Page 12 of California Waves

She was wondering if it would be worth it to paper the area with flyers saying she had a buyer looking for the exact home he wanted. She rarely did that kind of thing, but there were times when it paid off. Herschel was a guy with money in the bank and a short time frame. He could be a gift to the right person who was thinking of selling their home but didn’t want the hassle of going through the whole process. She could show up with a buyer and streamline the sale.

She was still tapping her pen on her notepad when Dan Ferguson stormed into her office, looking less than pleased. Dan was one of the top Realtors in the county. He was a guy who spent way too much time either behind his desk or wining and dining his high-profile clients, and he had the portly belly and ruddy complexion to go with his lifestyle. Dan’s wife worried about his blood pressure, but as he’d said to Mila, he was a sales guy through and through. If a client phoned in the middle of dinner and wanted to buy a house, he’d leave his steak half chewed. If he had to show houses at six in the morning because somebody had a flight to catch, he’d get up at four thirty. Nine to five just didn’t work for him, and consequently his colleagues ended up following suit, trying to keep up with the number of deals he managed to close.

Mila saw through Dan’s bluster and knew that deep down he was exhausted, but Dan wasn’t open to changing his ways. He was an old dog, and there were no new tricks that could tempt him. As he liked to tell everybody, he’d put three kids through college, and on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, he’d bought his wife the engagement ring he would have loved to give her when they first got together. When Mila discovered it cost a quarter of a million dollars, she figured it probably gave Dan a bigger boost than it did his wife. No way would she want that amount of money sitting on her finger every day as she made coffee or washed the dishes.

Despite his insatiable chase for cash, Mila liked Dan. He’d taken her in when she’d had zero real estate knowledge and guided her through this cutthroat business, sharing his tricks of the trade. After she’d passed her exams, he’d offered her a place in his office and had mentored her generously, and so she knew that beneath that expensive suit was a kind and open heart.

When she saw Dan looking all kinds of wound up, she said, “Dan, calm down. Take a breath. What’s going on?” She gestured at a leather seat across from her desk.

But instead of taking a breath, he sucked air like a bull about to bellow. “I had it, Mila. I had it this close.” He held his thumb and index finger almost within touching distance and then snapped his fingers. “And suddenly, poof. It was gone.” He shook his head as if he were shaking water from his ears.

“What was gone?”

He looked dejected. “My deal. A house has just fallen out of contract. I was so sure it would go through. Now I’ve got to relist. I cannot tell you how hard I worked on this one—only for it to disappear.”

Mila believed he had worked hard on one listing in particular, so she tried not to get too excited. There were loads of houses that Dan was juggling on his books, any one of which could have fallen out of contract. But one of them was a house in Carmel Heights that she’d really liked. She said, “Which listing was it?”

He swiped his iPad on and showed her. Her heart began to pound. It was the very house she’d first thought of when Hersch had been listing his requirements. She’d seen it a while back, before Dan had found a buyer, and remembered wishing she’d had a client for it because she loved the home herself. It wasn’t grand, but it had been designed by a renowned local architect. Set away from town with plenty of land, it had five bedrooms instead of three—she was sure Hersch could live with that—and a sizable garage. It was a house full of understated quality.

Her gut said it was perfect for Hersch.

She glanced at her watch. She’d seen him about seventy-five minutes ago, but there was no time to waste. “Dan, I have a new client who might like that house. Could I show it to him today?”

Dan’s red cheeks faded to a color that made him look slightly less in danger of his blood reaching boiling point, and his eyes widened. “You serious?”

“I’m serious.”

Looking a little unconvinced, he scratched his graying head and said, “My clients really wanted a quick sale. I don’t want to waste time.”

Mila felt her lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. “What if I told you that you could give your clients exactly that? My guy is after a quick buy. Please, don’t relist it until tomorrow. Can you give me this afternoon?”

Dan still looked skeptical, but Mila could tell he was hoping she held the answers to his bind. He let out a breath and said, “I’m going to go home, open a beer, throw something on the barbecue, and spend an evening with my wife.”

She smiled at him. “And can I show my client that house?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. The sellers don’t live here, and I’ve got the key.”

With less than half an hour before she had to head back to teach surfing, she called Herschel. She found herself feeling a bit like a teenager again as she waited for him to pick up but tried to shake off the sensation—this call was purely professional. She was about to give up when Hersch finally answered, sounding a little out of breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I was just running.” She heard him come to a stop. “What’s up?”

Unable to hide her pleasure, she said, “I told you I work fast. I may have pulled off a miracle. I’d like to show you a couple of houses today. Are you available later this evening?”

He chuckled. “I’m living in a hotel room and don’t currently know anybody in town. You bet I’m available.”

Mila said she’d pick him up at his hotel after her class finished at five thirty. After they hung up, she quickly made appointments to see the other two houses that she didn’t think would be right for Hersch but would be good to show him as a prelude to The One. As a seasoned salesperson, she knew darn well that everybody wanted a choice. If she showed him only that one house, even though it might be perfect, he might be convinced there was a better one out there. The trick was to show him two or three that were okay but not great and then a winner, and he’d make a decision that day.

Of course, that only worked if she’d gotten it right, and the house was his perfect match. But she had a good feeling.

She put her real estate persona away with her heels and briefcase, snugged herself back into her wetsuit, and was off.

* * *

By three o’clock, Mila was back on the beach with the newbies. Saturday afternoons were some of the best hours of her week. She’d caught the teaching bug early in her career when she’d helped Damien, Erin, and their cousins—when they’d come into town—to surf when they were younger. She still loved helping children, and every once in a while, when a kid caught that first wave and she saw the pure joy blossom on their face, she wondered whether she was helping to create a champion, somebody who might one day become the surfing superstar she’d once been. And even if that never happened, even if she just gave that child a few blissful hours on the waves, maybe a little more confidence, maybe just some fun and belly laughs, then it was all worth it.

A preteen named Tabitha, who had been dropping by for a few weeks now, managed a short run. She had the biggest grin on her freckled face. When she jumped off her board, Mila paddled over to her, and the two of them high-fived.

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