Page 25 of Safer Alone
“I’m sure you guys work on a commission structure, so selling a property, even if it is listed by another agent, would be beneficial for you. Would it not?” I am surprised at his knowledge on the subject. Is he wondering what my commission will be on the property he just purchased? I can’t tell him that.
“Indeed, even though it is not my listing I will benefit financially from the sale of the property, if I find a buyer that is.”
It was my turn to ask him about his day. I hoped it wasn’t the same answer Dylan used to give me, a shrug of the shoulders…and once again there he was. Frustrated, I push him away with all my might, thinking “leave me alone.”
“So how was your day? Besides the travel of course?”
He shifts onto his other leg “It was okay, not as interesting as yours. A couple of conference calls and a few emails. I traveled on a plane to Nashville to pick up the keys to a new purchase…” taking a sip of wine, he pauses for a moment.
I can read by the expression on his face that he hasn’t finished speaking, so I keep quiet. Only a few seconds later he continues. “Do you know what I do for a living, Angela?” Would now be a good time to tell him I looked him up with the help of Google and read his profile on Wikipedia? And if so, do I also tell him I clicked on the link from his very first email, the one that showed me that he has a huge building in New York? Probably not wise. I don’t want to appear stalker-like. Besides, neither of those responses were correct for the current question. I decide to be coy and sarcastic instead.
“My best guess would be, you hire real estate agents to look over home renovation projects?” I shrug and raise my glass to my lips for another sip of wine. In response he rewards me with a full-blown, megawatt smile, showing most of his perfectly white teeth. The biggest smile I have seen so far and then he laughs. I can’t help but join in.
“You’re funny.” He points at me. “This is actually the first time I have hired anyone outside of my company to oversee a restoration.” He waits a moment to see if I will react to this new piece of information. I decide to ignore this and instead make a matter of fact statement.
“You’re a CEO of a business bearing your name. That I know from your emails,” I smile at him.
He nods, “Perceptive, aren’t you? I run my own business, Angela, I have been since I was eighteen. I knew from a young age that I loved older buildings, antiques, so I took that love and turned it into a business. Most of the time it’s a very profitable business. I purchase old buildings which have been neglected and give them back their old-world charm. Then, I sell them to the highest bidder. Unless, of course, I decide to keep them, which I have done in the past. I do the same with antiques, I sell them at my auction house. You may have purchased something from me? For instance, your Singer sewing machine you have over there. I had one that we sold about nine months back.” he was pointing at my grandmother’s sewing machine table.
I smile at the machine. “You’re out of luck. No money went to you for that baby. It’s been handed down for generations. It was my great-grandmother’s.”
The sewing machine in question is one that holds so many wonderful memories. Those days when I would sit beside my grandma, back when I was only a little girl, talking to her about the latest toy that I loved, all the while she would be hard at work sewing me a one-of-a-kind outfit, a dress or a skirt. I miss that woman, every day. I feel a tear spring to my eye. Elliot must have noticed it as he moves forward and raises his finger to my cheek, brushing it away. “Are you okay, Angela, recalling a special memory perhaps?”
I just look at him and nod. I allow myself to push my cheek into his hand a little, and I’m surprised and relieved that he doesn’t pull away. I don’t trust myself to speak just yet as I would more than likely have a cracked voice. I just need him to give me a minute, just one minute and I’ll be okay.
“Are you hungry? I wasn’t sure what you ate so I ordered a few things.” He drops his hand from my cheek and takes a hold of my hand, gently pulling me around to the bar stool sitting at the breakfast bar. He pulls it out and signals for me to sit down. This is my house and he is going to get everything ready? I think not.
“Thank you, but I won’t be sitting. I’m the one who knows where everything is located in the kitchen. Would you like a bowl or a plate? Maybe we will need both?”
