Chapter 21

I make jokes about Hector, but Hector isn't really a joking matter. Hector must have something in mind, must have reasons for transferring egos from body to body. If not, Hector is playing a huge joke on me and John Windom and Debra Oakman and, for all I know, other men, women, and children scattered around our blue orb. Is He figuratively bent over laughing his fool head off right now?

"Will the real Aaron MacDonald please stand up?" I said out loud and stood up. While I was up, I poured a cup of coffee, added some sugar and non-dairy creamer and returned to my drawing board.

After the first swap, I figured that lightning made the swaps. I was struck by lightning at the same instant lightning knocked John Windom to the ground. I figured it was the luck of the draw. Physics rules the universe, and the universe doesn't care. There was no Hector, not at first, not in my mind, a mind that in less than a blink of an eye had moved from one body to another. There was only physics obeying universal laws mankind did not yet know about.

Are the swaps experiments? I asked myself as I took a swallow of coffee. That's what I surmised shortly after my second swap. I'd believed the experiments were conceived to test adaptability. How would Aaron MacDonald adapt to being John Windom? I envisioned Hector with a clipboard checking off items on a list as He observed how I adapted to a different body, environment, and circumstances. And if Hector actually swapped John Windom's ego into my body, how did John Windom react to my circumstances? Not well, if a swap truly happened. Aaron MacDonald's body with John Windom's ego controlling the body was residing in a hospital for the criminally insane.

I'd successfully adapted to being John Windom, so Hector, in his infinite wisdom decided to test my adaptability to becoming a woman. Zap! I took over Debra Oakman's body.

But that scenario leaves out Debra Oakman. What happened to the teenager with a child's mind? I figured that the most likely fate for Debra was death. John Windom's body ceased functioning when my ego left it and moved to Debra's body. Did Debra die during the transfer? Or was Windom's body not habitable when Debra's ego arrived to take up residence in it? Unanswerable questions. What's more, when Debra is stirred into the experiment, adaptability could no longer be the prime test of the experiment. Adults with minds of children cannot adapt. Or maybe they can. I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things, too many to really come to any viable conclusions.

I did know adaptability wasn't Hector's only test. Looking back, I think I was also moved into John Windom's body to help some men, women and children in Ely, Nevada become better human beings. I also believed Hector selected me for my gambling acumen because Windom's financial condition had to be improved to achieve the second test of helping others become better human beings. That held true when I moved to Debra Oakman's body, as well. I grimaced. Except for my new parents, as Debra Oakman I hadn't helped anyone become a better human being, not yet.

"Better get to work on that," I said out loud.

"Work on what?" Angela said as she stepped into the design studio.

"The stables," I said. "What do you know about stables?"

She laughed. "Zero, zip, nada."

"I just decided to enlarge the stables from six to twelve stalls," I said.

"Why?"

"To help someone start a little business," I said.

"Huh?" she said.

"My parents and I will own three horses. That leaves nine vacant stalls for boarding other horses. I'll have Sherry set up an entity whose purpose will be boarding and training horses. We'll sell the entity to someone who loves horses and is knowledgeable about their care and training. Sherry will know the legal hoops we'll need to jump through to make it work."

"Fucking girl scout," Angela muttered.

"Not at all," I said. "My family will board our horses with the horse-boarding entity, but we'll also rent the facilities to the entity. I haven't run the numbers, but I'll bet you a dollar to a donut that the care and feeding of my family's horses will cost us zero, zip, and nada, and at the same time, someone will make a living doing what he loves doing and being all he can be. Hmm, expanding the stables to sixteen stalls works even better. Look," I said as my pencil flashed creating a quick perspective sketch of the expanded stables. "With sixteen stalls, the stable design presents a horizontal structure from a slightly right-of-front viewpoint instead of the essentially vertical structure a six-stall stable would out of necessity have to be."

Angela nodded, ripped off another piece of tracing paper, and overlaid the paper on the original floor plan. "Even better, if we push the tack room and washing stall out from under the current structure, and add an office facility for the new entity, the floor plan becomes a cross design, like this, which will give the right- and left-side elevations more of a horizontal look as well."

