Chapter 2

Iturned onto the private driveway nestled between two palmetto trees, and an all-white beach house stood before me like a pristine pearl.

My breath hitched at the view.

Men rarely took my breath away, but houses? Oh, they could knock the wind out of me.

I glanced at the time and panicked. The Moores were set to arrive any minute. I slammed my car into park and hastily grabbed the box of cookies from my passenger seat. My chunky wedges clamored against the stairs as I rushed to the front porch. I unlocked the grand front door with one hand while balancing the box and my bag in the other.

"Ew!" I gasped as I entered the space. The smell of fresh paint permeated the empty home. I rushed to open a few windows, and briny air drifted in. The spacious main room filled with the natural salty aroma of the ocean in no time, something a scented candle could only dream of replicating.

I equipped all the bathrooms with hand towels and toilet paper with one second to spare.

I still cringed when I thought about my first real estate showing. It was of a studio apartment downtown, on King Street. I didn't know to check the toilet paper beforehand, and my client, an older gentleman, used the bathroom. He berated me, from the toilet, for five minutes before he finally told me, ‘To get his ass some damn toilet paper.' I ran to the bar below and gave them a ten-dollar bill for a roll of toilet paper. I'll never forget the look on the bartender's face. He thought I was insane. It wasn't my proudest moment.

A soft rapping on the door interrupted my thoughts, signaling the Moore's arrival.

"Mrs. Moore, Mr. Moore, please come in!" I said as I ushered the couple into the home.

"Oh, my goodness! You're just as stunning as the home," Mrs. Moore chirped. "Please, call me Debra."

"And I'm Paul," Mr. Moore said with a sincere grin.

"It's so nice to meet you both!"

"The pleasure is ours," Debra said. "This home is magnificent! I didn't see this one online. Is it newly listed?"

"It was listed a few days ago, but the seller suggested I show it to the clientele I deemed a good fit before putting it online," I explained. "I am ecstatic that y'all are the first to see it!"

"Are those cookies?" Paul made a beeline for the box of cookies in the kitchen, utterly oblivious to our conversation.

"Paul, let her offer them to you first," Debra scolded him.

"No, please, help yourself!" I laughed.

"We're getting dinner after this, Paul," his wife reminded him. "Don't spoil your appetite."

"You know that's impossible," he said while patting his belly.

Paul managed to eat two cookies before Debra swatted his hand away.

"Deb, oatmeal raisin is your favorite," he reasoned with her. "You have to try one!"

"Paul, stop wasting Kenna's time."

"Oh, don't worry about me," I told her. "Y'all are my last showing of the day. I have all the time in the world!"

"Oh, don't tell Paul that," Debra laughed. "He'll talk your ear off until the sun goes down!"

"What if we split one?" he asked Debra, negotiating with his wife.

"Okay, okay," she finally caved. She took a bite, and her eyes widened. "Did you bake these?"

I shook my head. "I must admit, I picked them up on my way over."

"No shame in that, dear," Debra said. "They are delightful!"

"Delicious," Paul chimed in with his mouth still full.

"You can take them home when we're done here!" I promised them.

"Oh, that's not necessary," Debra insisted.

Paul huffed in response, which made me giggle. Men tended to act like adult-sized children, which could be infuriating or endearing, depending on the man and the situation.

"I'm constantly buying cookies," I explained to the twosome. "The last thing I need is to take these home with me."

"If you insist," Paul winked at me, "we'll take them off your hands."

Once we finished indulging in cookies, my clients and I finally turned our attention to the house. Paul's eyes lingered on the treats with admiration, but it was time to get down to business.

And the kitchen seemed like a suitable spot to begin.

"The kitchen features custom cabinetry and Carrara marble countertops," I explained.

"This Carrara marble is quality work," Paul said, running his hand along the smooth countertop.

Paul took his time admiring the details, but Debra was busy eyeing the built-in breakfast nook. It offered an unobstructed view of the ocean. I couldn't blame her for being drawn to it. It was one of my favorite parts of the house.

"I can already see you nestled in the corner there," Paul spoke softly to his wife, "reading a book and sipping tea."

"That sounds lovely," Debra whispered.

"Shall we move on to the great room?" I asked, and my clients nodded eagerly.

Debra let out a small gasp when we entered the next area. Exposed wood beams lined the high ceilings, and two brick fireplaces sat on either side of the room. A singular wall made entirely of glass, floor to ceiling, allowed natural light to flood the space.

