We were in Produce this morning, considering the virtues of the local organic strawberries that the teachers at Park School told the fifth graders to tell their parents to buy. (Supposedly, they prevent global warming.) That's when we ran into one of the 4,000 real estate brokers who live in our little town of 13,000 people.
To divert her from the baby arugula, we said casually, "So, how are things?"
"Busy," she said. She looked more excited than you would expect of someone who was examining carrots, even if they were tiny purple-colored carrots that save polar ice caps.
"Really?" we asked skeptically, having read in the paper how there's this big real estate crisis that is going to plunge us into bankruptcy and out on the street, where we'll be living off the muddy stems of other people's arugula that we scrounged from the garbage.
She leaned closer. "Did you hear about the house out on Strawberry Point?" she asked. "The one that was listed for almost $4 million?"
"You mean the one that's been sitting there for a while now?" we asked.
"It's not sitting anymore," she said. "It sold!"
True story? Eager to confirm it as quickly as possible, we bypassed our favorite checker Barbara (she chats) for the fast bagger on Three.
It turned out that not only is the house—5 BR, 4581 square feet, with "take-your-breath-away views"—in contract, it also got multiple offers. At least two. We'll let you know the sale price when it posts.