Lost Along the Way(81)
They arrived at a fixer-upper north of the highway, away from the beach but close to the docks, embedded in lush woods heavily populated with deer. Not the greatest location if you were someone who hoped to have a garden, as the deer would eat just about anything, but otherwise, Cara thought it had a lot of potential. There was a rusted old flagpole in the front yard, and dead plants and bushes lined the broken slate slabs that made a walk from the driveway to the front door. It had absolutely zero curb appeal, but someone with vision and a little creativity could change all of that. Meg was one of those people, she thought, and Cara admired her, and Steve, for undertaking the task of redoing their home instead of looking for one that was move-in ready. Loving anything should require some work. Some things more than others, but still.
Mrs. Stillman couldn’t get past the fact that there was carpet (who would put carpet in a beach house?), or the fact that the kitchen cabinets were gray (admittedly a strange color for a house by the beach, but how hard was it to paint them?). They didn’t like that the house didn’t have a pool, despite the fact that Nick had told them over and over that a house with a pool in Montauk was out of their budget. Cara found herself growing impatient just listening to them bitch and moan about all the things the house didn’t have, but Nick never did what Cara was fighting the urge to do: remind them that unless they had a million dollars to spend, they weren’t going to get million-dollar amenities, chief among them Jacuzzi tubs, acres of land, a heated pool, and top-of-the-line appliances. Nick just encouraged them to see what the house could be if they did a little work on it, and when the couple made it clear that they had no intention of lifting a finger to do anything other than stock the shelves with groceries, he encouraged them to keep an open mind.
“Why aren’t we looking at any homes near the beach? I don’t know that I want to sit in traffic to get here and then not be able to walk to the beach,” Mrs. Stillman griped from the backseat on the way to the next house.
“The inventory of homes for sale near the beach is very low. They don’t turn over very often, and when they do, to be frank, they tend to be priced significantly higher than what you’re willing to spend.”
“That’s absurd. Our budget is high enough that we should be able to find something,” Mrs. Stillman insisted, as if she knew more than Nick.
An hour later, Cara’s patience was worn out. They’d seen house after house and nothing had pleased Mrs. Stillman. Her husband had said about ten words since they had left on this expedition—he was not the one wearing the pants in the relationship. “May I make an observation?” Cara asked, knowing that she was probably overstepping her bounds as a fake Montauk real estate agent in training, but she didn’t care. It was either try to find a way to shut this woman up, or push her out of the car into oncoming traffic.
“Sure,” Nick said, eyeing her curiously from the driver’s seat.
“The problem with houses near the beach, aside from the fact that your insurance will be astronomical, especially after the storms that have plowed through here recently, is that there’s very little room for price appreciation.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” Mrs. Stillman admitted, which pleased Cara. Until now, she’d seemed to have an answer for everything.
“Homes in that area are already overpriced. The supply simply doesn’t meet the incessant demand for beachfront properties. Even if you did buy a home down there, it won’t increase in value. Now, in some of these other sections, near the woods or back in the hills, for example, a lot of homes are still undervalued as the market out here continues to recover from the recession. There are some great bargains that you can get and in a few years should increase tremendously in value. At that point, if you want to take your money out and maybe look to move down by the beach, you’ll be able to. From an investment standpoint you really should be considering some of these properties. There are real finds in there that will make you a lot of money over time.”
“That’s a very good point,” Nick said, clearly impressed with Cara’s sales pitch. Truth be told, so was she.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Mr. Stillman said, finding his voice for the first time since he’d gotten in the car. “I’d rather buy something that can make us some money in a few years. Maybe we should reconsider some of the houses we saw.”
“The one in the woods was charming. But the kitchen wasn’t updated,” Mrs. Stillman pointed out.
“You don’t cook,” her husband said.
“Maybe I would if I had a nice kitchen.”
“Does the oven work?” he asked.
“Yes. Everything is fully functional. Do you want to go back and look at it again?” Nick asked.
A silent nod from both parties in the backseat was all Nick needed to turn left and head back to the cottage nestled deep in the woods.
After they had spent another twenty minutes roaming around the house, Cara decided to further test her powers of persuasion by being a bit more aggressive with her sales pitch. The fact that she didn’t work for Nick’s firm and had no business pretending she did didn’t bother her at all. It felt good for her to regain some confidence in her work. Being self-assured was never something she could manage to do at home, not at her job and not in her marriage, but out here, now, it seemed to come effortlessly. It was as if the salt air had taken over her brain, making her do and say things she had never had the nerve to before. She kind of really liked it.