I didn’t know what I’d been expecting her answer to be, but it wasn’t that. “I’m impressed. You’ve given this a lot more thought than many of the young clients I’ve had before. Those who can afford to buy generally just want the biggest place they can get for their money. It’s a status thing to most.”
“I don’t care much about status.” She offered me a small smile before draining the last couple of sips left in her glass. “Thank you for the card. I’ll be in touch.”
Stepping forward to set the glass down on the counter, she wiggled her fingers in a wave and took off without waiting for a reply. I watched her thread her way through the people and finally disappear through the door.
A part of me wondered if she would come back inside, and for the next few minutes, I kept a close watch on the door. I hadn’t really been ready for that conversation to end yet. I hadn’t even found out what she was doing her doctorate in, and talking to her had been the most fun I’d had in a while. Should’ve gotten her number.
I could kick myself for not getting it, but it was too late now.
A middle-aged couple who I’d pegged as serious potential buyers approached me and distracted me from my thoughts.
After them, a few more people came to me with questions about the property, the previous owners, and why they were selling. The open house only got busier as the afternoon progressed and I got busy doing what I did best, ending the day with no fewer than four offers to take to my clients.
When they returned home, we discussed the turn out and the offers, and by the time I left, I was fairly confident the place was as good as sold. I climbed into my car. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in vivid oranges and pinks as I drove the few miles to my house.
It was only once I was settled on my balcony with a celebratory scotch in hand that I extracted my phone from my pocket to see if Elsie had reached out to me yet. It wasn’t often that I gave a woman my number and she didn’t use it almost immediately, but it seemed she was different.
There were a ton of messages, emails, and missed calls waiting to be returned, but not one of them was from her. I’d gotten a feeling she might be different after our brief conversation, but it seemed like she really wasn’t like most of the women I’d met recently.
It was refreshing to know there were women out there who didn’t fit into the mold I’d come to find annoying. I really should have gotten her number.
I’d thought I could kick myself earlier, but I was seriously tempted to do it now. She still had my number, though.
At least there was that. It put the ball squarely in her court, which wasn’t something I was used to, but I was curious to see what she’d do with it.
Chapter 7
Elsie
“How did it go?” Beth asked as I climbed into my car. “Did you find your dream house?”
I snorted. “I found someone’s dream house, but it isn’t mine.”
After turning the engine over, it took a beat for her voice to flow through my speakers. “How so? Did the agent do that thing where the pictures they put up on the internet aren’t at all what the place really looks like? I hate it when they do that.”
“No, it wasn’t that.” I sat back in my seat and pulled Taydom’s card out of my pocket. Holding it between both my thumbs and index fingers, I rested it on top of the steering wheel. “I don’t think the agent on this house is like that. Honestly, it was my own fault. I misunderstood the advertisement he put up.”
“Damn. What about the others? Didn’t you say there were a few you wanted to have a look at?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I popped into a few of the open houses, but none of them are for me. I think I may need lessons in looking for property because there’s so much I don’t know.”
Or you could just call the hot guy for help like he offered. I shook my head at myself.
If there was anyone who would be able to help me make sense of it all, it probably was Mr. “legitimately the best agent in the city,” but I just didn’t know. He’d seemed nice enough, and I was pretty sure he would divulge all the hidden costs and things, but he was still an agent.
I thought about calling the number anyway, but then Beth’s excited voice was back. “Oh, I can help. I’ve never bought a place myself, but like I said, I love looking at property and going to open houses. I’ve managed to teach myself a little bit about how it works. Wanna come over?”
“Right now?” I frowned as I looked down at the clock on my dashboard, but then I remembered it was a Friday afternoon and there was nothing and no one waiting for me at home anyway. “Never mind. Scratch that. I’ll be right there.”
“I’ll pour the wine,” Beth promised before hanging up.
Traffic had picked up since earlier and it took me much longer to get back than it had to get out to Bishop’s Hollow in the first place, but I was surprised that even at peak time, the drive to the city was more than manageable.
Beth was waiting when I got to her small house and must have seen me pulling up because she opened the front door as soon as I parked. Grabbing my purse, I climbed out of the car and took the glass of wine she held out to me.
With her own in hand, she led me to the swing on her front porch and gestured for me to take a seat. It was one of those oval, hanging, reading chairs and I absolutely adored it. Beth always let me have it when I came over, and she settled on the plastic lawn chair she’d put in front of it.
“So tell me more. You said the place wasn’t for you but why not? What do you feel like you need to learn?”
I tucked my legs in underneath me and cradled the white wine in my lap. “A few things. How to interpret the listings online, for one. It looks like there are a lot of costs involved that don’t show up, and that can make a place that appears to be within budget fall firmly outside of it.”
“That’s true, but I’m sure you’ll get it in no time.” She explained a few of the more basic concepts to me and then frowned. “The agents at the houses you went to should have been able to tell you all this, though. Did you speak to them?”
I felt my cheeks grow warm and it had nothing to do with the wine I was drinking. “I kind of only spoke to one of the agents.”
“What? Why? I mean, I don’t mind talking you through it, but everything I just told you covers the most basic things they should tell you about each individual property. The utilities, for instance, obviously depend greatly on the area and house itself.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not the utilities I’m worried about so much as some of the costs associated with transfer and that kind of thing, but anyway, Bishop’s Hollow is a nice neighborhood, but I’m not sure it’s my scene.”
“Why not?”
“I felt out of place and ended up being super awkward in front of the agent I spoke to.” I told Beth what had happened and chewed on my lips when she laughed. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little bit funny. I wouldn’t worry about it too much, though. Real-estate agents are a lot like lawyers. I think they’re used to being made fun of.”