He puts his forefinger to his lips for a second, seeming to pretend to consider his answer. “Definitely both.” He smiles as he starts to unpack the containers. These aren’t your everyday, usual plastic containers, the ones you usually get from the takeout shops around here. No, these were crockery plates and bowls with lids that clipped around the edges. I had no idea that Vinnie’s served their takeout this way, especially since we used to dine in when we felt like some delicious Italian. Maybe they do, for the right customer.
“Okay, so for the main course we have a margherita pizza, fettuccine carbonara, spaghetti marinara, Italian steak and fries, and a chicken parmigiana. Then if you’re still hungry, I grabbed some dessert that consists of a vanilla and raspberry panna cotta and vanilla cream cannoli.” Elliot went all out on this meal. So many different options, there is absolutely no chance that we are going to get through all of this tonight.
I will have to contribute some funds towards this banquet of sorts. My mouth starts to water, “Well we most definitely have a selection. Remind me to give you some money for this before you leave.” I collect the various containers and carry them to the dining table, along with placemats, plates, bowls and cutlery, placing the meals in the midpoint of the table and then setting our places, before returning to the kitchen to place the desserts in the fridge.
I return to the table and take the seat opposite Elliot. “I am guessing that you must be hungry?”
Looking up at me he smiles. “I had an early lunch. Ladies first,” he offers. I tip my head and smile. Reaching out, I select a piece of pizza to begin with, I notice that Elliot does the same. “So what do you think of my business?”
I chewed and swallowed a mouthful of delicious pizza that I was enjoying and answered with the first thing that popped into my head “In my opinion, it sounds like you’re following your dream. That’s a wonderful thing to do. Not many people get that opportunity in life. What’s that quote I’m thinking of? Do what you love and it never feels like work? That’s not quite it but you get the gist of what I mean.”
I take another mouthful to give me a moment and hope that he would speak again. Luckily for me he doesn’t disappoint, “I know what you mean. I do love what I do.” He reaches out and picks up the plate with the steak and fries. He cuts the steak in half and places one half on his plate along with a small number of fries and holds the plate out offering the other remaining amount to me,
“Yes please,” I answer to his wordless offer.
“So, what is your dream job? Or are you also living your dream of being a real estate agent?” His voice is laced with curiosity. How would I answer this without sounding like a sycophant?
“Although I do enjoy my career as a real estate agent, a great deal, actually, it’s not my dream job. I guess the closest career I could think of for my dream job would be very similar to your path,” I answer.
Elliot places his cutlery down beside his plate and clasps his hands together. The way he is holding his hands causes his shirt sleeves to pull up his arms slightly which give a view of his wrists, my eyes are drawn to his left wrist where I can see that he is wearing a simple gold antique watch with a leather band. This makes me smile.
Knowing that he is expecting more of an explanation I decide to give myself a moment to think, knowing that this would be beneficial. I lift my glass and take a small sip of wine, once I have placed it back on the table, I prepare to continue. “Let me explain,” I offer.
~ Chapter Twelve ~
“Please do, Angela.” He, too, was smiling. His tone completely absent of condescension. He reaches for his glass of wine and finishes the last few drops of the delicious wine. He excuses himself from the table and retrieves the remaining wine from the kitchen counter. Returning, his eyes lock with mine. “Would you like some more wine?” I nod, I’m going to need it to get through this explanation. What was I thinking telling him his job was my dream job? He will be expecting a full explanation now, I can’t very well say ‘never mind.’ Elliot fills first my glass, then his own. Once his task is completed, he returns to his recently vacated seat.
“Okay, so now to explain myself properly, I am not a sycophant, Elliot, I can promise you that. My dream job is discovering older homes, homes that come with a history all of their own, homes that have been abandoned or just been run down, not taken care of, so to speak. Once I have found a home that meets the criteria, I would then restore it, slowly, making sure it’s completed with period correct fixtures and features, with a couple of exceptions of course. I would ensure that certain important items including electrical and plumbing are updated to meet today’s building codes and regulations.”
