Page 14 of Taking a Chance on Charlevoix
“Sounds wonderful.” Marlowe took a seat at a glass topped table and Carmella disappeared back into the kitchen. As she sat there, a white egret landed among the ferns and began pecking around. This yard was certainly Florida at its best. The house probably wouldn’t be on the market for long.
Marlowe had been so excited when Carmella and Marco had chosen her from a field of five realtors. From the front porch to the pergola next to the pool, the house was a delight. The design echoed Florida’s past, which was very appealing to many buyers. The older couple had lived here during the winters for at least twenty years. In that time they'd redone the kitchen and the bathrooms, in addition to expanding their pool area. In the summer they retreated to a northern Chicago suburb.
Situated close to restaurants and shopping, the house checked all the boxes. Marlowe intended to encourage some competitive bidding. Looking over the upcoming months and her plans, she hoped to make the most of each sale. With the Donatello house, that would be easy.
“How is your new condo coming along?” Marlowe asked when Carmella returned with a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and glasses, plus some of her wonderful Snickerdoodle cookies. The smell of cinnamon teased Marlowe, reminding her of Aunt Cate’s Christmas cookies.
“Oh, so much work to do. That condo needs new kitchen cabinets, a bathroom with a shower where I can sit down. Every time I turn around, there is something else that needs my attention.” Carmella burst out laughing. “My Marco has his hands full. He complains every time I bring up another change. But I don’t take it seriously. We both want it to be perfect.”
Marlowe tamped down a smile. Marco knew Carmella better than anyone else. Thank goodness Marlowe had not been the realtor charged with finding them a condo. Carmella had once told her that they hadn't been happy with their original realtor. The poor man had shown them way too many properties that did not fill the bill. So they’d switched and Marlowe did not ask to be considered. They’d turned down some listings that seemed perfect. She was content to list this property for them.
“Did you ever consider buying something brand new?” Some exciting new developments were going up farther north. With new buildings the buyer could choose all the finishes. Carmella was the type who might enjoy that. Marlowe was thinking of her own condo which had been thoroughly updated. She hadn’t had to change much and really didn’t enjoy coping with construction crews.
But at Sunnycrest, that’s exactly what they would be doing. She tucked that thought away.
Filling their glasses, Carmella fluttered her other hand in the air. “You know how it goes. Nothing is perfect, including new construction. I don't like the finishes in our new place. You may not know this about me but I'm very picky about the counters and the type of granite they've used.”
Holding a serious expression had become difficult for Marlowe, so she bit down on her cookie. Anyone who misjudged Carmella had to be blind. The woman was probably the epitome of the spoiled wife, but Marco never complained.
Gesturing toward her kitchen countertops visible through the sliding glass doors, she continued. “Actually I prefer marble, but I don't want my kitchen to be too modern. No, it has to have some classic touches.” She was a woman of contradictions.
Carmella handed Marlowe a frosty glass. Birds twittered in the trees and she could smell the dampness of the ocean not too far away. Yes, whoever bought this house was going to enjoy this backyard. Sunnycrest had a small back door that led to a yard. They’d never done much with that space except play badminton.
Fanning the fingers of her left hand, Carmella frowned. “I need to book a manicure.”
Sometimes Carmella’s mind fluttered about like the birds. As her client described the trouble she was having finding a good nail salon, Marlowe let her mind wander. Although at first she’d thought Carmella and Marco were the perfect couple, the older woman might drive her crazy. Marlowe was counting on Marco to rein in his wife once the property sold. She didn’t want any last minute changes to the listing before closing.
But Carmella’s husband adored his wife. That had to be a great feeling. As Marlowe approached her fortieth birthday, she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find that kind of relationship. When had Sam and Kurt’s marriage changed? Had there been warning signs that her sister had missed? Her sister’sdivorce had stunned them all and today it still chattered in the back of her mind.
Usually she enjoyed working with older clients. Her Aunt Cate had prepared her for dealing with the senior population. But her aunt was very decisive. When she wanted to do something, the project moved along. Thank goodness her aunt intended to help facilitate the Charlevoix renovation. Marlowe had little patience with people who continually changed their minds. Sometimes she had no choice, and Carmella was a prime example, especially at this point of the selling cycle.
When Carmella took a breath, Marlowe guided her back to the open house. She suspected that Marco did not attend these meetings because he knew how they would go. He preferred to retreat to the golf course. Marco never contradicted his wife’s decisions and they seemed to adore each other. A perfect couple.
Over the past few years Marlowe had poured herself into her career. Meeting anyone in her age group hadn’t been easy because Naples was a retirement spot. Oh sure, there might be some elderly gentleman who would take her out for dinner and flatter her unmercifully. But she wasn't interested in that. She wanted the kind of mutual respect and devotion her parents had enjoyed. But back to business.
They were wrapping things up when Carmella said, “One more thing.” Marlowe held her breath.
“I don't want to sell to someone who's going to tear down my wonderful home.” Her voice clouded like a rainy day. Was Carmella about to cry? What could Marlowe do about this latest request? Yes, she knew just what Carmella meant. Buyers were not always honest about their intent. They could pretend to love a property and three months down the road, to the horror of the neighborhood, the bulldozers arrived.
“I hope so too. But I don't know how we can specify that or even know what people’s intentions are.”
“We have to ask them.” Her own cookie finished, Carmella tapped a finger on the glass top. “At our open house we have to get their plans for the future on the table.”
We?A red flag went up. “Carmella, you're not thinking of coming on Sunday, are you? We talked about that.” This open house had been scheduled before Marlowe left for Charlevoix. Although Carmella had mentioned coming, Marlowe quickly nixed that idea. Some viewers could be brutal about dated bathrooms and old kitchen cupboards. She did not want to hurt Carmella's feelings or prejudice her against prospective buyers.
“But it's my house.” Carmella’s lower lip trembled.
“Which you want to sell, right?” No way would Marlowe cave on this point.
“Yes, yes. As quickly as possible.” Dropping her head into one hand, Carmella rubbed her forehead. This was so difficult for her. “Marco doesn't want to own more properties. He says keeping everything up is too much for him.”
“I think he has the right idea.” Marlowe totally understood Carmella’s fears about the heartbreaking teardowns. She’d do what she could but a quick sale was the goal.
Finally the meeting came to an end. While she was saying good-bye, Marlowe’s phone vibrated in her handbag. By the time she reached her car, twenty messages were on her phone. Izzy had gotten back to Sam regarding a family phone call that night, so Sam was updating her. That sounded good and Marlowe was in good spirits as she continued with her afternoon calls.
The Donatello open house was in a week and thank goodness Shari had offered Trevor. Marlowe would email her list to him, along with some promotional suggestions. If he'd done work for Shari, he would probably have additional strategies. She wanted targeted ads on Google and Instagram. Trevor would know about all of that. His experience might be a bonus. With Jenna, Marlowe had led the way.
But she didn’t want to think about Jenna right now. Marlowe would handle that later when the pain of betrayal had eased.
