Chapter 136 Emma's Day

Emma's alarm went off at 6:45 a.m. She turned it off and picked up her phone from the nightstand. Two emails had arrived during the night, along with a message from the agency group chat and an advertisement. No new message from Aldric.

She opened the first email. A landlord wanted to add a storage unit to his listing and was asking whether that justified raising the rent. The second wanted to know why his apartment had not received any applications since being listed. Emma checked the time it had been sent: 11:42 p.m. At that point, the listing had been online for eleven hours, a significant portion of which most potential applicants had spent asleep... Both landlords could survive until nine.

Before locking her phone, her eyes returned to her conversation with Aldric. Their last exchange had been the previous day.

Aldric: I hope tomorrow will be less difficult.

Emma: Me too. Thank you 😊

In the shower, she went over her schedule. Two property inspections, three landlords to follow up with, a valuation to correct, and lunch with Sarah at one. That last item should have been the simplest, but their conversation the previous day made that prediction less certain. Sarah might consider lunch an excellent opportunity to bring up Aldric again. Emma had no intention of giving her the chance.

She got dressed, tied back her hair, and went into the kitchen. While the coffee was brewing, her phone vibrated on the counter, and Emma turned her head. It was only Léa.

Léa: Are you getting here around 9?

Emma: Yes. Why?

Léa: Nothing urgent. I just have a question about a file.

Emma took a sip of coffee as she reread nothing urgent. The last two times Léa had used that expression, one had involved a landlord threatening to take his apartment off the market, and the other an applicant who had arrived at a viewing with his parents, his brother, and a laser measuring device. Her professional experience therefore suggested treating the expression with a certain degree of caution.

Emma: Okay. We'll look at it when I get there.

She finished her coffee, picked up her bag, and left her apartment. On the metro, she found a seat near a door, checked her calendar, confirmed the first property inspection, and replied to a landlord who had just sent her three question marks because his message from the previous day had gone unanswered overnight.

Once the message was sent, Emma remained on the conversation screen. Her chat with Aldric was still near the top of the list, and no new message had appeared. She put her phone back in her bag. She wasn't checking whether he had written to her. She had opened her messages for work and simply happened to notice his absence along the way...

At 8:52 a.m., Emma pushed open the door of the agency. Léa was already sitting behind her computer and looked up.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

Emma took off her jacket and hung it up. When she turned around, Léa was still looking at her.

"Your file?"

"Yes. I need your opinion."

"Your message said it wasn't urgent. And now you're looking at me like something is about to catch fire."

Emma went to her desk, set down her bag, then stopped by the agency kitchen to make some coffee. When she returned, Léa was on the phone with a client, and no alarming folder had appeared yet. There was still a chance that her "little question" really was little. Experience suggested not counting on it too much.

She placed her coffee to the right of her keyboard and her phone to the left, turned on her computer, and opened her calendar. The first property inspection was confirmed, as was the second. One landlord had replied to her follow-up, and the valuation was still waiting to be corrected.

By 9:06, Emma was even a few minutes ahead of schedule. She began correcting the valuation, checked two neighborhood references, and replied to a message about a viewing scheduled for the following day. Four minutes later, her phone vibrated in her bag. She picked it up and found a message from Sarah.

Sarah: Still good for 1?

Emma: Yes. And just so you know, I'm not talking about Aldric.

Sarah: I didn't ask.

Emma: Perfect.

At 9:13, Léa arrived at her desk clutching a folder against her chest like something that might explode.

"Do you have five minutes?"

"Are those five minutes going to turn into fifty?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that."

Léa had been working at the agency for less than two months. Efficient and attentive, she was still eager to prove that she deserved her place there. So far, their interactions had mostly involved borrowed keys, rescheduled viewings, and coffees drunk too quickly. She placed the file in front of Emma.

"Mr. Dufour and Ms. Bensaïd. They've been looking for an apartment for six weeks. They viewed the apartment on Rue Pasteur yesterday, they love it, their application is complete, and the landlord is ready to review it."

"So far, nothing explosive."

"They broke up last night."

"Oh."

Léa's nothing urgent had just joined the list of expressions Emma would no longer trust.

