball?"
"You can try." Marla laughed again. "God, it feels good to steal this one from Bruce."
"I definitely got the vibe that there's some rivalry there."
"Oh, yes. And he's my ex husband."
"Okay, did not get that vibe!" Veronica admitted.
"And he's Elliot's ex boyfriend."
"Ohh." Veronica's eyes widened. "And you're still friends?"
"Elliot and I have been friends for years. He didn't even meet Bruce until long after our divorce. He came by the office to drop off some papers and Elliot was smitten. You should have been there the morning after they hooked up and Elliot confessed to me what he'd done; the screaming and crying! I handled it all pretty well, but Elliot!" she shook her head. "Drama, drama, drama."
"Wow." Veronica squeaked.
"Poor Elliot suffered much worse at Bruce's hands than I ever did. When your husband tells you he's gay, you realize that you never really had a chance. For poor Elliot the rejection was more personal."
"Still, how awkward for you." Veronica could barely control her voice.
"Oh, honey don't waste any sympathy on me, I got what I deserved; I stole Bruce from his first wife. Oh, hey. That's him."
Veronica turned and saw a dark blue BMW convertible pull in and park. Out of it squeezed an extremely dapper, completely bald and completely round middle aged man. Veronica turned and looked at Marla.
"Hey, twenty years ago, he was really cute." she shrugged.
"You mean 'small'?" Veronica demanded.
"So lovely to see you, Marla, my dear," Bruce stopped, indignant that the majestic and mellifluous greeting he had rehearsed all the way over had gone unheard due to the laughter of the two women in his ex wife's car. He stood in the street, huffing impatiently while the ladies calmed down and exited the car.
"Bruce, my love." Marla said unsteadily, "This is Mrs. Mars. She and her husband are relocating from the West Coast. They are interested in this house. Thank you so much for bringing the key so that I may show it to her. I'll drop it by your office later."
"How do you do, Mrs. Mars?" Bruce said smoothly and sweetly. Then he turned back to Marla and flatly stated "I'll wait."
"No need for that, darling. We're going to be a while and I'm sure you're very, very busy."
"I-very well. Please come by the office later. You can drop the key off with my assistant, Candy." Bruce was clearly unhappy as he watched the two of them approach the front door.
"Candy is a boy." Marla stage whispered to Veronica as they went up the front walk.
"Stop it." Veronica hissed, seriously worried that she would collapse with laughter before Bruce had crammed himself back into his tiny car.
"He'd rather gouge out his eyes than leave me with the key to this place," Marla said. "But he'd rather eat them than admit to me that he has time to stand around and wait for us."
"You married that?" Veronica couldn't help blurting as the BMW zoomed off.
"Well, I divorced it, too." Marla defended herself. Then she pushed open the front door.
The moment Veronica stepped through the front door, Oh, hell, the second I laid eyes on the front door, she admitted to herself, she knew that despite her talk of low-balling, she and Logan would spend anything to live in this house.
The impression that the first floor was entirely made of glass was of course, an optical illusion. The foyer opened on the right to the living room and to the left to a large, bright kitchen, through a space large enough to be a formal dining area but not necessarily so. A large, beautiful crystal light fixture, which somehow defied being called a 'chandelier' graced the space. Straight ahead was a wide staircase leading upstairs. Veronica looked up and was amazed to see water reflected on the wall high above.
Marla was wise enough to keep silent and let the house speak for itself. She knew there would be time enough later to describe the local river rock and hard woods used in the home.
Stepping into the living room, Veronica made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh when she saw that while floor to ceiling windows made up the walls facing the lake to the East and the woods on the North side of the lot, the wall behind which rose the staircase was a huge, stone fireplace. The wall facing the lake was made of the same beautifully grained wood that made up the siding of the upper floor. At each end of that wall, large french doors lead to the spaces beyond.
Through the farthest set of doors was a beautiful library; built in book cases rose all the way to the ten foot ceiling, broken only by large square windows overlooking the shady, green back yard. The doors closer to the middle of the house lead to a sun room. Two walls of floor to ceiling windows, like the front of the house, allowed one to sit there in perfect comfort, twelve months a year and feel as though one were out in the yard. A door lead out to a large stone terrace that ran the length of the house. At the far end of the terrace, another door lead back into the kitchen.
Upon walking into the kitchen, Veronica couldn't help but blurt "I have got to learn how to cook!"
Back in the living room, Marla was shimmying in delight.
Like the rest of the front of the house, floor to ceiling windows let the lake into the kitchen. The rest of it eschewed stainless steel and looked like something out of a Rosamund Pilcher novel. The gleaming hard wood floors throughout and the warmth of the natural stone perfectly offset the modern/industrial elements in a balancing act that bordered on magic.
Veronica pulled out her phone again.
"Logan, it's perfect!" she squealed a moment later. "It's absolutely perfect!"
"Good job. Way to be cool." she could hear the smile in his voice. "Can the Realtor see that you're peeing in the corners?"
"I don't even care! Are you on your computer? You can NOT look at this place on your phone."
"Ah...yes. Fire away."
She began snapping photos of the lake through the windows, the kitchen, the fireplace...
"It looks good," he agreed when he opened the photos. "I need you to show me one more thing..."
"I haven't even been upstairs yet and I don't even care!" she told him.
"I don't care, either. I want you to see your face, right now."
Veronica turned the phone on herself and snapped a picture.
Logan laughed so loudly that Marla could hear him in the other room.
