Page 14 of Wynns of Change
“They mentioned an accelerant may have been used,” Harlow said.
“Maybe,” David cautioned. “Nothing was ever determined.”
“Except for the insurance company refusing to pay out because of the inconclusive cause,” she reminded him.
“Yep. That was their loophole to get out of paying.”
During the walk home, Harlow mulled over her father’s recounting of what he’d seen and heard. She remembered running into him as he was leaving his bedroom, having both heard the alarms and sirens at the same time.
She would never forget the moment she found out her mother was trapped inside the burning building. None of the guests noticed anything out of the ordinary. Had there been an accelerant? If so, who had set the fire and why?
Back at the cottage, Harlow got to work catching up on emails. She spent another hour on the phone with her publicist, Janice, lining up press releases to promoteA City of Glass.
Despite Robert’s attempts to continue micromanaging Harlow’s every move, she was proud of herself for sticking to her guns.
Vic had been reinstated as her bodyguard after signing a new contract, which was merely a formality. Janice was handling all of Harlow’s public releases.
The call ended, and she jotted down some reminder notes before checking her email account one last time. Robert had sent listing agreements for all three of their properties.
In the past, she would have given them a passing glance and signed off, letting her husband handle the details. And she was tempted to skim over them until the little voice inside her head told her she needed to take a closer look.
Harlow scanned the first page, noticing a ten percent commission for the Malibu house. She clicked away and opened the New York apartment agreement. Same thing. Ten percent commission. Ditto for the condo in Palm Beach. “The commission rate sounds very high,” she muttered under her breath.
“What sounds high?” Her father looked up from his newspaper.
“Robert sent over the listing agreements. All three properties give the agents a ten percent commission.”
“Ten percent.” David’s jaw dropped. “Six percent, split between the listing and selling agent is standard.”
“That’s what I thought. This should be fun.” Harlow heaved a heavy sigh and dialed Robert’s number. As anticipated, it went to voicemail. She briefly explained her concern over the commissions, and asked him to call her back. “Maybe he had the agents write it in and they made a verbal agreement to give him a cut.”
“So you would get less,” her father said. “I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“Me either. I’m not signing. The agents will make good money. I’m thinking more along the lines of six percent, seven tops.”
“Good girl. Let Robert know you’re paying attention.”
She started to set her phone aside when it rang. “It’s him. I’m putting the call on speaker.” Harlow pressed the answer button. “You got my message?”
“I did. Commissions on luxury properties are typically paid out at a higher rate.”
“Ten percent is too high. The agents will make good money at the standard six percent.”
“We can try to negotiate, but don’t expect them to put in additional effort.”
“What sort of extra effort do you get for four percent?” she asked.
“Agents host high-end open house parties, create topnotch glossy flyers. You can’t go cheap when you’re trying to sell a luxury property.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, but it seems excessive.”
Robert muttered something unintelligible under his breath. It sounded like “annoying.” “What would make you happy, Harlow?” he asked sarcastically.
“Six percent. Seven and a half, tops.”
“They might not take it. We might have to find other listing agents.”
“Oh, well.”
