Page 18 of Sparks Fly

“Of course they are,” I said with a quick smile while juggling my tablet and coffee. “Send them to conference room two and tell them I’ll be right there.”

I made it three steps before Dale from commercial sales stopped me beside the copier. “Hey, quick question about that harbor listing,” he said while waving a folder in my direction.

“Email me,” I said gently but firmly while continuing to walk. “If I stop, I’ll never make it to my desk.”

He laughed and raised the folder in surrender. “Fair.”

Halfway down the hall, Carla leaned out of her office door. “Addison, did the Beacon Hill clients call back?”

“Not yet,” I said while stepping backward toward my office. “But they will.”

I finally slipped inside my office and shut the door behind me, setting my coffee on the desk like it was a fragile artifact. The quiet felt like a small miracle.

For a moment I just stared at my phone, Sawyer’s name hovering somewhere in the back of my mind. Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked it up and typed.

Me: Hey you. Just got back to the office. Already had five showings another lockbox fiasco and a client who thinks their money makes them god. Ugh… and it’s only lunch time. Hope your day is better than mine.

I hesitated for half a second before hitting send. Then I grabbed my tablet and headed for the meeting room. The couple already seated at the polished oak table had the kind of calm that money tended to give people.

“Good afternoon,” I said politely as I set my tablet down. “I’m Addison Hart. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“I’m Valerie,” the woman said gracefully while gesturing toward the man beside her. “And this is my husband, Michael.”

I nodded getting right to it. “So, how can I help you all?”

“We’re looking for something on the water,” Michael said while leaning slightly forward. “Private. Quiet. Eventually where we plan to retire there.”

“Big kitchen,” Valerie added with a hopeful smile. “And no neighbors. Not even across the water.”

My fingers moved across the tablet as I pulled up listings. They had already mentioned in their emails there were no budget constraints, which in my industry was the closest thing to magic words.

“I can make that happen,” I said warmly while turning the screen toward them. “Let me show you a few options that I pulled after reading your email. I think it might be exactly what you’re looking for.”

Outside the window, the bay shimmered beneath the pale afternoon sun, and inside the hunt had already begun.

* * *

By two o’clock, I was headed to a listing appointment with a young couple selling their first home, a newly renovated Victorian. They waited on the wraparound porch with nervous smiles while their golden retriever sprawled at their feet, tongue hanging out like he was already over the whole thing.

“Hey, Addison.” The husband extended his hand. “We’re so glad you could come by.”

“Of course.” I shook it. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing the house.”

Inside, the hardwood floors had been refinished, but they had kept the original moldings and restored the fireplace. A stained-glass window in the entryway cast soft colors across the floor.

“This is beautiful,” I said, running my fingers over the carved banister.

We settled in the front sitting room to talk numbers.

“We were thinking of listing at one point four,” the husband said, glancing at his wife.

I looked through the comps on my tablet. “I think you could get one point five-five. Maybe more if we stage it well and time the listing right. This neighborhood is heating up.”

They stared at me for a second before the wife’s eyebrows lifted and a smile spread across her husband’s face.

“That sounds a lot better than one point four,” she said.

“I’ll put together the paperwork and send over a staging plan tonight,” I told them.