“You’ll love the upstairs,” Josie continued.
“I don’t think so, Ms. Fortier. Let’s continue to the next home!” Hunter’s exclamation point was accented by his purposeful strides across the room and the gentle nudge of his hand.
He guided Gabi to his car and opened the passenger door. “We’ll follow you,” he told Josie, leaving her little option but to slide behind the wheel of her car and drive away.
“That was rude,” Gabi pointed out when they took the position behind Josie’s car.
“Why?”
“We could have at least looked at the upstairs.”
“To serve what purpose? You didn’t like it.”
“We still could have taken the time to let Josie show us the rest of it.”
“I don’t like wasting my time.”
Gabi turned her gaze out the window. “I don’t remember inviting you to join us.”
“I’ll be living in the home for a year and a half, too, Gabi. I’d like to know what I’m spending my money on.”
“Is that right? You didn’t mention the need to approve the purchase of the new home during our negotiations.”
“We didn’t settle on an approximate price of a new home, either . . . but that doesn’t mean we can’t come to a quick resolution for our temporary home.”
“Temporary for you, a little longer for me.”
He glanced over the edge of his designer sunglasses and caught her eyes. “You choosing our home doesn’t mean I’m giving you a month to find it.”
Josie slowed and indicated a turn into another tree-lined drive; this one had the gates a little farther inside the property line.
“It won’t take a month.”
“It will if you let your agent show you crap.”
They parked behind Josie and started over.
Instead of letting her emotions show on her face, Gabi pasted on a smile and made comments about the next two homes they visited. The colonial wasn’t her style, the Spanish revival didn’t hit the mark.
Hunter followed behind her during the tours and kept his desires to himself.
She didn’t lie well, Hunter decided. Her plastic smile and overexaggerated praise for each property kept them in each house a little longer than needed.
Ms. Fortier would stop at some point and ask, “So you think this is the one?”
Gabi would hedge at that point with a complaint that the kitchen wasn’t large enough or the outside space didn’t flow with the inside.
The woman was stalling and Hunter knew it.
While the two of them walked around the guest house of the forth property, Hunter removed his cell phone and pulled up a list of homes Tiffany had sent him. He passed over several potential homes based on the things he’d heard Gabi say on their tours.
Hunter sent two listings to Ms. Fortier on a text message.
He noticed her remove her phone from her pocket and glance in his direction.
Hunter placed a finger in front of his lips and the real estate agent grinned.
Gabi joined him outside the front of the house and shrugged. “Looks like you wasted your time today after all.”
“The day’s not over.”
“Josie said she had four listings to show me. This is the forth.” Gabi’s smug smile made him want her to eat her words.
Ms. Fortier locked the door behind her. “Looks like another opportunity is just around the corner. Do you have time for one . . . maybe two more, Mr. Blackwell?”
Gabi frowned.
Hunter smiled. “Of course.”
Silence filled his car as they drove a short distance away. The ornate iron gates were set alongside ten-foot hedges and hundred-year-old trees. Interlocking pavers funneled them up a slight incline until the pavement spilled into a circular drive with a fountain in the center.
Gabi’s tiny gasp had him watching her from behind his sunglasses.
He took a hunch and ran with it. Gabi’s Italian heritage and years of living on her brother’s resort island told him a few things about his wife.
Like with the other homes, Hunter stood back and observed.
Gabi ran her hand along the dark wood of the double front doors. The arched entry sat along a deep porch that looked to wrap around the entire house. One singular curving stairway sat at the far end of the large foyer. Dark wood and warm gold and tan walls looked like the cracking plaster in Rome but was a complete finish Hunter knew took at least ten layers to complete.
“Whoa.” Gabi seemed to forget to hold her emotions aside as she gawked at the thirty-foot ceiling.
Unlike the other homes, this one had furnishings staged to sell the house. Perfectly matched sofas filled the huge living room, oversize candles sat on the hearth of a fireplace a small child could stand up in.
Ms. Fortier read from her phone and talked about the home’s qualities, but from where Hunter stood, Gabi wasn’t listening. She walked through the living room and into the kitchen. “Oh, my.” She walked over to the professional stove and ran her delicate fingers over a faucet. “Do you know what this is?” she asked him.
“I don’t cook.”