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was one of the better salespeople at her realty firm. That was why she had been assigned the Berman Street house. The house had gone through five owners in the last three years, and was recognized in her firm as a “problem property”. Considered a hard sell, management had made the executive decision to add it to Samantha’s portfolio. They believed only a few of their realtors were capable of unloading it for a fifth time. Samantha happened to be one of those realtors. Not that there was anything physically wrong with the house. The building was in fine form, and it came with a reasonably-sized and well-tended estate. Inspectors could find nothing wrong with the place and as long as a potential customer didn’t know the house’s history, Samantha had no problem seeding their interest, especially with an unusually low asking price. The problem was that Windsor had a small town mentality and that meant that everyone knew everybody else’s business. Rumors had already infiltrated the community as to why new owners were so quick to abandon the place. As a result, Samantha could only hope for a sale involving an outsider. Nobody local was willing to go anywhere near the place and certainly not to take ownership. Samantha glanced over at the file folder on the passenger seat. Fortunately, her next potential buyer was such an outsider – a single woman, a divorcee actually, from a neighbouring area. Samantha liked divorcees. They often had the urgent desire to change their surroundings and compromised much more quickly than the average married soul - anything to escape a place haunted by memories. Haunted --- Samantha chided herself for thinking the word. She didn’t want to jinx this sale from the get-go. Her cell phone rang. “Allen’s Realty. Samantha speaking.” “Heeeey, Cookie. She run off screaming yet?” The voice on the other end belonged to Scott, a rival realtor at her firm. He had phoned to taunt Samantha, a little disgruntled that management had chosen her to handle the Berman Street challenge over him, but also somewhat relieved that it was her problem and not his. “I’m still waiting for her to get here, Scott. Now bugger off. I don’t want your kind of bad luck to rub off on me. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. As long as she doesn’t get wind of what the previous owners believed they saw, I think she may be a sure thing.” “Bah! No such thing. Not that it matters, and no extra pressure, but we’ve got a betting pool going at the office. I say she bolts.” Scott sounded cocky.