Exclusively Yours. Nadine Gonzalez
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got the best inventory,” he said. “And I’ll teach you everything I know. How’s that?”
That was actually pretty damn nice. “I appreciate it. Really.”
He waived down the waiter and handed over a card. “To be clear, you’re using me as a stepping stone.”
She could kick herself. Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? “Is that okay?”
“If you’re going to use me, go ahead and use me,” he said. “Don’t worry about how I feel about it.”
Within the span of a meal, he’d shown her that she was way too earnest. Apologizing, explaining, stumbling over her words. She was nowhere as sharp as she believed herself to be.
“You must think I’m really green.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking.”
The bill arrived. He signed it and left a heap of cash as a tip.
“I’m going to be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “The bar is really high.”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
“I promise I won’t.”
Their waiter cleared the table of crumbs but, as far as she was concerned, they were alone in the restaurant.
He asked if there was anything else she wanted to know. Leila would have liked to ask if he was seeing anyone, but came up against the blunt edge of a double standard. He could push the boundaries all he liked, but she’d be dumb to try. She played it safe and asked what had drawn him to real estate.
He took a minute before answering, tapping the table with the credit card held loosely between his thumb and forefinger. “I started out in finance, as an analyst. Made good money. But routine kills.”
“You’re restless,” she said almost without knowing it.
He looked up, surprised. “You’re right.”
Yes! She clenched her fists under the table, thrilled she’d scored at his game.
Nick listened as Leila enthusiastically gave him an update on the broker’s open house. She’d used a contact list prepared by Monica to call the top local brokers. No invitations were extended; she offered to add them to a restricted guest list.
“It’s the fastest way to create a buzz,” she said. “Getting on a list—any list—drives people crazy.”
They were in his office with coffee. The night before, they’d agreed to daily meetings, if only for a few minutes. Nick was happy for an excuse to sit with her.
“I like the way you think,” he said.
“We have fifty confirmed guests.”
“That’s enough. No one shows up alone, and then it’s a big mess.”
“I’m going to order the food.”
“Get in touch with Sofia Silva for the bar. She sets it up, picks the wine, the whole thing.”
Leila jotted down some notes. Then she asked, “Who pays for all this?”
“The agency. Didn’t Jo-Ann tell you about our expense account?”
“No. See why these daily meetings are important? There’s so much I need to know.”
Nick thumbed through his wallet and handed her a corporate credit card. “I’m glad this is productive, but I could talk to you all day.”
She looked up from her lists and notes and smiled. He wondered if the feeling was mutual. But there was no time to dig deeper. He had a busy couple of days ahead.
* * *
He arrived to the open house with Sofia, the event planner. A little red roadster was parked out front and he hoped it was Leila’s. He was impatient to see her again and barely took the time to inspect the house, as he should. It was Sofia who noticed the candles floating on the pool’s surface. She asked whose idea it was. He wasn’t sure, but it had Leila’s delicate fingers all over it.
“You’re here.”
Leila walked up from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of her in a red dress.
It was going to be a long night.
“Did you do that?” he asked, pointing through the French doors to the pool in full view.
“The candles? Do you mind? When the sun goes down it’ll look really nice.”
“I don’t mind. It’s genius.”
“I agree. It’ll look gorgeous,” Sofia said.
Nick had forgotten Sofia. He introduced her to Leila. After she left to help the bartender set up, Nick turned to Leila and said, “I’m starting to think you believe in this sale.”
“You made a believer out of me.”
They stepped outside and wandered past the pool, toward the seawall.
“I want the focus to be on the canal,” Nick said. “I want everyone fantasizing about the boat they can’t afford sitting on that dock.”
“What’s the point in getting the brokers all liquored up?” Leila asked. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s an excuse for a party,” Nick said. “Plus, you’ve got to cozy up to the brokers. They defend the goal.”
“So, they eat, drink, look around...and then what?”
“Then they get to work calling their clients.” He pulled her aside. “Here are the rules. These are not friends. If they can screw us over, they will. I want you to be your lovely self, show them around, but don’t hover. Let them roam free and discover the property on their own terms. Answer questions honestly, but don’t over share. If they push back, direct them to me. They’ll try to tear the place down to weaken our hand, but don’t let them. We’re offering a top-shelf item here, and I’m determined to make this seller some money.”
“How did you get this listing, anyway?” she asked. “Did the owner go through the agency?”
“It rarely works that way,” Nick said. “I know the owner. He’s moving back to DC. The Miami experiment is over.”
They stood facing the water. Across the canal, a row of houses rivaled each other in grandeur and stature, each with gigantic boats tethered to their docks. The setting sun splashed everything tangerine.
“Hey,” Nick said, “is the Miata out front yours?”
“Yup. That’s my ride,” she said proudly.
“I had one like it back in the day,” he said. “Mine was black.”
“Of course.”
“How many miles?”
“Around 85K.”
“Ah,” he said. “You’re loyal.”
“Are you?” she asked.
There was a glint of mischief in her eyes. He wanted to know that side of her.
“Not really. I kept mine two years. It was my first. Bought it cash.”
“I won mine.”
“Won it?” he asked. “How? Like in a raffle?”
The more he got to know her, the more interesting she became.
“No, not a raffle,” she said.
“A game