The woman’s eyes go wide as she turns to look at her husband. “You love to grill out, Herbie. That would be so nice to have right out the back door.”
I smile. “It would be perfect. The sun is blocked by the trees on that side so you wouldn’t have to melt out here in the summer.”
“I love it.” The woman sticks her perfectly manicured hand my way. “I’m Janet. It’s nice to meet you.”
“My name is Bellamy. It’s nice to meet you too.”
She smiles at me as though we’re old friends. “I love your ideas. They really make this estate feel more like home.”
“You know what I’d really love to do out here?” I ask.
“Tell me.”
“I’d put in an enclosed porch,” I tell her. “I’d extend it the length of the house and use lots of windows that I could open in the spring and fall and really enjoy the weather without the mosquitos.”
Janet clutches the strand of pearls around her neck. “I’m loving this. We could put your books out here, Herbie. You could write out here.”
“But you’d have to put in a fireplace. You’d have to,” I tell them.
Janet and Herbie exchange a look before she turns back to me.
“Do you work for the realty company, Bellamy?” she asks.
“No,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I’m just here with my friend. I totally just butted into your conversation. I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“What? Oh, no. I’m so glad you did.” She spins around and takes in another full-circle view of the backyard. When she stops, she’s facing me. “Did you see the kitchen? What would you do in there?”
I think about the layout that I saw through the windows.
“I’d totally do a fancy range of some kind because it’s really the focal point of the space,” I tell her. “And I’d keep as much of the original woodwork as I could. It’s just so beautiful. You can’t get that quality anymore.”
Who am I? What do I know about the quality of woodwork?
I ignore myself and keep marching forward.
“If I could get recessed lighting, I would. And I’d love a big farmhouse sink,” I add. “They’re deep and would be handy when the grandkids come over.”
I don’t know where that came from or even if these people have grandkids. It just slipped out like the most natural thing in the world, so I roll with it.
“You know, we could use your mother’s antique range in there,” Janet tells Herbie. “It’s been in storage for so long, and it’s such a shame.”
Herbie looks over his shoulder toward the kitchen windows. “That would be a nice tribute.”
Janet and her husband pause, looking at each other. Connie starts to panic and jumps into the mix.
“I love these ideas, Bellamy,” she coos. “Do you have any for the upstairs?”
I haven’t seen the upstairs, so no. But, instead of saying that, I play along for the house’s sake.
“A house like this needs a feature wall—something moody and earthy as soon as you get to the top of the stairs,” I say, using a home makeover episode I saw once. “And lots of plants so the outside feels like it’s inside.”
Janet nods. “I love that. I can see it. I can feel it.”
Herbie crosses his arms over his chest. “Want to make an offer, Janet?”
“Could we?”
Connie springs to life. “I’m so, so glad you agree with me that this place is the perfect retirement home. Let’s head to that kitchen and get the offer going.”
Herbie wraps an arm around his wife, and they disappear inside the back door. Connie waits until they’re out of earshot before she leans toward me.
“You are good,” she says, nodding appreciatively. “Are you a realtor?”
“Me?” I laugh. “No. I literally know nothing about any of this. I just watch House Hunters.”
She laughs too. “I think you’ve missed your calling then. If you ever want to go into this business, you call me. Girl, you’re gold.”
I nod like I hear that sort of thing all the time. She flashes me a megawatt smile worth seven-percent commission before heading inside to finish wooing her clients.
“Did she just say you’re gold?” Larissa walks up to me and tries not to laugh. “I’ve officially heard it all.”
“I knew I liked Connie from the moment we met her.” I make a face. “But I do wonder about her realty skills. How hard would it be to sell a house like this? You’d think you’d have a line of buyers begging for it.”
Larissa shoves her notepad and pencil into her crossbody bag. Then she sighs. As she looks up, she says, “This place is really something, isn’t it?”
“I think I fell in love with it today.”
“I get it. It’s the kind of house I dream about. I don’t think Hollis is this type of house guy, though.”