“Cole, dear?” Audrey O’Keefe appeared at his elbow, resplendent in a fuchsia blouse worn over emerald pants. She and her husband, Bert, had followed him from the office in their car. “How many acres did you say were here?”
Cole emerged from his reverie to focus on the woman who captained his mother’s lawn-bowling team. Audrey wore chunky rings on every finger, and a pair of oversize sunglasses perched in a nest of bright orange hair. As if to compensate for her gaudiness, her husband, Bert, wore plain brown shorts and a beige shirt. His thinning hair was a nondescript shade somewhere between pale blond and gray.
“Five hectares or about ten acres in the old measure,” Cole said as he led the couple to the house. “The house was built by my grandfather in the 1800s. But you know that.”
The O’Keefes were the fifth couple he’d shown the house to that week. So far he hadn’t gotten even a nibble and he wasn’t expecting one today. Audrey and Bert were so different it was hard to please both.
“It’s gorgeous,” Audrey said as Cole rang the doorbell. “I’ve always loved the Victorian trim on the veranda.”
“Are the plumbing and wiring up to code?” Bert asked.
Jane opened the door. In a pale pink top over a white denim skirt she looked as cool and sweet as peppermint ice cream. His impulse as a man was to try to charm her. But that was not on. If she wanted a business relationship, that’s exactly what she was going to get.
He nodded to her formally then answered Bert’s question. “There was no code when this place was built, and the plumbing and wiring are original. They’ll need complete redoing before the place is livable.”
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