was the ‘click’.
Trusting her instincts had made Lauren one of Chicago’s brightest young realtors. She had a reputation for matching people with the right property. Sometimes that meant careful legwork on the client’s wish list, and sometimes it meant ignoring the client’s wish list. Her gut said it was time to show the Greenleys something different.
“Before you sit down to think, there’s one more property I’d like to show you.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “I thought we’d seen pretty much everything.”
“In downtown condo living, you have. The place I have in mind doesn’t fall into that category. Sometimes I take my clients to a property that’s a little different. The contrast might help you weigh your wish list a little differently, or gel your decision on one of the properties you’ve already seen.”
Kate nodded. “I do that for a design sometimes. Show clients a couple of options outside what they’ve asked for. I think our wish list is pretty solid, but I’m happy to take a look at one more place.”
“It’s unoccupied, so we could head over there now, or any time in the next day or two.”
“I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour. Mitch is insisting—he thinks I’m overdoing it at work.” Kate grinned fondly at her husband. “However, I can do mid-afternoon. Does that work for you, love?”
Mitch nodded.
“Great, then let’s meet at three this afternoon,” Lauren said. “Here’s the address. It’s in South Loop, an easy walk from the Van Buren El station.”
…
Nat strolled down the street toward Santana’s to meet Lauren for a late lunch. Even in the chill of February, she tried never to rush. Her childhood had been full of schedules and timetables and a constant sense of needing to move a little faster. One of the small joys of adulthood was moving at her own speed.
Pulling open the door of their favorite neighborhood eatery, Nat took a moment to appreciate the funky décor. Gorgeous glass tiles topping the reception counter, sexy black & white photography on the walls, cozy booths of suede and wood. She waved to the owner and walked over to their usual corner table where Lauren waited.
“Hey, Nat!” Lauren held out a hunk of bread. “Try some of this, it’s still warm.”
“I’m so addicted to this stuff.”
“I don’t think anyone is meant to resist warm bread when it’s this cold out.”
Nat dunked her bread in the ready plate of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and salt. She savored the smells and the quiet joy of a best friend to share them with. “You look happy. Did good things happen at work?”
“I think so.” Lauren smiled at the waiter delivering glasses of the house red wine and ordered fettuccine Alfredo. “I think I’m going to sell this great South Loop brownstone to clients who wanted a downtown loft.”
“They really liked it?”
“They haven’t seen it yet. I’ve just got a feeling.”
Nat didn’t bother to ask. Lauren’s ‘feelings’ were legendary, especially where real estate was concerned. “You’ve got some fancy magic. I hope it works out.”
Lauren laughed. “You sound like the witches from last night.”
Nat could feel her eyebrows crossing. “You’re selling a house to witches?”
“No, I’m going to sell a house to the newlyweds I’ve been working with for a couple of months now. Last night, I sat down to order groceries online—”
“Ran out of food again?”
“Yeah. All I had left was a can of clam chowder.”
Nat rolled her eyes in sympathy. Lauren was practically allergic to clam chowder. That can might have been the one left over from the apartment they’d shared right after college.
“Anyhow, you have to create this master grocery list, and I went to add ice cream.” In between bites of fettuccine, Lauren filled Nat in on her strange detour from Karamel Sutra into a chat with three women who claimed to be witches.
“So, let’s see if I have all this.” Nat spooned up the last of her minestrone. “You got sucked out of the virtual ice-cream aisle by a fetching spell because these three women think you’re a witch? And they want to send a cute guy to check you out?”
“Sounds like the weirdest blind date ever, doesn’t it? I keep expecting some dude from a reality TV show to pop up beside me with a microphone.”
There could be worse things than a mysterious man showing up in your life, thought Nat, but she rolled with things a little more easily than Lauren. “I need to go shopping for ice cream tonight. It’s not fair for you to