Page 5 of Safer Alone
I rifle through my folder and retrieve some paperwork and hand it to Liam. It’s an offer form specifically for the property, with the listed amount printed clearly under the address.
“All you have to do is place both of your names here, your current address on this line, phone numbers just here, and both of you will need to sign here right at the bottom. I can then get the ball rolling on my end.”
Liam accepts the form and gives it the once-over. “Do you have a pen, Ange?” he asks.
I nod in response, “I certainly do. If it’s easier, though, you can take it with you and get it back to me?” I offer him my pen, he plucks it from between my fingers.
“It’s okay, we’ll complete it now. We would hate to lose it.” He starts jotting down the information that I requested, then slides the paper across the table and gives Jess the pen. She provides her information just as quickly as Liam, placing the pen on the paper once she has finished.
I collect the contract page along with the pen, running my eyes over the document and then proceed to place them both into my folder. “That’s all in order. I’ll let the owners know that I have received a full price offer, and once I have their instructions I will get back to you, hopefully later today. How does that sound?”
“That sounds great Angie. Thank you.”
We walk together back out to our cars waiting for us at the front of the home. Just before we part ways, I give them both hugs and then we wave goodbye.
I wait for their car to be out of sight before giving myself a pat on the back. Returning to the house I ensure all the locks are engaged. Then, placing one of my business cards on the kitchen counter with a smiley face drawn on the back, I leave the property, finally driving toward my home.
I try without success to contact the sellers, settling for a voicemail advising that I have received a full price offer and to return my call at their earliest convenience. I send a message to Liam, letting him know that I will send through a confirmation email on Monday once I have submitted the paperwork, so they would have a copy.
Pulling into my parking space a short time later, I lock my car and walk up the two flights of stairs to the floor of my apartment. After fishing out the keys from the side pocket of my handbag, I unlock the door and enter. Once inside, I place my handbag and folder on the kitchen counter, kick off my shoes, and help myself to the fridge, pouring a large glass of orange juice. I take a few sips and welcome the coolness. Picking up the glass, I take it with me to sit down on the couch.
I reflect on the appointments that had occurred today. Both have gone well. As long as the owners accepted Jessica and Liam’s offer, I have sold one home. The commission that will come from that sale will come in handy for next month’s bills.
I have a second viewing tomorrow at the two-story cottage in Belle Meade that has been on my books for a little while now. Not that the owners minded. It was a property that was in need of someone to love it and see it for what it really is: “a diamond in the rough.”
Also they are firmly set on receiving a full-price offer and won’t budge a dime. They don’t really need to sell the property as they are quite wealthy. If it doesn’t sell they will just keep it. Who knows, luck might strike twice and I could sell two properties this weekend. I don’t even notice that I had subconsciously crossed my fingers until my eyes fall when I feel the buzzing coming from my pocket, from my cell phone.
I grab my phone and switch it off silent mode immediately. There was no reason for it to be on vibrate any longer. I see that the email icon is flashing again. Opening the email app, it is evident that I have received another email from Mr. Sands. I open the email and read:
Miss White,
Directions won’t be necessary.
I look forward to meeting you, too.
Regards,
Elliot Sands,
CEO Sands PTY Limited
I can feel my cheeks blush. Here I am reading an email that mentions he is looking forward to meeting me. Me? Why on earth would he be looking forward to meeting me? Does he know who I am? It doesn’t take long to realize how silly I am being. He needs to meet me in order to see the house and he is obviously being polite.
I haven’t even given him another thought since his email from earlier this afternoon; I have been too busy with Liam and Jess. I decide against replying, instead placing the phone down on the couch beside me before picking up the remote control for the television. I switch it on and flick aimlessly through the channels, finally settling on a home renovation show; an old painted lady located in San Francisco. I try hard to concentrate on the show. However for some reason, tonight it just won’t hold my attention, especially now that my thoughts were elsewhere. Tonight I have a one-track mind, and where did that track lead? Elliot Sands.
I need to investigate this man, find out as much as possible. I locate my iPad, and settle back onto the couch. I unlock the screen and open the Google application. I tap the cursor into the search bar, the keyboard pops up at the bottom of the screen, I enter his name and hit enter. I take another sip of my orange juice as I wait for the search list to load.
Several websites are listed, and right at the top of the page was Wikipedia. Ahhh, good old Wikipedia. Sometimes it’s helpful and other times it isn’t. As I had expected, there is an interview with a business magazine and an entry in the Wall Street Journal further down the list. I decide to have a quick look at Wikipedia and then proceed to the next website.
I click on the webpage and it pops up in front of my eyes, a profile on Elliot James Sands. The first thing I notice, located toward the top of the page, is a color photograph of the man I will be meeting tomorrow. I enlarge to full screen so I can see it better. He is standing with his hands in the pockets of his black suit pants, jacket unbuttoned revealing a light blue button-up business shirt, with unruly sandy blond hair and blue eyes. I stare at the photo for a few minutes, taking in his features. He is very handsome and, no doubt, if he appears like this in a photo then he surely will look even better in person. I minimize the photo and scan quickly over the information listed. He is thirty-four, resides in New York City, owns his own business “Sands PTY Limited.” He is six feet, two inches, and single. Below all of that information, it also lists his net worth. He is wealthy, like Leonardo-DiCaprio wealthy. Of course. A business owner in New York who is listed on the Stock Exchange must be worth a pretty penny.
I put the iPad down and take another mouthful of orange juice, my thoughts running wild. Why would a super-rich, thirty-four-year-old be looking at purchasing an almost one hundred eighty-year-old cottage in Nashville, Tennessee? I mean, surely, he would have a mansion somewhere in New York City, wouldn’t he? He may even have several properties. Real estate, after all, is always a sound investment, so my grandfather always told me. Maybe he was after something a little off the grid where he could get away and unwind. He could unwind those arms around me anytime…Whoa, Angela, don’t go there. That’s never going to happen.
The cottage he would be looking at tomorrow is lovely, and it was a rarity these days. To find something of this caliber in Nashville, you had to be prepared to wait. The home itself is situated on a generous lot of close to two acres, which is something that I know for a fact he wouldn’t be able to find anywhere in Manhattan, since everyone builds on top of one another.
Apartment buildings are literally everywhere you look in the city. We have them here, I live in one. However, where you will live in one of over a hundred in a building there, my own is one of fifty-five. Could that be the reason that he was looking at property here in Nashville? There is always the possibility that he was someone who appreciated older properties. Might he be relocating to a new town to set up business in a second location? I am much more comfortable here in Nashville then I ever was in New York, so it’s possible other people feel the same.
I have to get my mind removed from this topic and onto something else. I need to relax and ignore the information that I had just learned. Otherwise I won’t be able to concentrate tomorrow. I have absolutely no reason to bring up his net worth at tomorrow’s meeting, after all.