I took over the drawing board and quickly sketched yet another perspective drawing showing the cross design. Then I rocked back on my heels and smiled. "Much better," I said. "Good thinking, Angela. Let's go with this approach."

"Okay," Angela said. "I'll refine the revised floor plans and elevations using CAD. When I'm finished, you can do your magic with a perspective rendering."

My smile became a grin. The collaboration seemed to be working.

My cell phone rang. I answered the call.

"Hello, lover," Sue cooed.

"I like the sound of that," I said.

"What are you doing for lunch?" she said.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Business," she said.

"Shucks," I said. "I was hoping for some monkey business."

She laughed. "Sorry, business comes before monkey business. I think I have another condo buyer, Mr. and Mrs. Craig Ross, from..."

Without thinking, I said, "Not interested."

"Huh?" Sue said.

"Sorry," I said trying to recover from my blunder. "I wasn't talking to you, Sue. Could you hold a minute?"

As Aaron MacDonald, I knew Craig Ross, and I didn't like him. He was unscrupulous, immoral, and ran rough-shod over everyone he did business with. I'd been one of his victims. But as Debra Oakman, there was no way that I could know and despise Craig Ross. Then I smiled. Forewarned is forearmed.

I said, "Sorry about that, Sue. Did you say you had a potential buyer for a condo?"

"Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Craig Ross from Phoenix. They're vacationing at the Enchantment Resort and dropped into our office enquiring about condos for sale in Sedona. I told them about the Oakman Condominiums on Oak Creek. What I told them excited them, especially Gladys, the wife. The husband was more interested in the possible pre-construction discount I mentioned. I didn't discuss price with them or the amount of discount you'd offer. I thought I'd better leave that to you and your dad. They're qualified buyers, Debra, so I figured if we took them to L'Auberge' for lunch in a meeting room so you could also do your presentation, I might be able to get their signatures on a purchase agreement today."

Never happen, I thought, but it might be fun to mess with Craig Ross's head for an hour or two.

"Fine by me, but include my father in the luncheon," I said.

"Great, I'll set it up. Is noon all right with you and Mr. Oakman?"

"Yes," I said. Dad, I knew, would drop everything to pre-sell another unit. He and mother still had doubts about qualifying for a ten or thirteen million dollar construction loan, depending on when they'd pay themselves for the land.

"We'll meet you in the lobby of the L'Auberge' lodge at noon," she said.

After I hung up, Angela said, "Who was that?"

"Sue Thomas, one of Stan Michelson's agents," I said.

"What did you mean by hoping for some monkey business?" she said, her eyes twinkling with tease.

"A little flirting, that's all," I said. "Sue has a potential buyer for a condo. Excuse me, Angela. I need to alert my father about a luncheon today with the potential buyer." I walked out of the studio.

I didn't know Gladys Ross, but I knew women like her. She was a trophy wife, drop-dead gorgeous, dressed to the nines, and dripping with expensive jewelry. Craig Ross was his usual obnoxious self, puffed up with an attitude that shouted, "I'm superior to you in every way." I was pleased to see that Dad recognized Mr. and Mrs. Ross for what they were. That would make what I'd do to Ross easier. I did, however, worry about Sue's reaction.

For the most part, we spent the luncheon listening to Ross tell us how important he was. Then he announced that his occupancy in the Oakman Condominiums would enhance our ability to sell the other units. "Consider that fact when you calculate the discount you'll give me," he said.

None of us responded to his suggestion, including Sue. I think she had also figured out what kind of prospect she'd brought to the table.

After lunch, I stood up and did my dog-and-pony show.

When I finished, Ross asked, "What's the best unit in the project?"

"That depends on your and Mrs. Ross's preference, sir," I said, laying it on thick. "Would you prefer the serenity of an Oak Creek view, or a view of the grandeur of the red rock country around Sedona? And is the size of the unit important to you?"

"I'd want the biggest unit you have with a red rock view," he said without consulting his wife. The slight didn't appear to bother her.

"Then Unit 12, is the unit for you," I said.

"How much?" he said.

I consulted one of the price sheets I'd created just before leaving for the luncheon. On the price sheet I selected, I'd increased the prices of all the units to $320 per square foot. "The asking price for that unit is $1,140,000," I said.

Sue's eyes widened but she said nothing.

