Liz Balmaseda [Balmaseda - Sweet Mary

THE WORST WEEK of my life began like any other late summer week in Miami, stifling hot. The August steam rose from the Everglades and wrapped itself around the city with a vengeance. No ocean breeze or inland gust seemed strong enough to break its stranglehold. The steam became our second skin, a filmy, salty gauze impossible to wash off. I couldnt imagine being one of those plastic types who, despite the 95-degree swelter, insisted on her usual Miami corporate-level quantities of makeupthe SPF, the primer, the base, the bronzer, the inner eye highlighter, the lip plumping gloss, all intended to create that fresh from the beach glow. To me, the thought of slipping into a business suit seemed punishing enough without the added torture of having to fabricate evidence of a nonexistent trip to the beach. Besides, who needs makeup when you can get second-degree sunburn from walking the dog for fifteen minutes?

I fool myself into thinking I can deflect the heat by wearing white. Of course, nothing deflects the kind of heat Im talking about. But I wear white anyway because I like what it says about you. It says youre gutsy. It takes nerve to wear a narrow white skirt cut a few inches above the knee and a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to that exact place where your breasts just begin to rise from your ivory lace balconette. Thats my no-fail outfit, the one I wear when I have a monumental deal I need to close pronto.

Thats what I wore on the day I took the old cowboy out to the middle of the boonies to show him the Glades Terrace property. I piled this guyand his maroon-colored poly-blend suit, his diamante-encrusted boots, and his ruby-studded gold braceletinto my white BMW M6 and tore across westbound Tamiami Trail just before noon. He was a balding man of rugged complexion, Texan, about sixty years old, and he had an air about him I couldnt pinpoint, not at first. Then again, he once won the World Series of Poker, cashing in at $7.3 million, and I imagine one does not win that ungodly WSOP bracelet if ones intentions are easily read. He seemed charming enough, a soft-spoken sort. But I couldnt tell if he was quiet because he was wily, gullible, or even shy. I was hoping for door number two that morning. I needed gullible in a desperate way.

Sub-Zero fridge. Antique walnut travertine bath. Turkish steam room. European touches. Garage capacity is four luxury-size cars. Or three Hummers

I glanced over at the cowboy to see if I had piqued his curiosity, but he was staring out the window at the dreary landscape of Australian pines and melaleucas and ALLIGATOR WRESTLING signs. In the southern distance, the skies had begun to darken into that deadly shade of charcoal silver that is the default backdrop of summer afternoons in South Florida, and I knew Id better step on the gas if I wanted to outrun the tempest.

I amped up the pitch, too.

The place has history, you know. I hear they busted Al Ca pone out there once, I said to him, but he didnt respond. How about that for cocktail trivia?

The cowboy was unfazed. He seemed perplexed by our approach into the western fringes of the county. He seemed lost in serious thought, something I couldnt afford as we headed for Glades Terrace. No, thinking is definitely not allowed when purchasing property at the precipitous edge of the Florida Everglades.

Its also where they filmed parts of The Specialist . Stallone flick. Great sound track, I said, catching his eye at last.

He gave me a half smile but said nothing. Instead, his eyes traced the pearly buttons of my blouse like a slow bead of sweat, sending an unexpected shiver along the back of my arm. I tried to hide my uneasiness by smiling back, then glancing away as if I were trying to read the road signs. Sly devil, this one. I knew this saleif there was to be a salewould be no slam dunk. But it wasnt until I turned into the overgrown driveway and saw the monumental wreck that was the Glades Terrace property that I realized just how tough the sale would be. It was going to be brutal, even for me. I can sell just about anything. I once sold a 1982 Camaro Iron Duke, deemed to be one of the 50 Worst Cars of All Time by Time magazine, for seven thousand bucks. I sold mangoes on eBay a few summers ago. I knocked them off the tree in my parents back yard and gave them a sexy name: Mangoes from Paradise.

The product description went like this: Kill the pill routine and have a mango! Would you rather choke back your daily dose of horse pills, the vitamin A, the vitamin E, the selenium, the iron, and the beta carotene? Or would you rather dig into a juicy, luscious mango from paradise? I thought so.

And just a few months ago, I sold my wedding dress. This may not seem like a big deal to anyone at first mention, but it was. This was one hideous wedding dress. It was a champagne, textured-taffeta, overly ruffled specimen handpicked by my quite misguided groom as the something new component of my wedding day. Now riddle me this: What kind of lunatic bride allows her fianc to surprise her on the eve of their wedding with the Dress? The kind who deserves to wear it in front of her two hundred closest friends and relatives, as I did. But while my marriage met a crappy fate, my dress did not. It floated down the aisle at the Copacabana Banquet Hall in Hialeah Gardens on the curves of one brave Damaysi Yamisleidy Hernandez, a hairdresser newly arrived from Victoria de las Tunas, Cuba, who married the American boat captain who spirited her across the Straits of Florida. The captain was so smitten with her that he proposed on the sands of Hallandale Beach, moments after reaching dry land. Three days later he was scouring the online classifieds, hoping to find a fancy dress for his honey, and, boom, there it was, a dress that was more than fancyit was fancy on steroids.

The Surprise Me Wedding Dress.

Its not a fairy-tale wedding without a surprise, went my product description. Fellas, this is the dress every bride will dream about. Trust me. It was the biggest surprise of my life.

I sold it for one thousand seven hundred and fifty bucks. So, like I said, I can sell anything. This was my mantra at Glades Terrace that day.