Rachel said goodbye and tossed her cell on the desk blotter. Her brows raised, she looked at Charley with a slight jerk of her head.
“Michael agreed to take a video of a house, his dime, as long as you give him permission to show the clip at the conference in Vegas,” Charley said in a rush.
Rachel raised her palm at Charley. “Wait. Permission as long as—”
“I know. As long as you see it first and give your okay. He doesn’t have much time. The guys leave for Vegas in a few days. That’s why he’s shooting today. Editing tomorrow. Showing it to you by the end of day tomorrow or the morning the day after. You’ll be around?” There, she said everything. With a half smile, she took a breath and waited for Rachel’s response.
“Slow down, Charley. Yes, I’ll be around. What property did you pick?”
“The spooky mansion near route I-95. It’ll be a perfect test. Daytona Beach properties get lots of hits online. It’s been on the market for three months. Zilch interest. Nada!” Charley said, lips still spread ear to ear exuding confidence she didn’t feel inside.
“That horrible place?”
“Potential! You always ask me if I think a property has potential. I stopped by late yesterday afternoon. I swear whoever built the house gave me a tour. A grand tour. Practically took me by the hand. Did you know the master bedroom has a ginormous wrap-around closet with a desk, a window seat, and shelving that made me want to cry. The whole place smelled a bit musty…nothing the ten air fresheners I bought at the Dollar Store can’t remedy. A few pieces of Victorian antique furniture are still there. Covered with sheets,” Charley said.
“The present owners thought it showed better with some furniture. They’re the third generation to inherit the place, but they have no interest in updating the property. If it doesn’t sell in another couple of months, everything left will be sold at auction…including the house,” Rachel said.
“They live in upstate New York?” Charley asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“Yes, Syracuse. I have a couple appointments tomorrow so let me know when the video is ready. I think my husband would like to see it. He’s like me—pictures taken with a camera on a tripod are just fine.” Rachel picked up her vibrating cell, turned her back to Charley as she said hello.
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Leaving her boss chatting on the phone, Charley scooted out of the agency and hopped into her car. Within forty minutes she pulled to a stop in front of the three-car garage of the spooky house. Michael had called that he was on his way. Getting out of the car, she leaned back against the door, her gaze taking in the over two-thousand square feet, two-story plus attic, home built in 1901. The gray clapboard siding desperately needed a coat of paint. The wrap-around porch supported with white posts and a railing were also in need of repair. The wisteria dripping from the porch eves needed some serious pruning. The whole place needs a triple dose of TLC. It could be worse, she thought. Turning left and right, she saw the vegetation…live oak trees draped with Spanish moss and palmetto bushes growing on the five acres of land required thinning. A landscape design around the house would help.
Retrieving two large vases of silk flowers she borrowed from her mother, Charley ambled to the front door balancing the flowers, a tote, and her shoulder bag. Punching the lockbox with her agent’s code, she removed the key and let herself in. The stench of stale air hit her nose.
Clouds had moved in blocking direct sunlight, casting heavy shadows into the foyer and beyond. Charley shook off a chill running up her arms and set to work staging the rooms for the video.
A thick layer of dust had settled since the owners fled north, but unless you looked for a broken banister or a door that squeaked when you moved it, the place seemed pretty clean—no trash. Windows were large which would help with the video. Maybe no sun to blind the drone’s camera was a good thing. Although she remembered in one of the Google articles that shooting inside with a drone the brighter the better. No matter, Michael was bringing Mercury for the shoot, much more sophisticated than Pigeon he said.
The oak cabinets in the kitchen looked rather tired. All the walls were white, grayish white, which showed well against the dark oak window trim and original oak floors. Overhead fans with lighting were installed in every room by the previous generation. She wondered how much dust would fly if she switched them on.
A small, round cherry table had been left in the center of the living room. Charley set one of the vases with stems of roses, gladiolas, and ferns on it and took the other arrangement to the huge pantry off the kitchen. As she walked through the parlor she pulled a sheet from a Victorian settee upholstered in red damask. The cloth, a bit threadbare in spots, should photograph well but don’t get too close. Hearing Michael’s car, Charley hustled to the front door.
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Three hours and forty-five minutes flew by, literally. Mercury catching with his camera’s eye every room with details Charley wanted to highlight. Methodically, Michael piloted the hand-held drone through each room—pausing in the center of the room, slowly turning in a circle, then sliding to the next, and the next, circling slowly.
“I’d like some aerial shots outside, Michael. There are five acres. I think a shot hovering over the house, then turning 360 degrees in a wide circle to get an idea of the property,” Charley said.
“Not a problem, little miss. Mercury’s pilot is at your command,” he said, with an easy smile. The little patch under his lower lip needed clipping as he gave it a scratch.
