The Sunday before Thanksgiving, Sheila gathered her things to set up for her last scheduled open house of the year. The Carrolton Estate was a stunning home in a sought-after neighborhood. Houses in this area didn’t come up for sale that often, and she’d sold this one to a newlywed couple just four years ago. Unfortunately, they’d already outgrown the house and were eager to find a new perfect place to call home.
She fussed with fresh flowers until they looked perfectly welcoming on the entry hall table. Luxury listings were what she was known for and, frankly, closing out the year with a commission of this size would be a wonderful way to wrap it up.
Humming Christmas carols as she arranged freshly baked cookies on a platter in the kitchen, she realized she was excited about her holiday plans in Chestnut Ridge.
Sheila was thankful for Natalie’s newfound happiness after the difficult path she’d traveled the last few years. First she’d lost her husband, Jeremy, and then, just as she was climbing out of the depths of grief, Marc Swindell popped into her life and conned her out of just about everything she owned. Then again, if that hadn’t happened, Natalie might not have met Randy. Who’s to say the right path to happiness is always a smooth one? Lord knows, I’ve had my rocky roads. Isn’t it time to bring on my joy yet?
Thank goodness Detective Randy Fellowes had been assigned to Natalie’s case when Swindell swindled Natalie. Not only for the justice that was finally served, but for the happiness Randy brought to her. A joy that Sheila hadn’t seen in Natalie’s eyes since Jeremy passed away.
We’ve both been through a lot over the past five years. I hope my happy days are ahead too.
She heard the front door open, and straightened, assuming her best friendly Realtor demeanor.
Not every visitor who came to an open house was a prospective buyer; she’d learned that a long time ago. But as she gave this couple the once-over, she saw that they had interested buyers written all over them.
“Welcome. Thanks for coming out today.” The opulent Richmond house would draw a lot of people, even on the busiest travel weekend of the year. There’d be lookie-loos, but she was certain she’d get at least one good offer today. It was just too special a property for the right buyer to pass up.
Sheila handed the couple a glossy booklet with all the details about the house. “Make yourselves at home. It just might be your next one. I’ll let you mill around.”
The husband looked impressed with the pricey marketing material. It was one of her secret weapons. These high-end properties deserved the extra touch, since the commissions were extra big.
The woman peered over her husband’s shoulder. “I’ve got to see that kitchen.”
Sheila had staged special pictures, opting to use different ones from the online listings, for the fancy booklet. Photos staged specifically for this showing, with an eye to the demographic right down to the artwork inserted into the picture frames. Photoshop was one incredible invention. Not that she knew how to use it, but she was smart enough to hire a whiz kid who did.
“Look, hon!” The woman’s blue eyes danced as she looked up from the brochure, and then she turned to Sheila. “I’ve always wanted a fancy spa bathroom.”
“Me too. It’s a beauty. When you walk in, the relaxation will practically lift you off your feet. Feel free to enjoy the champagne and strawberries.” Sheila had set them up in a shiny silver ice bucket and crystal flutes. Who could resist that?
“I can’t wait,” the woman gushed, and she hooked her arm through her husband’s, practically dragging him down the hall. “This way, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’d start in the kitchen. Don’t miss the pantry. It’s definitely a chef-quality space.”
The husband’s eyebrows cocked in appreciation.
“And there’s an outdoor kitchen too.” Sheila knew how to pick up on the subtleties of body language to pitch the right perks.
A family came in right behind them with an adorable little girl with blond ringlets and wearing a powder-blue dress that matched her twinkling eyes.
“Welcome.” She offered a children’s version of the pamphlet to their daughter. One with a picture of a kitten on the ottoman and a puppy in the backyard. The little girl had adorable Shirley Temple dimples when she smiled.
“There are some fresh-baked cookies on the kitchen counter,” Sheila whispered to the parents as they accepted the brochure.
“We’ve been waiting for something in this neighborhood to come up for so long,” the woman said. “It’s honestly a stretch on our budget, but we couldn’t resist checking it out.”
Sheila dove in. “Well, interest rates are low right now. There are so many advantages. Walking distance to the academy, which makes this a highly sought-after neighborhood for families with school-age children.” Sheila noticed the way the wife shot a glance to her husband. That was clearly something they’d discussed before. “It’s a lot of house for the price point. Take a look around. The HOA is lower than other similar neighborhoods, which is a real plus because it keeps those monthly additional expenses down, and this house has one of the highest efficiency ratings I’ve seen,” Sheila added.
“That is helpful,” her husband said.
“I’ll answer any questions you might have,” Sheila said. “My card is in the booklet, and I have a wonderful team that can help you navigate any challenges. Home buying requires looking at the long term, especially when you’re raising children. We’re familiar with this area. We’re here to help you with this house, or find the perfect one in your price range.”
“Thank you so much.”
For a moment, Sheila’s mind wandered as she watched the little girl tug at her mom’s hand toward the kitchen.
She’d always thought she’d have children by now, but she and Dan had never been blessed that way. No matter how many times Dan swore it wasn’t the reason for their separation, the fact that he was married less than a year after their divorce to a new wife who was already pregnant left her aching.
She took comfort in helping families find the perfect home to raise their children. That would have to be enough.
She could so easily picture herself walking her children to school on pretty days. She’d cut back on the hours she worked in a heartbeat for something like that. If I had a daughter, I’d have snatched this house right up.
People came in a steady flow, giving her plenty of time to talk with each of them. It was really a perfect open house.
During a lull of activity, she checked her emails. Natalie had sent the details on the Christmas Tree Stroll. A photograph taken from above showed how many trees there were, and she couldn’t begin to count them.