"And they both want the apartment."

A breakup complicated an application.

"They're both in the reception area."

Emma turned her head. Through the glass partition, Mr. Dufour was sitting on the very edge of an armchair while Ms. Bensaïd remained standing near the window. Neither was looking at the other, and three meters separated them.

"They arrived together?"

"Separately. Thirty seconds apart."

"I don't know what to tell them. The application is in both their names. He says he's the one who found the listing. She says she's the one who provided most of the supporting documents. They want me to choose."

Emma opened the folder. Income statements, contracts, tax notices, supporting documents. Everything that had been usable the day before now described a couple that no longer existed. She had seen landlords change their minds, applicants change guarantors, and even a man discover during a viewing that his partner had never actually intended to move in with him. Somehow, the Dufour-Bensaïd application had still managed to present her with a new problem.

"You don't have to choose."

"They think I do."

"We cancel their joint application. Their circumstances have changed, so the file no longer reflects reality. If they still want the apartment, they each submit a separate application with their own guarantees. Then the landlord decides using the same criteria as for anyone else."

Léa glanced toward the reception area.

"They're going to argue."

"Probably. The question is where. You take Ms. Bensaïd, and I'll take Mr. Dufour in here. We give them the same information and don't take either side. Then we compare notes."

"Great. I'll handle it."

She stopped at the door.

"Should I ask him to come in here?"

"Yes. Send him in."

"Got it."

A few minutes later, two knocks sounded against the open door. Mr. Dufour was waiting in the hallway. Emma gestured toward the chair in front of her desk and waited for him to sit before going over the details of the application with him.

The conversation lasted twenty-eight minutes. For the first six, Mr. Dufour explained that he had been the one to find the listing. For the next eight, the fact that he had chosen the neighborhood apparently became a second form of priority. At the nineteen-minute mark, he asked whether the agency could confirm to Ms. Bensaïd that he had a greater need for the extra bedroom.

Look to NovelPhoenix for the author's own posting; this page contains a copy made without permission, while reading there supports their work.

Emma let him finish. Clients trying to win her agreement often needed to reach the end of their reasoning before they could accept that she was not going to give it to them.

"I understand that this apartment means something to you. But the agency cannot arbitrate your breakup or turn a joint application into an individual one without reviewing the file again. We'll apply the same procedure to your former partner."

"So you're going to make us compete for it?"

"Your separation has created two separate housing applications. The agency didn't create that situation."

"You really can't tell the landlord that it was my apartment to begin with?"

"It wasn't your apartment, Mr. Dufour. The two of you submitted an application together."

"Yes, but I'm the one who found the listing."

"I've noted that."

"So it counts?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"What about the fact that I work twelve minutes away?"

"That will be included in your application if it's relevant to your employment situation."

"I already have my furniture too. It's the right size."

"The landlord isn't going to select a tenant based on the dimensions of their sofa."

"I bought the curtains."

"I'm sorry."

"One hundred and ninety euros. They're custom-made."

"They must be very nice."

Emma nodded with all the gravity deserved by one hundred and ninety euros' worth of curtains that now found themselves without an apartment.

"You'll be able to submit your application today. Ms. Bensaïd will have the same opportunity, and the landlord will review both files."

Mr. Dufour gathered his papers, but his eyes returned to Emma.

"What about the curtains?"

"I'm afraid that's something the two of you will have to work out between yourselves."

At the door, he turned around one last time.

"You did write down that I'm the one who found the listing, right? And that I work twelve minutes away?"

"Yes, Mr. Dufour. Have a good day."

"Have a good day."

As she walked him out, Léa was coming out of the other office with Ms. Bensaïd. The former couple passed each other without a word. Ms. Bensaïd left first, and Mr. Dufour waited before following her.

Léa remained by the door.

"She cried."

"And you?"

"Almost."

"Bad business strategy."

Léa laughed despite herself.

Emma handed her the form she had just filled out.

"We'll compare our information, then you can send them the procedure in writing. And find two similar properties. They're both attached to this one, but at least one of them is going to have to consider something else."

At 1:05 p.m., Emma met Sarah at a restaurant two streets away from the agency. Sarah was already seated with a carafe of water in front of her.

