Page 67 of Gulfside Girls
“This hotel and these cottages are tired, out of style, and a financial drain. Whoever owned this place held out so long that the market has moved on.”
“I think they’re so cute.”
“Yeah, but you could be charging triple for a condo facility. If you’re looking to do that. But that’s also work work work, plus with the new building regs, it’s not cheap.”
“Nothing is down here, I noticed.”
“Here’s what I recommend. You give me this listing. The entire property. And we sell it for you. Likely, the developers will be able to tear it down, and do this right to maximize the rental income from vacationers. It’s impossible to do that with this setup.”
Ali felt defensive again. This place didn’t need to be torn down. It just needed new energy.
“Condos on this stretch could go for millions per condo for the owners and thousands of dollars a week to them for vacationers.”
“Millions? Like two million?”
Patsy peered over her chunky animal print progressive glasses and leveled her most serious face at Ali. “I’d tell you to sit down, but we’re on the beach, and I don’t have my bathing suit. So, here’s my no B.S. number. This land alone, the acreage? This can easily list for fifteen and sell for ten.”
“Ten what?” Ali was starting to feel faint.Are hot flashes contagious?
“Ten million dollars in your pocket. You know, provided you own this free and clear.”
Ali did want to sit down; her breath had got shallow. The conversation felt unreal. What did the kids say? She needed to touch the grass.
“You’ve got prime beach property, just not prime beach rental. Let me take this off your hands, and your next chapter will be as a millionaire. Well, a multi-millionaire.”
Patsy Gleaner was a dynamo, and she had, with that information, given Ali a whole new picture of her future.
Twenty-Six
Ali
Ali tried to process the sheer magnitude of the numbers Patsy had quoted. The real estate agent had left her card and a palpable craving for the listing as she drove away.
Ali needed to talk to Faye and Blair. She needed her sisters’ thoughts and support.
She’d sent them several videos and pictures of the hotel and the cottages. She also sent a photo of the bog-like swimming pool so they had the most realistic idea possible.
After a few texts, all three sisters got on Facetime together.
Ali had set up a foldable lounge chair under the largest palm at the side of the beach and popped in her earbuds. She still felt like all this was some sort of out-of-body experience.
Seeing her two sisters in the little boxes warmed her from the inside out. She had only been gone a week, but the last few months had been a blur from the trauma of losing their dad to her husband to all the upheaval of what they’d learned since.
It was so much; maybe too much. It all sat on Ali’s chest right now and she had a hard time taking a deep breath. Seeingher sisters though, that was bringing her back to herself. They needed her. She needed them.
They’d sort this out, whatever this was.
“Well, how are things?”
“Cold and gray, the usual,” Faye said. Ali could see her sister’s kitchen in the background, with dozens of plants on every available surface. Her weapon against seasonal affective disorder was as many green things as she could find.
“Yeah, here too,” Blair said. She was in a coffee shop in Cinci.
“Yeah, quite cold and icy here too,” Ali joked as she pointed the camera to the beach and then back toward the little cottages.
“That’s it. I’m officially jealous,” Faye said.
“I can’t believe Dad never told us this, never let us go there on Spring Break. That’s so frustrating,” Blair said.
