AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Meg
October
Four Weeks before the Election
The Mandeville property is listed at just over $7 million and located up a small road off Mandeville Canyon. “It’s a flat parcel of land totaling just over two acres, almost unheard of anymore,” I tell Ron as we drive west from Beverly Hills. I’d waved my hand at Ron’s concern over my dented bumper. A fender bender on Sunset, I’d said.
“Centrally located,” I say now. “You’ll be close to the amenities of Brentwood but have the privacy you’ll need as a state senator.”
“I’m definitely tired of hotel living,” he says.
“It’s not quite move-in ready,” I caution. “But I don’t think it’ll take much work to get there. I know the price point is a bit high, but with the sale of Canyon Drive, you have more than enough for a healthy down payment if you decide to finance it.” I give him a sideways glance and say, “If you ever run for governor, this would be the perfect place for campaign events. Fundraising dinners. The listing agent is a friend of mine, and she says the property was owned by Ronald Reagan for a time, back when he was working in Hollywood. The pedigree is top notch.”
As expected, that grabs his interest.
I pull through an open gate flanked by ancient oak trees. A stone wall borders the property, extending in both directions as far as the eye can see. I’ve been here several times—on different days, at different times. And each time, it’s been as deserted as it is today.
So many of these former trophy estates linger on the market for years, no buyer willing to take the time and expense of rehabbing them. Many of them, like this one, are on lockbox, and it’s simple to get the combination and show it without an anxious listing agent ever knowing you were there.
I force my grip on the wheel to loosen, my muscles to stay relaxed. “A security gate can be installed pretty easily,” I say. “The house is newly vacant; the seller is motivated, but it hasn’t hit the market yet.”
There’s a long, winding drive bordered by more oak trees, and I ease the car forward, my wheels crunching on the gravel. We pull up in front of a single-story ranch house with a mix of brick and white clapboard siding.
As we approach the front door, I layer my comments carefully, like a house of cards, one alluring fact on top of another. “There’s room for about thirty cars to valet park,” I say. Then I point toward the back. “Behind the house, we’ve got a pool, pool house with an apartment above it, and a small stable if you want horses. They say Reagan rode every day.”
Then I usher him inside. “It needs some updating—fresh paint and new appliances, but those things can be done in a week.” I point out the hardwood floors, a river rock fireplace, and an open-concept living room that leads to the kitchen. “Five bedrooms, all on this level. Plus a maid’s quarters.”
I trail him, letting his imagination take over. “Huge kitchen, which can easily accommodate a full catering staff,” I say as we pass through. “Hookups for a double washer and dryer through there.”
Out back, we stand on an enormous flagstone patio with incredible views of the canyon dropping below in the distance. “Few city lights out here, so the stars at night are magnificent.”
We spend an hour walking the property, and I feel his interest building, my own excitement growing. This is the centerpiece of my plan. Without it, I’ll have nothing to show for my time here other than a commission on the sale of a house that should have always been mine.
“I know you’ll be spending most of your time in Sacramento,” I say when we’re done and back in the car. “But you’ll need a place to get away. To recharge. All the most influential politicians have something like this, and as the saying goes, dress for the job you want, not the job you have.” At the light at the base of the canyon, I add my last layer of persuasion. “I think it’s doable. With what you got from the Canyon Drive sale, you won’t have to make up too much of the difference—three million maybe. My advice would be to think about it carefully. Run the numbers with your business manager, but don’t take too long. There are three different showings on the property this afternoon, and it’s going to sell fast. But my friend owes me a favor. She can make sure ours is the first offer on the table, and if we can make it all cash, that’ll be competitive enough to take it off the market.”
I let that sit while we drive back to the Beverly Hills office, where we’ve left Ron’s car. His left elbow rests on the center console, and I think about how easy it would be to reach across and invite something a little more intimate. An extra layer of scandal that could come out at the worst possible time. Sexual harassment of his real estate agent, right before the election.
I’ll be honest, I really considered it. Back in Pennsylvania, when I was researching the best entry point, I was tempted by how much damage I could do as his girlfriend. But no matter how many ways I tried to reconcile it in my mind, it felt like a bridge too far. The ghost of my mother would be too close, her voice whispering things I didn’t want to hear.
By the time we get back to the office, Ron is ready. “Draw up the paperwork,” he says. “I’ll call Steve and put him to work gathering the cash.”
I turn to him. “You sure?” I ask. “It’s a lot of money.” I hold up my hand and laugh. “I know I spent all morning talking you into it, and now here I am trying to talk you out of it,” I say. “But I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with. If it’s too big of a risk, we can go back to looking for another apartment building. Add to your portfolio and proceed with the status quo.”
It’s the perfect thing to say. “Risk is what makes life worth living,” he says. “Let’s put in an offer for full asking price, all cash.”
I give him a cautious look. “Will you be able to assemble it that fast?”
Ron looks out the window. “David and I set something up with the campaign that allows us to have an emergency reserve of cash.”
“You sure you want to risk that so close to the election?” I ask. “If it gets out…” I trail off, letting him imagine the fallout.
“Let me worry about the money and you just focus on getting the deal done. I want a short escrow. It would be a great place to hold a victory party. If the house isn’t ready, we can set up tents, get a caterer to bring in the food.”
I smile. “You got it.”
***
I wait twenty-four hours, then call with the good news. “They accepted our offer, and the seller agreed to all of our terms. We’re set to close in fourteen days—two weeks before the election.”