"Your catastrophic day?"

Emma set down her bag.

"A couple broke up between viewing an apartment and submitting their application. They both want the same place."

"Romantic."

They ordered. Emma told her about her morning while they waited for their food. Sarah wanted to know whether Ms. Bensaïd had presented an argument as compelling as Mr. Dufour's curtains. Emma explained that she had simply pointed out that she had provided most of the documents.

"So their relationship is over, but their rental application is still fighting for custody of the apartment."

"That's about right."

The waiter returned with their plates and set them down. Emma thanked him and picked up her cutlery. Sarah had already started eating when Emma took a sip of water.

"Speaking in purely general terms, if a man checks his phone several times during dinner, does that indicate that he wants to leave?"

Sarah's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

"I don't give free consultations during my lunch break."

"I'm not asking for a consultation."

"You just gave me a behavior and asked me to interpret it."

"This is a conversation between friends."

"Then, as your friend: it depends. As a psychologist: I refuse to bill the rest of this at zero euros."

"Imagine this hypothetical man accepts a woman's invitation to dinner. She orders for both of them and, during the meal, he behaves strangely. He checks his phone, sometimes seems to be waiting for something, and asks her questions she doesn't really understand. But when she finally asks whether he wants to leave, he looks genuinely surprised."

"No."

"I haven't asked the question yet."

"You added 'hypothetical.' That's the lab coat of lying."

"You could at least wait until you have all the information."

"What's the hypothetical man's name?"

Emma picked up her glass.

"That's not relevant."

"Hypothetical Aldric?"

Emma put her glass back down.

"You lack scientific rigor."

"And you lack subtlety."

"Suppose a real estate professional wanted to better understand the nonverbal signals of a fictional male client in order to improve the quality of her customer service."

"Second refusal. And this one deserves a penalty for fraudulent use of professional terminology."

"Fine. I'm talking about Aldric..."

"I identified the patient before the first question."

"He's not a patient."

"Perfect. Now that you're no longer asking me for a diagnosis, tell me what hurt you."

"I didn't say I was hurt."

"No. You just gave me three different versions of a question about a man checking his phone."

"One."

"The fictional real estate professional counts."

Emma wanted to correct Sarah, but doing so would only confirm her argument.

"If he didn't matter to you," Sarah continued, "you would've decided he was being rude and moved on."

That was what Emma would have advised someone else. A man spends dinner checking his phone? Either he has a reason, or he would rather be somewhere else. In either case, asking once was usually enough.

"He didn't want to leave," she said. "I'm almost certain."

"Then what's bothering you?" Sarah asked.

"Not understanding what he was doing. With Aldric, there's usually some kind of logic. It might be strange, but it's there."

"You could ask him."

Emma took a bite.

It was a reasonable solution. She probably would have suggested it to Léa if the problem had involved a client. It became considerably less appealing when she had to apply it to herself.

"What if he answers and I don't like the answer?"

"Then at least you'll know."

"I'm not sure that's better."

"That's not what you're worried about."

"Then what am I worried about?"

"What he thinks of you."

"His opinion matters to me," she admitted. "There. If he thinks I'm boring, intrusive, or... whatever, I don't want to know. But I can't stand not knowing either."

"Now, that's not a consultation."

"Good."

"It's a confession."

Emma checked the time.

"I need to get back to work."

"Escape accepted. Temporarily."

Back at the agency, the situation had changed. Ms. Bensaïd could afford the rent on her own, but no longer wanted to live in an apartment chosen for a life together. Mr. Dufour still wanted the property, but his individual income now meant he needed an additional guarantor.

Léa had already found two comparable listings.

"I called the landlords. The first one can do viewings starting tomorrow. The second is a little more expensive, but it's closer to Ms. Bensaïd's work."

"Very good. Call her first. Don't present it as a replacement. It's a new project. For Mr. Dufour, get the guarantor before sending anything to the landlord on Rue Pasteur."

"Do you think she'll agree?"

"I think she deserves to decide without her ex-partner sitting three meters away from her."

An hour later, Ms. Bensaïd agreed to a viewing the following day, and Mr. Dufour sent over his guarantor's details.

