Newbie (33 page)

On Friday after work, I rush home and quickly change into a power suit with high heels and a short skirt. Kevin rings the bell as I finish brushing my teeth.

The home is in an area outside of Larkspur developed as gentleman estates of ten to fifteen acres per lot. Glimpses of the landscaping and lights peek between the tall hedges lining the street as we enter the stamped concrete drive. As we approach the house, I’m sure my jaw drops—rockin’ curb appeal! The concrete drive gives way to cobbles as it makes a graceful turn along the front of the home and ends near the other side of the house at a connected garage.

Three chimneys dot the shake-shingled roofline. Stone pillars separate the wings into three sections and define the front door. Each section is characterized by a pitched roof between the pillars. All the lights are on, and a soft yellow glow backlights the exterior trees and landscaping. I sigh. “Great staging.”

After we park in a spot near the garages, Kevin gets out and asks, “Could you grab the listing packet out of the glove box?”

I fumble a bit finding the handle and opening it, but I can’t see a listing packet. “It’s not here,” I say as Kevin opens my door.

He shrugs. “I can help the sellers finish up paperwork another time. We can lay the groundwork tonight, but let’s take it easy. Let them bring it up, okay?” He extends his hand and helps me from his SUV. “We don’t want to appear too eager.”

I guess it would be a little touchy to be in jeopardy of losing such a beautiful home, most likely their dream home. We’ll have to take this sales pitch slower than we usually do, since this is also a friend of Kevin’s.

“Oh, and Landen called back to ask us to stay for dinner. Will that work for you?” I nod as Kevin touches the doorbell and the speaker above our head plays “Glamorous” by Fergie. I dance along until Mr. and Mrs. Garrett invite us in.

“It’s my wife’s month to choose the doorbell song.” He smiles sheepishly toward Kevin.

Kevin moves behind me, lightly placing his hand on my back as we walk through the threshold. He pulls my coat from my shoulders, and I check out the stunning foyer. The floor is the creamy white of natural sugar maple, and the walls are just a shade darker with a bit of gold undertone. An octagon in the floor design begins directly below a chandelier in the center of the round-ish room. Then the wood floor radiates out from the octagon through the adjacent hallways and rooms, carrying through to the walls, which are a complementary color but have green and peach undertones. To the left is an office—no, a den with mahogany bookcases and furniture. We are led to the sitting room on the right where Kevin introduces me to Landen before we sit on the loveseat.

“Your home is striking. As soon as we turned off the road, the exterior lighting drew our attention. It’s a view to fall in love with. And the windows along the front of both wings are amazing too.” My hand rests on the base of my neck as I come up for air. Landen is smiling and Chella joins him on the sofa across from us. “What gave you the idea for the radiant pattern for the floor in the foyer?”

Chella smiles and glances at Landen and answers. “Our honeymoon, actually. It was designed to remind us of the sun, and the color of the wood is like the beach. I don’t go a day without thinking back on starting our life together.”

My heart breaks for her a bit, thinking how she’ll leave that behind when they lose their home if it doesn’t sell in time. Either way, she’ll have to leave it.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Well …” I look at Kevin, not wanting to rush this, but he just smiles. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Chella leads me through each room, pointing out her favorite features. This is why sellers shouldn’t show their own home—they define each space with a story, making the home reflective of their lives, leaving no room for the buyers to imagine themselves as the homeowners. But I’m not a buyer, so I follow her from room to room, listening to her stories and taking note of the unique features. Landen and Kevin traipse behind us, mentioning the house occasionally, but doing more catching up on each other’s jobs and lives.

Several of the rooms have focal points that will be candy to the camera. The virtual tour of this home will definitely draw many potential buyers—the floor-to-ceiling river-rock fireplace in the family room, the distressed-metal apron sink in the kitchen, the glass shower and steam room in the master bath, the outdoor kitchen on the large deck and the motocross-style trails carved into the field and mountain behind the backyard for playing on four-wheelers are all big draws.

We end the tour back in the kitchen. “I think everything is ready. Shall we eat?” Chella asks.

“Can I help you with something?” I offer and walk further into the kitchen. “I’ll just leave this here, if you’d like to contact me later,” I say and drop a business card on the counter by the phone.

“Sure. You can help me get it all to the table.” Chella pulls out a salad bowl and a boat of dressing for me to carry. “Can you get this too?” she asks, holding a tray of bread, which she balances on top of the salad. “You and Kevin seem to be well matched.”

“I think so. We definitely have different talents and strengths. That’s been good for us. He works the days, and I work the nights.”

“That seems like a difficult schedule? When do you see each other?”

“It’s not hard at all. We get together every Saturday morning at nine for an hour or two. We keep it in our calendars—a standing appointment every week. That’s all it takes.”

Chella has a surprised look on her face that she quickly morphs into a smile. “Well, you’re lucky to have each other.”

“Oh. I know. Our partnership works out much better than most I’ve seen.”

Chella follows me out of the kitchen, carrying a dish of manicotti. Although there’s some conversation during dinner, the pasta is definitely grabbing everyone’s attention.

“This is wonderful. Is it terribly hard to make?” I ask.

“No. Easy,” Chella replies. “I’ll give you the recipe before you leave.”

“I wouldn’t know how to use half the machines I saw in your kitchen. It may be easy for you, but for me? Hmm.” I shake my head a bit.

“You would do fine,” Kevin offers, patting my arm.

His vote of confidence is kind but misplaced. “You have no idea what a disaster I can wreak in a kitchen,” I reply.

“You’ve never cooked together?” Chella asks.

We’ve never even been in a kitchen at the same time before the tour tonight. “No. We always go out to eat,” I answer. “It’s more productive for us.”

Chella gives another sideways glance to Landen, who shrugs in response.

