Page 10 of Safer Alone
He has turned away from me when I come back from my thoughts into the present. He is looking at the rear of the property from the large picture window. Its purpose was to provide a view of the back of the home, out onto the landscaped garden, and inground pool area. We were standing in what was being defined as the family area on my floor plan of the home.
He places his crossed arms over his chest, the material of his suit jacket stretching just so to show the cuffs on his crisp white shirt. “The advertisement mentioned that it’s nearly two acres of land, isn’t it? I noticed the front yard was quite large as we drove along the driveway, however looking out this window I can see the backyard is even more expansive.” He spoke without looking away from the view out of the window.
I take this as my cue to jump in and answer his question “Yes, Mr. Sands. As I mentioned at the beginning of the tour, the Belle Meade Homestead sits on just shy of two acres. You have around half an acre out in front of the home and approximately an acre and a half at the back. If you would like to, we can take a walk, and have a look at the backyard?”
I don’t wait for an answer before walking across the room, into the kitchen where my folder is located on the granite countertop, plucking the house keys off the top. These would allow me to unlock the back door. I turn around and run right into him. With shock wracking through my mind, I drop the keys to the floor. Somehow, while I am getting the keys, he moves as quiet as a mouse and repositions himself just two steps behind me, facing into the kitchen. It happens so quickly, somehow, he has the time to put his arms up in front of his chest to protect himself from my collision and certain invasion of his personal space. After a second I bend down to pick up the keys which have landed just in front of my feet.
While looking at the timber floorboards, I apologize. “Mr. Sands, I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t know you had come up behind me. I hope I didn’t hurt you”.
“There is no need to apologize, Miss White. No harm was done. I’m quite sturdy on my feet. I would enjoy walking the grounds a little later, but for now, I’d like to look at the kitchen and possibly take one of those delicious looking muffins. Shall we, Miss White?” Maybe I was overthinking it, but to me, the tone of his voice had changed. Was he possibly flirting with me? The grin across his lips definitely tells me that he didn’t mind what had just happened, and that maybe he had done this on purpose.
Liam always tells me that I’m terrible at picking up these signs, but Elliot’s tone of voice had definitely changed, softened even. Could he really be flirting? No, surely not, I mean, looking at this man he could have his choice of anyone by just snapping his fingers, He isn’t about to start flirting with me, a plain Jane real estate agent, unless it was just a game to him. Well buddy, two can play that game, I think.
“Absolutely, feel free to take one, even two, I made them last night.” Maybe he will be impressed I baked them myself? Forget it Angie, it’s time to get back onto the reason we were here. It is time to sell the house.
“As you can see, the kitchen is almost entirely original. The pot belly stove sits in the original fire hearth, the cabinets are completely handcrafted; the ones you can see with glass inserts were added in by the current owners, along with the open shelving. The current owners did choose to update a few other items, including electrical connections for today’s appliances, and have also allowed for a dishwasher to be installed, just here.”
I walk over to the dishwasher space. Bending down, I point out the plumbing connection. He follows closely behind and bends down on his haunches. At this level you wouldn’t know there was a height difference between us. Here we were at the same eye level. I stand back up, almost losing my balance, recovering before he can notice. I then back out of the kitchen a couple of steps, providing him more room to have a good look around. He opens a couple of the bottom cabinets, runs his hands along the fronts of the glass, stopping occasionally to jot something down on his notepad. I desperately wanted to know what on earth it was that he was writing.
Once he has finished checking the entire kitchen, he stands back up with grace, something I’m not able to accomplish even on a good day, let alone today while wearing these wedges. He turns around to face me.
“That would be easy enough to cover over with cabinetry if I don’t want to install a dishwasher.”
I nod in agreement, “Absolutely, Mr. Sands, a dishwasher would look slightly out of place in this kitchen as is. However if a full remodel is completed, it would fit in nicely along with other new appliances, and you could always choose an integrated model.”
I pull the container with the muffins towards the edge of the kitchen counter. Unclipping the lid, I offer them to Elliot. “Will you join me, Mr. Sands, in a double chocolate chip muffin?”
Without hesitation, he speaks. “I believe I will. Thank you, Miss White.” He reaches out and takes one from the container, lifting it to his lips. His mouth opens wide and he takes a bite, while I continue with the small talk.
“I have been looking forward to these since this morning.” I pick up a muffin for myself. You can always trust me to ramble on when the other person is happy in silence.