After the last call, Léa remained by Emma's desk.

"Thank you for not doing it for me."

"You handled it well."

"After you told me what to do."

"You're learning. That's normal."

Léa held out her hand.

"Next time a couple breaks up in my reception area, I'll panic for less time."

Emma shook her hand.

"Good attitude."

Her last exchange with Aldric had been the previous day. Emma opened their conversation, her thumb hovering motionless over the screen.

She had already called him yesterday.

Two calls in two days was hardly excessive. She knew people who called each other several times in the same day. That observation did not stop her from locking her phone.

Three minutes later, she was reading the same sentence in a file for the fourth time without knowing what it said.

Emma sighed and pushed her keyboard away. She no longer even understood why she was hesitating so much. Aldric had never given her the impression that she was bothering him, and just yesterday, he had stayed on the phone listening to her talk about her day.

She wanted to talk to him. She could admit that. But she also wanted to know whether he wanted to talk to her.

There was one very simple way to get an answer, even if it involved doing exactly what she had been trying to avoid: asking him.

At five o'clock, she stopped negotiating with herself.

Emma: Another catastrophic day. Can I call you?

Her phone rang.

"You can," Aldric said as soon as she answered.

"Aldric, I called you yesterday."

"Yes."

"And I'm calling you again today."

"Technically, I'm the one who just called you."

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I've been telling you about my problems two days in a row. Doesn't that bother you?"

"I enjoy listening to you."

"I don't want you to say that because you think you have to help me."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you help people even when it means doing things you have absolutely no desire to do."

"Not always."

"Very often."

"I don't want to become the person who calls you every evening to complain about her day while you listen out of a sense of duty."

"I was glad you called yesterday."

"All right. In that case, you asked for it."

"What?"

"The Dufour-Bensaïd file."

She told him about the breakup, the two applications, their opposing claims, and Léa's first few minutes of panic.

"And Léa?"

"She handled Ms. Bensaïd. Then she found two other apartments and made the calls herself."

"You were right to let her handle it. You gave her a method without taking away her responsibility."

All day, Emma had been telling Léa that she had done a good job. She had received her colleague's thanks, found two new options for the clients, and resolved the problem without taking either side.

None of those things had brought her the same sense of relief as that one sentence.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"You stopped answering."

"I know. I was enjoying a moment when you weren't asking me a difficult question."

They talked for a few more minutes. Aldric told her that Lucas had somehow managed to lose their entire supply of packing tape during a move.

"All of it?"

"Six rolls."

"How?"

"Patrick is still trying to determine that."

Emma laughed.

"Lucas doesn't know?"

"He claims he put them in the truck."

"And they're not there?"

"No. Patrick asked him how it was possible to lose six rolls at the same time."

"What did he say?"

"That the positive side was that they were probably all in the same place."

Emma burst out laughing.

"Did Patrick appreciate that?"

"No... He gave him money to buy more. Lucas came back with eight rolls."

"Why eight?"

"They were on sale."

Emma laughed again.

"So you gained two rolls."

"That is also Lucas's argument. Patrick does not appear to consider it valid."

When they hung up, the Dufour-Bensaïd file still existed, two property inspections were waiting for her the next day, and Sarah certainly had not forgotten their lunch conversation. None of that had changed, but Emma still felt a little lighter.

Her phone vibrated.

Sarah: So?

Emma: He listened. And he thinks I handled it well.

Emma: And he said he was glad I called.

Sarah: Oh. That's actually pretty cute.

Emma: He was mostly just being nice.

Sarah: You're smiling, aren't you?

Emma: Not at all.

Sarah: Liar.

This time, Emma laughed, but her phone immediately started ringing. Sarah had apparently decided that messages were no longer enough.

"I thought you didn't give free consultations."

"I'm not working. Right now, I'm making fun of my friend."

"That's a reassuring distinction."

"It's a very clear one."

"And before you start analyzing everything again, I'm not going to ask you how Aldric feels."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to ask you how you feel."

"Of course..."

Sarah laughed.

"Emma... what if it isn't his behavior that's worrying you, but what you're hoping it means?"