By Ovi Catanescu with Maria's recollections
In October 1995, Maria and I moved into our brand-new house in Hunters Ridge, a development in Hoffman Estates, Illinois.
We were delighted with our decision.
Especially because we had finally sold our previous house on Bradford Lane.
The one with the ghost.
And yes, as far as I was concerned, we sold the house with the ghost included.
After that experience, I had one very specific requirement for our next home: it had to be brand-new.
No previous owners. No mysterious history. And, preferably, no ghosts.
Hunters Ridge was exactly what we wanted.
We loved the neighborhood so much that we couldn't stop talking about it. We recommended it to friends, and eventually some of them moved into the community themselves.
The builder, Pasquinelli, was offering attractive incentives to encourage people to purchase homes in the development.
At the time, Maria was working as a real estate agent. She also introduced some of her customers to Pasquinelli properties.
That particular year, she sold two of the builder's new homes. One was in our own Hunters Ridge community, and the other was in a similar development in another Chicago suburb.
Little did she know that those two sales would bring her something considerably more exciting than a commission.
The Invitation
Every year, Pasquinelli organized a special recognition dinner for real estate agents who had sold at least one of the company's new homes.
It was an opportunity for the builder to thank the realtors for their business, treat them to a nice dinner, and recognize their contributions.
In the spring of 1996, only a few months after we moved into our new house, Maria received her invitation.
And knowing Maria, she made absolutely sure she wasn't going to miss it.
I wasn't there. We had two little boys at home, and I missed what would become one of the most memorable evenings of Maria's real estate career.
But I certainly heard about it afterward.
There were approximately 200 to 250 real estate agents attending that evening.
At the end of dinner came the event everyone was waiting for: a raffle.
And these weren't ordinary door prizes.
There were three cash prizes:
First prize: $5,000
Second prize: $2,000
Third prize: $2,000
To participate, each realtor had to place a business card into the drawing.
When Maria approached the lady collecting the cards, she handed over hers.
But the lady had something to tell her.
Since Maria had sold two Pasquinelli homes that year, she was entitled to enter two business cards.
Well, Maria didn't need to be told twice.
She handed over her second card, smiling.
After all, two chances were better than one.
The Drawing
All the business cards were placed into a large wire cylinder, the kind that could be rotated to mix everything thoroughly.
The cards were shuffled and mixed, and the owner of the company, Mr. Anthony Pasquinelli, stepped forward to draw the winners.
The first prize was $5,000.
He reached into the cylinder, pulled out a business card, looked at it, and announced the winner.
Maria!
She had won the grand prize!
Five thousand dollars!
She went forward, received an envelope containing her check, and returned to her seat.
For someone who had never won a lottery or any other prize in her life, $5,000 was quite an introduction to the world of good luck.
But the evening wasn't over.
Mr. Pasquinelli returned to the cylinder to draw the second prize.
Another $2,000.
He reached in, pulled out a card, and looked at the name.
Then he looked at it again.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"I can't believe this!"
And then he announced the name.
Maria. Again!
Yes. The same Maria.
The same woman who had just won $5,000.
Nobody could believe it.
Out of approximately 200 to 250 realtors, with all those business cards in the cylinder, the first two winning cards belonged to the same person.
My wife.
The third prize went to another realtor.
Apparently, even Maria's luck had its limits.
Seven Thousand Dollars
That evening, Maria went to a real estate recognition dinner and came home with $7,000 in prize money.
Two prizes.
Two business cards.
One very lucky woman.
I wasn't there to witness the excitement, but I can imagine the expression on her face when Mr. Pasquinelli called her name the second time.
And I can certainly imagine her telling me about it afterward.
It was the kind of story that becomes part of a family's history, one that gets retold over the years and somehow never loses its charm.
But recently, when Maria read the story I had written about that evening, she remembered something I had forgotten.
She was wearing a green dress.
And not just any green dress.
It was one I had bought for her.
She no longer has it, and I honestly didn't remember its color until she reminded me.
Green.
The color of American dollar bills.
Was it a coincidence? Of course.
But if you're going to win $7,000 in one evening, you might as well dress to match the money!
Apparently, I had picked the right color.
A Little Lottery Money
Even today, all these years later, Maria still enjoys trying her luck occasionally.
When we travel, she sometimes buys ten or fifteen dollars' worth of lottery tickets at a gas station, usually once on the way to our destination and very rarely on the return trip.
Just a little pleasure, and perhaps the excitement of wondering whether Lady Luck might smile at her again.
And you know what?
I don't complain.
Whenever I think about those $7,000 she brought home from the Pasquinelli dinner, I figure she's earned herself a little lottery money for the rest of her life.
Besides, who am I to argue with a woman who won first and second prize in the same drawing?
We started our life in Hunters Ridge determined to leave the ghost of Bradford Lane behind us.
Instead, we ended up with a wonderful neighborhood, friends who followed us there, and one extraordinary story about Maria's lucky night.
Some people spend their whole lives waiting for their lucky day.
Maria had hers twice in one evening.
And if she wants to spend another ten or fifteen dollars on lottery tickets during our next trip, I'll be right there beside her, smiling.
After all, she's already proved that sometimes the impossible really does happen.
The Owl Doesn't Forget. 🦉