Free Women Without Men by Shahrnush Parsipur Page A

will notice what a jewel this property is,” Ostovary said.
    Ignoring his pitch, Farrokhlaqa walked toward the gate ahead of the men. She stopped in front of the gate, turned her head to the left shoulder, a pose she had learned from her mother, and asked, “Is that it?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Ostovary answered, producing a large key from his pocket. “Allow me,” he said as he opened the gate and stepped back for the woman to pass.
    Cautiously, Farrokhlaqa stepped across the threshold, trembling with excitement, which she tried to hide from her companions. Nonchalantly she started to walk along the gravel path while voraciously taking in every detail.
    â€œExactly as you desired, madam,” Ostovary noted, “just a few minor touchups here and there, and it will look gorgeous.” Farrokhlaqa nodded her head, acknowledging the remark.
    The path circled around a reflecting pool with a bedstead next to it and led to the mosaic steps in front of the house. The building did not look very attractive. It was a slapdash, contractor-built job and it showed. Farrokhlaqa felt a tinge of disappointment.
    â€œA coat of stucco would do the façade wonders,” Ostovary suggested.
    Farrokhlaqa considered it for a moment. It wasn’t a bad idea, she thought. In fact it was a good idea, she decided, as she looked at the windows and found them of proper size, given the local climate.
    Ostovary unlocked the front door to a spacious, cool entrance hall, with three large rooms on each side as well
as a kitchen, a shower room, and a bathroom. The windows of the rooms looked out onto the garden and a narrow backyard.
    â€œI like the kitchen,” was Farrokhlaqa’s first comment. “It is nice and big. But just one shower is not enough. We also need more than three rooms. I expect a lot of company.”
    â€œAs I said earlier, madam,” Ostovary said, “The foundation is firm and steel beams have been used in the framework. You can add another floor with no problem.” As he moved to another corner of the hall he added expansively, “A staircase could go from here to the top floor. An atrium could be set up here with a tree growing through to the next floor, even through the roof. It will look palatial.”
    The thought of a tree growing inside a house befuddled Farrokhlaqa. “I came up with that idea myself,” Ostovary said with a touch of pride.
    â€œWe’ll see about that,” Farrokhlaqa declared, unconvinced. “As the tree grows, it will damage the foundation.” She had liked the house, although she knew she should not display enthusiasm in front of Ostovary. She had already decided on adding a second floor and fancied an expanded, dynamic social life with friends coming to visit on weekends and holidays. Thirty-two years of living with a cranky, temperamental man had lost her many friends. But that might be a blessing: she could initiate new friendships and associations of her own choice, with artists, writers, scholars, turning her parlor into a salon, in the fashion of high-class ladies of eighteenth-century Paris she had read about in novels. In the meantime, Ostovary
kept up a running commentary as they continued the inspection of various parts of the property. He even counted the trees and had ideas about each. To keep up the garden, it would be necessary to hire a horticulturist, he believed. The garden had been left untended for a year and looked wild and overgrown.
    Ostovary had arranged for the tour to be punctuated with stops at various trees, about each of which he had comments or ideas. “Madam,” he said, “you will not find a better deal in all of Karadj. To be honest, there are nicer homes and gardens here, but for the price you are paying, this is the very best. With minor improvements, this will turn into a paradise.” Farrokhlaqa had already made up her mind to buy the property and considered Ostovary’s