Sheila recognized Orene in one of the pictures. Smiling broadly, she was standing with a woman holding a sign that read DUCK THE HALLS WITH A CHRISTMAS SONG THEME. Their team had decorated their long-needled pine with colorful decoys wearing festive wreaths, and a garland of shiny red and green shotgun casings and colorful feathers. A handwritten note below the picture said, “‘Deck the Halls’ performed on quacking duck calls played from the tree skirt.” Sheila had to admit that was innovative.
She scrolled to the entry form. Each team could have up to eight people on it. All decorating would be done on a tree of preselected type and size. There were lighting requirements, which also included a “no open flames” clause. That sounds like a rule that must’ve come from a prior incident.
Each entry should include a sign no larger than twenty by twenty inches with a name that helped describe the theme of the entry.
TREES WILL BE JUDGED ON [A] UNIQUE DESIGN AND CREATIVE USE OF LIGHTS AND DECORATIONS; [B] STORYLINE OR THEME; [C] DISPLAY AND PLACEMENT OF DECORATIONS; AND [D] OVERALL PRESENTATION.
Sheila went back to the email, to which Natalie had attached about ten pictures. Each tree was more unique than the last. We’re going to have our work cut out to come up with something better than these.
“Excuse me?”
Sheila looked up, surprised she hadn’t heard the customers walk through the living room on the walnut hardwood floors. It was the first couple she’d greeted, at the very beginning of the open house. They’d left earlier; that they’d come back was a good sign.
Sheila stuffed her phone into her pocket. “What do you think?”
“This house is perfect,” the wife said. “You’re right about that master suite. It’s amazing. And that tub. Oh my gosh.”
Sheila had draped the thirsty white robe she’d treated herself to on her last visit to the Greenbrier over the freestanding, fully jetted tub.
The champagne and fresh berries and a copy of The Shell Collector positioned just so on a table with turquoise and real gold in the acrylic overlay couldn’t go unnoticed.
“Buy the house, and I’ll throw in the champagne bucket and robe,” Sheila teased.
“We’ll hold you to that!” the woman said. “Where did you find that table? It’s stunning.”
“A local craftsman makes those. I can give you his information.” She owned three of them. This one, another with sapphire-like gems and silver inlays, and one with tiny pine cones floating in acrylic in a wide knot right in the middle. They didn’t go with anything in her house, but she hadn’t been able to resist them. Now they’d found their place in her open-house arsenal of tricks, and she was pretty sure she was keeping that guy busy with all the cards she handed out.
Sheila tried to resist celebrating before the deal was done. “Any questions I can answer for you before I close up shop here?”
The husband and wife looked at each other, and then he spoke up. “We’d like to make an offer.”
“Wonderful.” And there it was. What a way to end the year. “We can do the paperwork here, or meet at my office.”
“We’re ready to work it up now.”
“Just let me take down the Open House sign, and we’ll get this taken care of.” Sheila jogged out to get the sign and balloons and tucked them in the back seat of her Mercedes. It only took a moment, and she was back, locking the door behind her. “Okay, this is so exciting. It’s a magnificent home.”
Three hours later, she’d presented the sellers with the offer and they were tickled pink, and since the buyers had a prequalification letter, there wasn’t much worry that things wouldn’t go smoothly. She called to congratulate the couple and discuss the next steps.
It had been a long day with the open house and the deal, but well worth it.
She unlocked the door to her house and walked inside, kicking off her shoes and hanging her purse on the coat tree. After a quick shower, she pulled out a mason jar of salad from her refrigerator, added a few cooked shrimp, and sat in front of the television to eat dinner with a glass of chardonnay.
In a couple of weeks, she’d be in Chestnut Ridge. This would be one of the last quiet evenings she’d have until the new year, since she’d moved the holiday party for the office to next week. That would keep her busy.
She picked up her phone and started typing in a list of things to pack. A gift for Orene. Two probably. A thank-you for letting her stay and a Christmas gift. She’d seen the cutest teapot in an antique store a few weeks ago while she was looking for a new punch bowl for the open house. She’d immediately thought of Orene then. Too bad she hadn’t made the purchase. She hoped it was still there.
I’ll stop by there tomorrow.
Her phone rang and wasn’t that perfect timing. Orene’s name displayed on the screen.
“Hello, Orene. I was just thinking about you.”
“Wonderful, because I have your room ready for you. I’m so delighted you’re going to come join us for the Christmas Tree Stroll this year.”
“It sounds like fun.”
“Oh, it is. You’ll never want to spend the holidays anywhere else,” Orene said. “Now, I had a couple of questions for you. What’s your favorite Christmas cookie?”
“I haven’t met a cookie I didn’t like, but if I had to pick a favorite, I’d say gingerbread. The thin crispy ones.”
“Perfect! I just so happen to make the best gingerbread around,” Orene bragged. “And what’s your favorite color?”
“That’s easy. Red.”
“Excellent, dear. I can’t wait to see you. It’ll be a little chaotic the first night with the Holiday Warmup in full swing, but I promise you a quiet stay the rest of the holiday. I hope you plan to relax while you’re here.”
“I do. I’ve got all my work covered here. I even ordered a couple of new Christmas novels to read. It’s going to be all Christmas, all the time, while I’m in Chestnut Ridge.”
“As it should be,” quipped Orene. “I can’t wait for you to arrive.”
“Thank you so much for letting me stay with you. I’ll see you soon.” Sheila hung up the phone, feeling like she’d just received a warm hug. It had been too long since she’d had one of those.