Saturday morning, Marla and Elliot were waiting in the office as excited as kids on Christmas Eve.
The upstairs of the house had not disappointed. Two large, airy bedrooms with a Jack and Jill bath had occupied half the second floor space while a master suite, equipped with two walk in closets and a huge master bath took up the other half. The fully finished basement boasted a state of the art media room with two tiered seating and a family room with two big egress windows which kept it from feeling like a basement. At the back of the large, tree lined lot, a four car garage had a fully appointed mother-in-law apartment above it.
The house was listed at $1.9 million ( three years ago it could've gotten twice that) and Marla couldn't decide if she was more excited about the commission or about meeting the elusive Mr. Mars, who was flying in this morning to look at the place with his young wife.
Elliot was definitely more excited about the latter. He and Marla were in his office, pretending to go over paperwork while Veronica waited in the lobby. She had offered to pick Logan up at the airport but he had insisted on meeting them at the office.
"I'm thinking 'George Hamilton'." Elliot said.
"Yuk. He was old when I was her age." Marla said. "Think 'George Clooney'."
"Oooh. Yes. I love Clooney's gray hair. Very Chairman of the Board."
"Sinatra?"
"Who? No, I mean he's very CEO."
"That actually stands for Chief Executive Officer."
"Oh, stop nit picking and quit pissing on my fantasy. What if he turns out to be some old, fat, billionaire that she only married for his money?"
"No way. Look at her." They peeked at Veronica who was pacing nervously, never taking her eyes off the big front window. "She's so excited she's about to explode."
"Definitely Clooney. I'm hoping he's secretly gay."
"Now who's pissing on who's fantasy? I'm hoping he'll be in the mood for the company of someone his own age."
"Are we really hoping for the destruction of that adorable girl's marriage?" Elliot asked plaintively.
"NO." Marla looked at him, horrified. "It's just a fantasy!"
"Oh good." Elliot relaxed again. "OH! Robert Wagner!"
"You totally have a Daddy complex, don't you?"
Veronica interrupted them just then, looking frustrated but resigned. "He just called. There's been some hold up at the air port. He said he'd meet us at the house. I gave him the address."
"Oh, that's fine. Really!" Marla did her best to soothe Veronica's frayed nerves. "We'll just go wait there. Would you like to drive? I really love your car."
A half hour later, the three of them sat, waiting, on the patio in front of the house. They had already gone through the place once and Veronica had been delighted to find that it was even better than she had remembered it from three days ago. She had tried calling Logan once but he hadn't answered, so there was nothing left for the three of them to do but sit, chat and scan the parkway for the arrival of a taxi from the airport.
"Betcha fifty bucks he shows up in a limo," Elliot leaned over and whispered to Marla.
Before she had a chance to consider the bet, Veronica jumped to her feet with a gasp. A bright yellow Ferrari had come zooming down the parkway and squealed to a halt in front of the house. Marla and Elliot had no time to react before the driver's door flew open and a figure leaped out. Veronica raced down the lawn and into Logan's arms. He spun her around, slamming her up against the passenger side of the car as he kissed her like he hadn't seen her in ages.
When he finally let her up for air, he turned toward the house. His eyes quickly scanned the front, then he strode up the walk, dragging Veronica by the hand behind him. He marched past the two Realtors without notice and dragged his wife through the front door.
"This is my...Logan!" was all Veronica had time to say to them as she disappeared through the front door, which Logan kicked shut behind them.
Marla and Elliot stared in amazement as they heard the deadbolt thrown into place.
They looked at each other, Marla's face a mask of dismay; Elliot's almost as delighted as Veronica's had been.
"Be still my heart." he finally said.
"HE'S A CHILD." Marla said.
"Who's your daddy?" Elliot growled, looking at the door as though he could see through it.
"I thought you had a thing for older men?"
"So did I."
Hearing a thump from upstairs, they both stepped back a few paces and looked up.
"What do you think they're doing?" Elliot breathed. Marla looked at him as though he were the stupidest creature on earth. "No, I mean in detail." he explained.
"You don't think this is some kind of elaborate scam, do you?" Marla asked. "Could they just be a pair of con artists who like to do it in up scale houses?"
"That car is a pretty convincing prop." Elliot raised an eyebrow. Marla turned and looked at the Ferrari.
"He left the motor running." she said.
"Did he ever." Elliot looked at the upstairs windows while Marla went to the street. She leaned in through the driver's door, which stood wide open and turned off the engine. A moment later, she came back.
"It's a brand new car." She said. "seven miles on the odometer. I guess they're legit."
Elliot looked at her, suddenly dismayed. "Why are all the good ones married or straight?"
"Or eight years old! Did you see him?" Marla demanded. "HE'S A BABY."
"He looked plenty grown up to me." Elliot chortled. Marla rattled the front door knob. She knew the keys were right on the front hall table, where she'd left them. There was nothing to do but wait for the couple to let them in. She started to laugh and Elliot joined her.
They were sitting on the front terrace, enjoying the view and still chuckling intermittently when suddenly they heard the dead bolt and turned around. There in the open doorway stood a young man whose shirt was gone, exposing a physique tanned from his broad shoulders down the flat abs that disappeared past the still unbuttoned waistband of his jeans. He leaned one elbow on the doorjamb, letting his forearm come to a rest atop his sun streaked light brown hair. His face looked remarkably relaxed and satisfied as he gave them a singularly charming smile.
"Hi." He said, offering his right hand. "I'm Logan Mars."
to be continued...