The Homewreckers(125)
“Me neither,” Hattie said, opening the door to allow the real estate agent to step inside.
“We put the paper down so the movers don’t mess up the floors we just refinished.”
“Good,” Carolyn said. “All original hardwoods, up and down?”
“Yes,” Hattie said.
“Was that the furniture in the moving van that just pulled up?”
“I certainly hope so. Trae, our designer, has been having a fit because the network moved up our deadline by a week. He’s not sure all the furniture he ordered will be in on time.”
The agent frowned. “It’s going to show much better with furniture, so maybe we wait to have the house shot until you’ve got it styled and staged.”
* * *
“Well, it’s just stunning,” Carolyn said, when the tour was over. They were standing in the kitchen, which, Hattie would never admit out loud, had undergone the biggest transformation. “You’ve done a magnificent job here. It’s crisp, it’s classic, it’s the house equivalent of a good white dress shirt that will never go out of style. This kitchen is the chef’s kiss. I mean, that floor is to die for.”
“Trae’s idea and Trae’s handiwork,” Hattie said. “So, bottom line, what do you think we can list it for?”
Carolyn pulled a large folder from her handbag, and withdrew a computer printout. “Here are the comps I pulled. Lucky for you, there’s not that much competition for a waterfront house on the island right now. Liz Demos’s house is a couple months away from completion still, but it got listed for $1.2 million, and she’s already accepted an offer.”
Hattie’s eyes widened. “And that house doesn’t even have a dock like ours. The dock house will be done today, and then it’s really going to be spectacular.”
Carolyn sighed and pointed out the window. “Liz’s house also doesn’t have a body that was buried in the backyard. I’m not going to soft-soap it, Hattie. This thing with Lanier Ragan has gotten a ton of publicity, and I’m afraid it’s going to scare off a lot of potential buyers. People don’t like the idea of having a crypt on their property.”
“I get it,” Hattie said. She’d been anticipating something like this, but hearing her real estate agent say it, out loud, was a gut punch. “But this is a much bigger lot. And the house…”
“Is one of a kind. You’ve done an amazing job with it, as always. I just want you to be prepared for buyer reluctance. Under other circumstances, I’m confident that the house would easily appraise at $1.4 million.”
“But at this time?”
Carolyn fiddled with the thin gold necklace dangling in her cleavage. “I think we get aggressive and list it at $890,000, but be prepared to negotiate down.”
“Okay,” Hattie said, her shoulders sagging.
“Didn’t someone tell me you got it for a steal after the city condemned it? Even at that price, you’re going to make a nice profit.”
“We did get it for a great price, but we’ve poured so much time and money and effort into it. I’ve got loans to pay back, and the bills are piling up.…”
“But you won’t be losing money, right? Who knows, maybe my instincts are all wrong. With all the attention your show is getting, people are definitely fascinated by this place and the story behind it. Maybe after we get it styled and the listing photos go live online, we’ll get in a bidding war. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“Right.” Hattie swallowed hard. “Let’s price it at eight-ninety, then.”
Carolyn beamed. “I’ve got all the listing documents in my car. I know you’re on a tight deadline. Why don’t you fill them out and then drop them by my office? And let me know as soon as we can get the photographer in here.”
The kitchen door was flung open and Trae stepped inside, followed by two men, each carrying plastic-wrapped bundles. “Coming through,” he called. He stopped for a moment and shot the blond Realtor his most beguiling smile. “Hi, there.”
Trae’s smile was really his most potent weapon. His teeth were so straight and dazzlingly white. Hattie was still self-conscious about her own slightly crooked teeth. She’d been scheduled to get braces as a teenager, but then her father went to prison.…
“Trae, this is Carolyn Meyers, my real estate agent. Carolyn, this is Trae Bartholomew, the designer.…”
“Oh, I know who you are,” Carolyn said, extending her hand to his. “Loved you on Design Minds. I understand this kitchen is your handiwork. It’s spectacular.”
“Thanks, Carolyn,” Trae said, brushing a stray bit of hair out of his face. He gestured toward the bundles the movers had just set down and winked. “Wait ’til you see the killer rattan barstools I ordered to go around the island.”
“Carolyn was just leaving,” Hattie said abruptly.
“Can’t wait to see the place when you’re done,” Carolyn said, recognizing her cue.
* * *
“That was pretty rude,” Trae commented. “Even for you.” He turned to the movers, who were waiting for directions. “You can set those down right here, but then start bringing in the rest of the stuff through the front door, okay?”