By mid-morning, Hal was up at the cabin. He ran around looking things over and, after finding out that everything had gone fine since they got there (Sally lied to him about what had happened) he happily began checking the place out. One of his favorite expressions was: "Once a real estate salesman, always a real estate salesman!"
When he came in after a couple of hours of scrambling over the building checking for termites and leaks and loose boards of roofing, Sally looked at him and realized that he wore his toneless skin with its loose layer of fat like a baggy suit.
"Guess what, hon?" he asked cheerily when he came in for lunch.
"What?" Sally asked automatically.
"The place is sound as a dollar. Sounder. Listen, I've got this guy who wants a place like this and I think I can turn a quick five grand profit, maybe five and a half. What do you say?"
"If you want to, Hal. This place is getting awfully crowded. There are always people around." Sally tried to disguise her lack of enthusiasm with a lack of real estate knowledge. She knew she'd never come up to the cabin again. Not now, after Ron Thatcher knew about it.
Sally didn't delude herself that she loved Hal. But there were worse things that a girl her age could be doing than staying married to an eager, successful real estate man. Ron Thatcher might have been spectacular in bed, but there was no love lost between them.
At first, Sally had tried to delude herself into thinking that there was something, a spark of some sort glowing between them. But there was no way. Thatcher had been after her ass and fun and games. After he got them, that was the end. He might be back, sniffing, but not for any of those girlish, romantic reasons she often dreamed up.
She ached all over and was glad Hal wasn't romantic. At least he was considerate and that counted for a lot under certain circumstances.
One of the times Hal breezed in, Sally couldn't resist saying, "I feel like fucking, Hal!"
"Later, baby. The kids are all running underfoot. Later."
Later they packed up the kids and got everything into their two cars that was personal. "I'll have it sold by next weekend," Hal boasted to John and Tommy while he supervised the loading.
"Aw, Dad," Tommy said, wrinkling his face in disgust.
"We like it here," John said hastily, before his father could ask Tommy any questions about his face or tone of voice.
"I know," Hal said, "But I'll have another place in a month. I promise you, even better than this one."
"Well, Dad, this place is like special personal to us."
Hal gave John a conspiratorial wink. "Listen, son. It's about time that you were old enough to know that no place is special without a little special pussy. Houses come and go, and you can't hang onto them. They're just a way to make money. The only thing that counts is a good cunt for dipping your wick." Hal had his arm around his son's shoulders. "That's something to hang onto."
"Isn't Mom a good cunt, Dad? Isn't she worth hanging onto?"
Hal laughed nervously. "Sure she is, son. But your old dad is a stud. He's got to get around and spread his wild oats. I was hoping by now you'd understand. I love your mother and want to keep her forever, and by God I will, but she just doesn't have it. I mean," and Hal seemed to stumble a little, "a hot ass she just isn't."
"How do you know?"
"How do I know?" Hal laughed and tightened his grip around his son's shoulders. "John, I can see there's a lot I'd better get down to teaching you, the sooner the better. Jesus, son, don't you know any girls to fuck with?"
"I suppose I do, Dad." And John smiled at Hal…