"Is there no door in here to get to the patio?" Paul scanned the room, searching for a way to the outdoor area visible through the glass wall.

"That's the best part," I said, holding a sleek black remote.

The glass wall began sliding into a seemingly invisible pocket.

"A retractable glass wall?" Paul looked as shocked as I assumed he would.

When we first discussed what the Moores were looking for over the phone, Paul mentioned that he was interested in all the bells and whistles. I certainly didn't want to disappoint.

"Bi-fold panel walls are common in the area, but glass pocket walls are becoming the new trend," I explained. "It creates a seamless open space, allowing the great room and the outdoor patio to become one."

"Whoa," was all Paul said.

"Here," I handed him the remote, "try it out for yourself."

He fiddled with the buttons, and the glass wall shut again.

"Can others see through the glass?" Debra finally asked. She hadn't said a peep since I pulled out the remote. "It doesn't seem like it offers much privacy for nighttime."

"The Atlantic Ocean is the only peeping Tom you'll find in this area," Paul joked.

"It has smart glass technology," I explained to Debra. "You can change the wall from clear glass to opaque with a touch of a button. I'll demonstrate it for you."

With a press of the remote, the tint of the glass transformed in front of our eyes. The once-clear surface became a warm, opaque hue that glowed on the walls surrounding us.

"That is impressive," Paul said. "Deb, don't you think so?" He wrapped an arm around his wife and pulled her into him.

"There is no way this is rated for hurricanes," she whispered to her husband.

"Actually, it is an impact-rated glass wall. It must be to keep builders compliant," I explained to her with a smile.

Honestly, I fully understood and empathized with her concerns. With the seasonal threat of hurricanes, having an all-glass wall did not seem like the safest choice.

"I just think it might be a bit unnecessary," she said. "I'm not exactly tech-savvy."

"Well, it's a good thing you married me," he told her. "You know I love this stuff."

"Paul, you battle with your iPhone daily!"

He looked genuinely offended. "No, I battle with Siri," he replied defensively. "It misinterprets commands. That has nothing to do with my skill set."

"I struggle with Siri too," I admitted, trying to ease the couple's bickering.

Debra didn't push the issue any further. She took her husband's hand, and they made their way to the pristine patio.

"Look at this view!" Paul said to her.

"Imagine all the cookouts we could have out here," Debra said as she closed her eyes. "Our grandkids would swim in the pool while they showed their parents their impressive handstands and diving skills. You would operate the grill. I would sit with my feet propped up and an iced tea in my hand."

"I can see it now," Paul's smile widened.

The house was practically selling itself.

"Are y'all ready to head upstairs?" I asked. "I think you will both be impressed by the primary suite."

They nodded and followed me up the stairs, curious to see what awaited them. As we entered the primary suite, their jaws dropped in awe. The room was bigger than my entire apartment. And my apartment was by no means small. Large windows offered a breathtaking view of the ocean. A balcony provided a perfect spot to snuggle up with a morning coffee and newspaper. The en suite bathroom was equally impressive with its oversized Jacuzzi tub.

"Wait until you see the best part," I whispered to Debra.

I led them through the spacious closet area, which was hard to ignore. It was impressive, in its own right, with two separate entrances for his and hers.

"Wow, I could really get organized with a space like this," Debra said. The closet delighted her, but it wasn't the area I was referring to.

It was what was hidden behind it.

"This," I paused as I gently pressed on the bare wall, "is your private library."

It slowly opened to reveal a hidden library. Every wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, dimly lit by a chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. A wheel ladder leaned against one of the shelves, allowing easy access to even the highest shelf.

"This is truly a book lover's paradise," I told Debra.

"Is this real?" Debra twirled in the open space, taking it all in.

Paul gave his wife a sly smile.

He had not so subtly expressed his desire for a library within their prospective abode. From the look on my clients' faces, it was safe to say that I had exceeded their expectations.

After the Moores and I toured the rest of the house, I was convinced it would be their new home. Somehow, they seemed to fit in the space like it was made for them.

Before we said our goodbyes, I handed Paul the box of cookies. Judging by his expression, he had half-expected me to forget about the baked goods.

The Moores clarified that they wanted to take some time to weigh their options. I thoroughly appreciated their hesitancy. My client's rash decision earlier in the day left me feeling uneasy. Buying a property should never be done on impulse.

My philosophy was that the more time a client spent making their decision, the happier they were in the long run.

And my philosophy was not limited to real estate.