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In fact, maybe Ty could put his relationship with Olympia Heartwood to even better use and invite along Bessie and Oliver to the luau tonight. He had four tickets…why should two of them go to waste?
He’d rather call than text, and the only person he made an exception for was Sage. She liked texting more than calling, because she could fire off an answer or a question in the few seconds she had while a client was under the dryer or when they went to the bathroom.
But for Oliver, he dialed the man, hoping he hadn’t put himself on the evening shift at The Mad Mango, the smoothie shop he owned.
“What’s up, Ty?” he answered, and it definitely sounded like he was working the line at the shop.
“What are you and Bessie doing tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Oliver said grumpily. “Probably something for the wedding. Why?”
“I have two extra tickets to a luau at The Heartwood Inn. Thought maybe you guys would like to double with me and Sage.”
Oliver sat there for a moment; someone yelled on his end of the line; then he said, “Let me talk to Bessie. I think she’d like that.”
“You haven’t taken her to a luau there, have you?” Ty asked, because he knew Oliver, and the man took dating very seriously. He planned the things he did with women down to the T, and Ty was convinced that was how he’d gotten Bessie to fall in love with him.
He grinned even as he thought it, because Oliver was a pretty great guy too. Grumpy, but great.
“No,” Oliver said. “And she was semi-complaining last week that she’s ready for something beachy, so this might be perfect.”
“It starts at seven-thirty,” he said. “With the drive, the ferry…We should probably be leaving the island about six-thirty.”
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “She doesn’t stay out late very often, and tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Let me know,” Ty said. “I’m not going to ask anyone else, so even if you show up at the luau and text me you’re there, I can run out and get you in.”
“Thanks, brother.” Oliver said good-bye, and the call disconnected. Ty purposely kept his Fridays light, but he did have a lunch he needed to get to today.
Once he’d arrived at the agreed-upon restaurant, he straightened his tie and pulled down the cuffs of his jacket. Steve Hammel did a lot of business on the island too, and he even knew the neighborhoods and towns on the mainland and all the way down to Beaufort.
As Ty walked toward the entrance to Mead’s, a popular place among the locals, he ran through his list of clients he was currently involved with. Sometimes people texted him to “watch for” a certain type of property and let them know if it came up.
Ty felt like all he did was watch for something to happen in his life. As he pulled open the door and got the first breath of blessed air conditioning, he wanted tomakesomething happen for him. He wanted todosomething.
“Hey,” he said with a chuckle as Steve turned toward him. He didn’t expect to find the other real estate broker dressed down for Friday, and he didn’t. Steve wore black pants, a white shirt, and a purple paisley tie surely his wife had picked out for him.
“Ty.” He grinned and man-clapped him on the back too. He held up two fingers to the hostess, and they got seated immediately. The lunch crowd on a Friday put out plenty of noise, but the booth where he and Steve sat still felt a little isolated to Ty.
“What’s new?” Steve asked, even before anyone had brought water. Ty liked the no-nonsense part of him. He was probably six or seven years older than Ty, and once-upon-a-time, Ty had wanted tobeSteve Hammel.
Have the huge house in the most prestigious gated community. Be the face of real estate in South Carolina. Have his name on the tip of every tongue whenever anything was brought up around town.
But now, seated across from him, Ty didn’t feel any of that. “You know what I need, Steve? Maybe you’ve got a client who needs an extra push to sell, or maybe you know of a property that’s not on the market yet.”
Ty unfolded his napkin and put it on his lap. He could still charm people, and his charisma had won him more than one house in a bidding war. He grinned across the table to Steve, who wore that wolfish, competitive light in his eyes that told Ty he could get the information he wanted.
“I’ve got a client who wants to live on the island. Maybe just off of it, but not very far. But she wants chickens. A big yard for her dog. A little shed to keep her tools in for the yard, the chickens, all of that. There’s nothing listed.” He sighed in mock frustration, though he’d certainly been irritated that morning.
“How big?” he asked.
“Three bedrooms, two baths,” Ty said as a waitress set down a glass of ice water. “Thanks.” He waited until she left, and he noted that neither he nor Steve had looked at the menu. Here, Ty didn’t even need one. He had it memorized.
“She’s looking for something maybe even a little rundown. She’s okay fixing it up. She says it’ll renew her as she renews the property.”
“Acreage?”
“Not specified. Enough for the dog to romp around. The chickens. Maybe a vegetable garden.” He considered Steve. “Half-acre?”