“Shall we go have a look at the backyard?” Without giving him time to reply, I walk to the back, standing in front of the French doors that lead to the cottage’s garden and pool area, Placing my hands on both of the handles, I pull down, then push them open in unison. I stand to the side, wanting to give Elliot the chance to enter the garden first.
~ Chapter Five ~
Stepping out onto the back porch, I take in a full breath of fresh air. I feel it fill my lungs to full capacity, and then I slowly exhale, emptying the air once more. It feels heavenly. You really can’t beat the air once you’re out of the city limits. It even feels cleaner. The porch is a feature that was added by the current owners, providing an undercover entertaining area, a great place to sit while watching whoever was in the pool. I continue forward and step down from the porch onto the patio below. Looking down at where your feet meet the hard surface you notice that it has the same cobblestone floor as the front pathway leading to the front door. These stones here were laid a lot closer together, to allow for furniture to be placed on an even surface. Possibly a table and chairs, an outdoor setting; there is even room for a barbeque or an outdoor kitchen.
I turn, hoping to catch a glimpse of where Elliot’s attention is, and maybe read on his face what he is thinking. Instead I catch him looking at me, again. Unlike before, this time he looks as though he is trying to read my thoughts or see into my soul. Feeling a little self-conscious and uncomfortable, I decide to divert his attention elsewhere.
“As you can see, the back porch is quite generous already. However, there is plenty of room to set up an additional outdoor entertaining area here and it would be easy enough to erect a timber pergola in this space to utilize in less lovely weather.”
He nods in response, a grin beginning to show on his mouth. “Seems as though we have the same train of thought, Miss White, as I was thinking along those very same lines just now.”
I feel myself blush at the confirmation that one of my ideas was accepted by this man. Better yet, it was the same one he was having. Maybe we weren’t so different, except for the fact that he clearly was happy to spend $2.4 million dollars on this house. Whereas I haven’t even been tempted to purchase it. Even though I do love it, I won’t be cracking into my trust fund. Instead of just pulling out money when I needed it, I would just wait for my commission check to drop into my account. That way I can pay my mortgage, oh and get my hair done. That way, I know that I earned it all by myself, from hard work.
Needing to break eye contact, I contemplate my options, finally deciding that looking away from Elliot seemed safe. So I shift my gaze out to where an antique loveseat sat on the lawn under the shade of a massive maple tree, facing the inground pool. One corner was angled out just enough to grab the warmth of the sun, while the other would enjoy the shade. “Isn’t this loveseat gorgeous? It’s original to the home, having been here when the property sold for the first time. It’s another one-of-a-kind piece.” I knew that I was looking at it lovingly. Even though it was right at home here, I myself would love to place it on the small balcony at my apartment. But it would be a crime, a tragedy really. It deserves to be in a garden, where you could sit on it and enjoy a view, just as it was here.
I look up to see if he, too, was paying attention to this ornamental piece of furniture. Instead his eyes were on his hands. Following his line of sight, I notice that he was holding what was left of his muffin. He had almost finished the treat; maybe three or four bites were left. That had to be a sign that he was enjoying it.
When he finally speaks, it is not in reply to the comments I made on the loveseat. “Will you accompany me for a walk around the grounds, Miss White?” He looks at me momentarily and then turns away again, popping another piece of muffin in between his lips, chewing twice before looking back again to meet my eyes. What was a little walk going to hurt? I was the one who had suggested earlier that I could show him the gardens
“Sure, let me show you the fruit trees. There down this way, toward the rear of the property,” my hands signaling the direction.
We start to walk in blissful silence, the only sounds around us besides footsteps were the birds singing in the trees. “These are quite established gardens, overgrown though. My assistant mentioned you will have them trimmed prior to closing. Is that still the case?” This kind of question annoys me greatly; why wouldn’t it be the case when I had only said it yesterday? I know it shouldn’t worry me, but I hate having to go over things that have already been discussed. Hold on, pause a second, he was just talking about closing. Wasn’t he? I hope that means that he is swinging toward purchasing the property.
It is selfish of me to think this way, but that will mean more commission, extra money for me, some extra funds I could put away just in case. You know, for a rainy day, or if I had a dry spell. I can’t allow myself to think about getting paid right now. Instead I need to stay focused. It’s not a done deal yet, Angela. After all, it’s not sold until the contracts are signed and the deposit is paid.
“Yes, Mr. Sands, you are correct. The lawns will be mowed, and the gardens will be given a tidy-up prior to closing. Nothing overly drastic, though. This will only happen if you want the work to be done, of course. You may decide that you want to remove some of these plants and replace with other shrubs. Make the gardens a little easier maintenance. After all, not everyone has a green thumb.”