“How long have you lived here?” I ask her.

“Two years. But I also worked on the design for it for two—a year on the structure and a year on the interior décor. Then it took almost a year to build, so it’s been part of my life for almost five years.”

And now you’re going to lose it.
“Does that make you sad now?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I realize how rude they could sound. “Sorry—it’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay. It was hard waiting and even frustrating sometimes, but when I look at the result, I have no regrets at all.”

Great attitude. She looks like she really means it. “One of the real selling points for your home is this great view,” I say, pointing to the long windows beside the table.

Kevin quickly sets his glass down, nicking the side of the plate loudly, staring at me.

“The windows along the west wall light up red and orange with the sunset in the fall. The changing colors of the aspens, with green and gold, deepens the beauty. We get the sunset from all the seasons, but the position of the sun in the fall makes the window a perfect frame for it,” Chella explains.

“What would you think is the best selling point for your home? Do you have a favorite feature?” I ask.

“Probably the outdoor kitchen …” Landen interjects.

Kevin leans forward across his plate. “Have you been following the Nuggets this season?”

“No,” Landen says, then turns back to me. “We use the deck and the outdoor kitchen almost every day during the summer.”

“The four-wheeler track is a lot of fun, too—a great way to unwind,” Chella counters.

“Someone else might not enjoy it as much as you do. Me—I’m a little dangerous on toys. But there’s plenty of room back there to do whatever someone would want to do.”

Kevin launches again. “Allen Iverson’s been hot, scoring twenty or thirty points a game. Good trade.” This time, no one responds to his comment.

Kevin looks nervous, but I’m not pushing. He doesn’t need to worry. They both seem excited to talk about their home and the sale. I mouth, “stop it” toward Kevin when the Garretts aren’t looking.

“That’s another part I like. There’s so much room. It’s private, but close to the city and still in a neighborhood,” Chella explains.

“Very strategic. Good. We’ll start there. When are you planning to move?” I ask as Kevin’s chair pushes back and stands, tipping over his chair.

He stoops to pick it up and says, “Sophie, may I speak to you for a moment?” It’s not a question, and he’s heading toward the door at a clipping pace. He faces Landen. “We’ll be right back.”

We step out, and he closes the door behind me. “Sophie, um … the thing is …” His gaze moves from the welcome mat down the curve of the driveway. “The thing is, they aren’t selling.”

I look at him curiously. “Did they change their minds? Because they need to understand how a short sale can save them from a foreclosure or even a deed in lieu. Both of those will hurt their credit longer. It might be in their best interest to reconsider.”

“No, you don’t understand.” He shakes his head and gives me a pleading look. “I lied.”

Lied? “And by that you mean …?” I gesture for him to continue.

“I mean I lied … so you would go out with me. This is a social visit, not a listing appointment.”

I’m stunned. Lied. He’s still talking—something including “interested,” “chance,” and “understand.” I think back over the evening, wondering how many stupid remarks I made under the wrong pretext. “Oh.” I shove my hands into the pockets in my jacket. “I see. Give me a minute. You can go back in, and I’ll come in when I’ve composed myself a little more.”

“I can wait.”

“No. You will go in. Now.”

Kevin turns back to the front door. As his hand reaches the knob, he looks back and begins, “Sophie, I …”

“No. Now. I have to think.” I turn my face away. The door clicks behind me and I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit speed dial. “Hi …”

When I re-enter the dining room, all eyes turn to look at me. “Sorry,” I mumble as I tuck into the chair. My face feels hot. I have no idea what more to say, or what excuse Kevin gave for my rogue comments or our little therapy session on the porch.

“Kevin said you didn’t find any Tylenol in your purse in the car. Can I get some for you?” Chella asks with concern.

“No, thanks. I’ll take care of it when I get home, and it’s really not a big deal. I feel fine now. But I have to ask . . .” Kevin was concentrating on his dinner plate, but now looks up at me through his eyelashes. “. . . did you make the breadsticks, too? I thought maybe they were purchased, but I noticed the Bosch on the counter.”

Chella blushes. “Yes, I made them. I love to cook.”

“It’s your dream kitchen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Landen calls it my playground. The year I spent on interior design and décor was mostly on the kitchen.”

“Your attention to detail has really paid off. Thanks for the tour.”

The conversation then turns to everyone’s work and hobbies, and we get to know each other better. Kevin is much more relaxed. I’m sure he’s relieved he got that off his chest.

“Is everyone ready for dessert?” Chella asks, returning from the kitchen with four white ceramic mugs piled with swirling whipped cream and sprinkled with curly shavings of dark chocolate. “Pots de crème,” she says, placing a mug in front of me.

My spoon sinks through the whipped cream and scoops out the rich chocolate below, pulling it back up through the cream. “Mmm. This is wonderful,” I sigh. You know, it is true—chocolate really does pair perfectly with any mood. A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. “That’s probably for me.”

The Garretts look surprised, but Kevin looks positively floored. Good! “You don’t need to get up. I’ll get my own coat. I have loved meeting you both, even though it was under false pretenses. Kevin told me this was a listing appointment. He lied so I would go out with him. He’s my real estate partner.
Is?
Well, was.” Everyone comes to their feet and follows me to the door anyway. My heart is jumping from my chest, and I restrain each step not to run through the foyer. I pull my coat across my arm and walk outside.

“Liam, this is Landen and Chella.” Turning to my hosts, I continue, “This is my boyfriend, Liam.”

Liam nods, though his face looks fierce. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” I answer, then say to Chella, “I wish we’d met another way. I’ve enjoyed your company and your home. Good night.”

Now it’s Kevin’s turn to look stunned and truly embarrassed. He steps across the threshold as Liam and I begin to turn away.