Valerie stepped into the room, all dressed in violet—her self-designated signature color—and a well-dressed couple followed behind her. Val’s blue eyes went wide, and she put a hand to her chest as she spotted Kincaid and Liv standing there. “Well, I’ll be,” she said dramatically. “Kincaid Breslin. I didn’t know the house was being shown already. You gave me quite the scare.”
Kincaid put on a beaming smile and whipped out her own version of southern-style hostility. “Well, honey, our car is parked right outside. I’m sure you saw it.”
“Oh, is that yours?” she mused. “It looked so dusty, I thought it was abandoned.”
Kincaid’s teeth clenched as she held her smile. “You know how it is. I stay so busy, I just haven’t had time to bring it in for a wash. Clients come first.”
“Of course.” Valerie’s red lips twitched. “Well, we won’t get in your way. I’m just going to show the Nicholsons around.” She glanced at the couple. “Isn’t this place so special?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty run-down,” Kincaid said with a dismissive shrug.
Valerie’s mouth pursed. “Oh, it’s just the surface that needs a little polishing. Jason here is an architect. He could make this place into a showpiece, couldn’t you, Jason?”
The man was scanning the space with analytical eyes. He nodded. “I could. The size is perfect.” He glanced at his wife, who was snapping a photo with her phone. “Sweetheart, we could strip out everything and start fresh, maintain the look outside. Go modern minimalist on the inside. White walls. Black and gray furniture. It would be so open and airy.”
Modern minimalist? Something died inside Kincaid. “You can’t be serious.”
The man’s attention swung Kincaid’s way, and he sent her an affronted look. “Excuse me?”
Liv made a choked sound next to her, but Kincaid couldn’t hold her tongue. “I’m just saying, if you want modern, get a loft in Austin or go grab one of the lots in Wilder and build from scratch. Why would you want to turn this into something it’s not?”
“Because we could turn it into something better,” he countered, his chin lifting a fraction like a little kid putting his little foot down.
“But this has character,” Kincaid replied, arms crossing.
“Oh, Kincaid, you’re too much,” Valerie said with faux lightness, the tension showing in the lines around her eyes. “She’s just messing with you, Jason. Better watch her, y’all. She’s a wily one. She’ll steal something from right under your nose. Just like that.” Valerie snapped her fingers, the sharp sound echoing in the cavernous room. “She probably has a client who wants it, and she’s just trying to scare you off. But we don’t scare easily.” She gave Jason a wink. “Let’s continue the tour, shall we?” Valerie pretended that Kincaid and Liv weren’t there as she passed them on her way to the kitchen, the Nicholsons and a cloud of Valerie’s lavender perfume following. “Six bedrooms. A mudroom. Beautiful deck out back with a pond.”
Kincaid stayed frozen to the spot. Something was beating at the walls of her brain, her heart pounding against her temples. She listened as the couple exclaimed over how great the kitchen would be if converted to an industrial look.
Industrial. Deep breaths.
“Kincaid,” Liv said, putting a hand on her arm. “Are you all right? Your cheeks are all flushed.”
Kincaid pressed her lips together, her eyes still focused in the direction of the kitchen. She had trouble pinpointing the emotions coursing through her. Anger was one. But the other one felt like…loss. Like this was her house those people were tromping through. Her dreams they were traipsing upon.
“Are you worried you’re going to lose the sale?” Liv continued. “Should you call your client? Maybe she can move fast if she loves it. I can send the pics to her as soon as I get to a laptop if she can’t make it out here quickly enough.”
“This house is not for them,” Kincaid declared.
“I agree,” Liv said, nodding. “I love modern, but this is not the house for that. Even if they had a good vision for it, I wouldn’t want that horrible woman to make the commission. Call your client.”
Kincaid shook her head. “It’s not for my client either. She won’t understand it.”
Liv’s brow wrinkled. “Understand what?”
Kincaid spread her arms out. “That it’s already beautiful and just needs some help getting back to its glory, not to become something else entirely. Why is the world so obsessed with making things into what they’re not?”
Liv frowned. “Well, does it really matter what someone does to it as long as you’re the one getting the sale? That’s the main point, right? Sell the house. Make the money.”
That should be the main point. Kincaid needed this sale if she wanted to keep her gig at the agency.
“Oh, sweetheart. I think this is the one,” the woman client said somewhere in the distance. “We should snatch this one up before anyone else can.”
Valerie made a gleeful sound. “I think that is an excellent idea. You have brilliant taste. Let’s talk offer.”
Liv made a face. “Oh shit. They’re going to buy. Call your client, Kincaid.”
Kincaid pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Ferris.