"How big is the unit?" Ross said.

"3,560 square feet, and it's one of only three units that comes with a two-car attached garage, so there's a small premium for that amenity."

He pulled out a hand-held calculator and did the math. "That's $320 per square foot," he said.

"That sounds about right," I said.

He punched in some more numbers on his calculator, looked up and said, "I'll give you $900,000 for the unit less a pre-construction discount of 5%, which takes the sale price down to $855,000."

Pretending to seriously consider his offer, I didn't respond immediately. Finally, I said, "We'll take $1,000,000 less the 5% discount."

He went to work on his calculator again. "That's $267 per square foot," he said.

"That sounds about right," I said. "That's a savings of around $200,000 from the asking price and should tell you that we heard you when you said your occupancy in the project will enhance our sales. We wouldn't consider giving that much away for anyone but you, Mr. Ross."

His fingers got busy on his calculator. "Make the price $940,000 including the discount, and you've got a deal."

I looked at Dad; he nodded. "All right, Mr. Ross, on three conditions," I said. "Number one, that's a 17.5 % discount from our asking price. If word gets out about this deal, we won't make any money on the project. Accordingly, we must ask you to sign a confidentiality agreement regarding the transaction, which our attorney will prepare this afternoon along with the purchase agreement. Number two, the purchase agreements will contain no financing clause that will let you out of the contract. Number three, we won't accept the deal unless you put up 10% or $94,000 as earnest money to demonstrate your sincerity regarding the transaction."

"I'll sign the confidentiality agreement and agree to striking the financing clause," he said, "but I'll only put up $50,000 as earnest money. Ask anyone I do business with. My word is my bond. Take it or leave it."

I wanted to laugh in his face to counter the "my word is my bond" boldface lie. Instead, I looked at Dad. He nodded. I rose to my feet. "You've got a deal, Mr. Ross."

He took my outstretched hand in his sweaty palm. I'd scrub my hand with soap and water—twice—at my earliest opportunity.

Dad and I were in Sherry's office waiting for her to complete the documents for the Ross sale, when Sue busted into the conference room and, with a happy shriek, landed on my lap and gave me a passionate kiss.

Sherry had followed Sue into the room. Laughing, she said, "Debra, I think you've just been outed in front of your father."

Dad, I noticed, was blushing. I shrugged and kissed Sue back.

"You're a genius," Sue said when she came up from the kiss. "How did you know Ross was an asshole of the first order before you met him at L'Auberge'?"

I laughed and said, "I didn't. I prepared three price sheets, one at $250 per square foot for each unit, one at $285 per square foot, and the last at $320 per square foot. About a minute into the luncheon, I knew Ross was trouble with a capital T, so I hit him with the $320 per square foot price."

"Perfect," she gushed and kissed me again.

"I don't understand," Shelly said.

"Likewise," Dad said.

I introduced Sue to Shelly and said, "Sue, would you please explain the deal to Shelly and Dad?"

"I will," she said.

Sue was a good storyteller with a dramatic flair, not to mention perfect comedic timing. She had Shelly and Dad cracking up with laughter a couple of times during her exaggerated rendition of how I'd hoodwinked Ross into paying full price for the unit he agreed to purchase.

"Now I understand why you demanded a confidentiality agreement," Sherry said. "You didn't want it to stop Ross from boasting about the sweet deal he negotiated, but rather to stop him from discussing the transaction at all, because during any such a discussion he might find out he actually paid full-price for his unit without a discount."

"Yes and no," I said. "He'll find out he's been hoodwinked when we initiate the marketing plan and publish the asking prices for the units. I'm hoping the confidentiality agreement will stop him from complaining about the price he paid to anyone but us. That's why I wanted the agreement to survive the closing by five years. I wanted the financing clause removed from the standard purchase agreement because I didn't want him to have the option to take a walk with the excuse that he couldn't arrange acceptable financing, and for the same reason, I wanted a large earnest money payment that would hurt him if he defaults and doesn't close. I could be wrong about Ross, but he struck me as unscrupulous, immoral, and the type of man that runs rough-shod over everyone he does business with. If I'm wrong, we'll go back to him and give him the 5% discount from the price he agreed to pay for his unit and modify the purchase agreement accordingly."