Page 15 of Wynns of Change
“Fine. I’ll try to renegotiate, but if we’re forced to find new agents, I’m handing it over to you.”
“Good. I’ll be happy to look for someone else. Please let me know how it goes.”
Robert told her he would and abruptly ended the call, basically hanging up on her.
David chuckled. “Your husband isn’t used to the new Harlow.”
“He’s used to me going along with whatever he says. It’s possible we’ll have to pay ten percent, but it doesn’t hurt to try to negotiate a lower rate.” Clicking out of the agreements, Harlow sifted through the current list of upcoming films under consideration.
No longer trusting Robert, she compared the terms with the recently completed contract to make sure he wasn’t trying to pull a fast one.
After finishing, Harlow hit the refresh button to check for emails one more time and found a new message from Robert marked important. Her finger hovered over the button. “Robert sent an important email. It has to do with the listing agreements. Any guesses about what it says?”
“He isn’t going to renegotiate and is putting the ball in your court to find listing agents.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” She double-clicked on the link. Harlow let out a celebratory whoop. “All three agents agreed to the reduced commission rate.”
“Good job,” David said proudly. “Robert could learn a thing or two from you.”
She promptly e-signed the agreements and sent them back with a note, thanking Robert for listening to her suggestion and taking action.
There was no acknowledgement, no reply. Not that she figured she would get one. Acknowledging it would be an admission that she had been right.
In her husband’s way of thinking, he was the smartest, the brightest, the cleverest. Robert did an excellent job of “tooting his own horn.”
The least they could do was agree and be civil about certain issues. It would make life a lot easier.
Harlow gathered up her laptop and papers. Balancing her cell phone on top of the pile, she noticed a new text from friend and fellow “Mackie,” Peyton Dyson, the owner of Mackinac Island’sThe Fudge Shop. She opened the text and found an e-vite attached:
Come join your fellow Mackies for a dinner party tomorrow night!
Where: The Fudge Shop.
When: Friday at 6:00 p.m.
Attire: Casual. (Is there any other way to dress?)
Please RSVP ASAP.
Each of the Mackies was included in the group text.
Harlow promptly replied she would be attending. Meg and Abby Stokely, Noelle, Eryn and Lottie all accepted the invitation.
“The Mackies invited me to a dinner party tomorrow night.”
“Oh boy. A girl’s get-together. Trouble is brewing,” David teased. “Lottie told me they missed you while you were on location.”
“I missed them too.” Harlow had been welcomed with open arms into the Magnificent Mackies, a tight-knit group of women, other islanders who gathered once a week to hang out and encourage one another through life’s ups and downs.
She’d quickly become one of them and looked forward to their weekly meet ups. Sharing, supporting and uplifting, Harlow hadgrown close to each and every one, all uniquely different but finding common ground in their friendships.
The rest of the evening passed by quietly, which suited Harlow just fine. She was looking forward to downtime, to the slower pace of island life.
After dinner, a quick meal of soup and sandwiches, Harlow and Mort took a long walk. They swung by to visit Aunt Birdie, who joined them for the evening stroll.
She filled her aunt in on the listing agreements and told her about the contracts she was considering.
“The good news is I have time to research them and figure out which ones are the best fit,” Harlow said. “For right now, I’m ready for a dose of Mackinac Island relaxation and hopefully get the divorce settled.”
