This week, push comes to shove with the nasty notary.
Our angel now felt more like Lucifer in disguise. We had to act fast. We had to get this house. I grabbed Franck’s arm. “Let’s go ahead and make our offer.”
“Oui.” Franck narrowed his eyes at the scheming on the other side of the fence.
“For the asking price,” I said. It wasn’t really a question.
Franck nodded. Le Maitre leaned down and began to whisper into the agent’s ear while moving him even farther away from us.
“Tout de suite,” Franck added. We moved quickly to break up the worrisome tête à tête.
As we neared them snippets of the promises Le Maitre was pouring into our realtor’s ear floated over to us. “Already have clients lined up. Switzerland. More than the asking price…just what they are looking for…cut for you…”
My fingers balled into fists.
Franck cleared his throat. The agent jumped.
“We are ready to make an offer,” Franck informed him. The agent’s face was bright red and, in stark contrast to Le Maitre’s belligerent countenance, sporting a sheepish expression.
“Quoi?” he spluttered.
“We want to make an offer now.” Franck fixed the pair of them with his gimlet eye. “Our offer will match the asking price.”
“It will also have a time limit of twenty-four hours,’ I added with an arch look at Le Maitre. I wasn’t sure why that stipulation had popped into my head, but there was no time to ponder that now.
Le Maitre tried to stare me down with a haughty look. ‘As your advisor, I really do not believe-”
I turned my back to him and smiled at the real estate agent. “Can you please write up our offer? Now.”
Beads of sweat dripped off his earlobes. “Ici? Maintenant?”
I gave an imperious nod.
Le Maitre brushed past me and stalked to his Mercedes. Before he got there, however, he turned and shot our realtor a meaningful look. “Don’t forget what I said. Call me.”
He sped off in a cloud of dust. The realtor let out a sound of disbelief at the perfidy of his newest accomplice.
“What were the two of your plotting?” Franck demanded.