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Arial shots taken, packing Mercury in his case in the back seat, Michael looked at Charley. “I think you’ll like the video. A few shots I did a double take…wasn’t sure if I got the details like that great closet for the master bedroom. That sucker was huge. I’ll call you in the morning. Give you an idea when you can view it. I’m hoping for around three o’clock. We’re cutting it close to when I leave for Vegas and I have to get Rachel’s blessing—hopefully without more editing. Sound good to you?”
“Perfect, and thanks again.”
“Hey, remember our deal—Rachel says yes to my showing it in Vegas, and you say yes to dinner.”
“It’s a deal.” Charley threw an air kiss to his cheek but maneuvered out of his reach when he tried to pull her in for a kiss with heat.
Giggling, Charley jogged to the front door of the spooky house returning the key to the lockbox. Waving goodbye to Michael as he drove down the driveway, she opened her car door, turned back to look at the house a smile spreading across her face. It had been a good day.
Driving to the beach house to return her mother’s silk flowers carefully propped up on the floor of the back seat, doubts crept into her thoughts. Michael made it look easy piloting Mercury. She wondered if she was setting herself up for a fall. What if the video produced results, big results? Learning to be a pilot, hand-held maybe not so bad, but the techniques to send signals to the drone to turn, rise, descend at the right moment was going to take time. Techniques that could take months to master. She couldn’t ask Michael to keep shooting properties for her. He would soon ask for more than dinner. She decided when she returned to her cabin she’d do some Google searches for a drone pilot, maybe someone who piloted for a hobby, or a student who played around with drones. At the very least she’d find out what they charged. It wasn’t just the pilot, there was more. Editing. Music.
She was getting ahead of herself. First, see what Michael produced. Find out how long it took him to edit the video, to add an intro—style of house, the address of the property. If she was going to hire someone, she would have to keep the cabin for awhile longer, invest her commissions back into her job. How dumb would that be? Plow her commissions back into Rachel’s agency? She chuckled, slapped the steering wheel. “So, Miss Kingman, now you’re dreaming of opening your own agency?”
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Michael turned onto I-95 south, his mind calculating how he was going to edit the video for the biggest imp
act, also deciding what music he was going to add in the background. He had built a solid repertoire of random music clips—percussion, some strings, and a lone saxophone. The music was ready, notes rising and falling depending on the scene. All he had to do was cut or lengthen the snippets.
His cell signaled an incoming call. His brows furrowed at the name. “Now what?” he mumbled.
“Hi, this is Michael.”
“Michael, Geoff Kingman here. I wonder if you could do me a favor in the next hour if possible?”
“I will be glad to if I can. I’m—”
“In Deland. I’m putting together a bid on a major reno of a commercial building. It would be very helpful if you could shoot a video of the outside perimeter—once around, an aerial shot.”
“It looks like rain, Mr. Kingman, but if it holds off…no problem. Give me the address. Do you want measurements of the size of the building—each side?”
“You’re kidding? That would be a big help,” Kingman said chuckling.
“Do you have the permission of the owner for a drone to fly over his property?”
“Yes, I do. No need to check in, Michael. Just drive up. There’s a gate—we won’t bother anyone opening it. Just get Mercury in the air—once around. There’s a large parking lot inside the fence. Shoot at an angle to get all of the cement block building—all sides. No need to do any editing. Can you send me a copy when you’re done?
“Not a problem, Mr. Kingman—driving to Deland, shooting a quick circle around, then back…you should have your video in less than three hours. I’ll stop by and transfer it to your computer”
True to his word, Michael arrived at the beach house and loaded the raw video on Mr. Kingman’s computer. A bonus for Michael, Charley joined them in the office. She had returned her mother’s flowers and was curious to see the video Michael shot for her father.
“Nice work, Michael. That green truck in the parking lot adds dimension, shows off the size of the building. I’ll be able to calculate a renovation project versus a tear-down and rebuild. Send me your bill.” Geoff stared down at the computer screen, swiping the top of his bald head as if to keep his thoughts to himself.
Charley walked Michael to the front door and out to the driveway. To her surprise, he turned her to him when she opened her car door planting a kiss on her lips. Breaking away, she laughed. “Sorry, gotta go. Call when the spooky house video is ready for Rachel.”
Chapter 11
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STRETCHING, MICHAEL DRANK THE last of his coffee and shutdown his computer. The video of the spooky house was done complete with background music. He stayed up most of the night editing the sequences leaving time in the morning to add music and an introduction to the property. He was scheduled to rendezvous with Charley by 3:30 at Rachel’s agency.
It was show time.
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Charley arranged the small windowless conference room used to sign Purchase and Sale documents with clients. Two chairs were positioned on either side of the six-foot table with enough room to accommodate Michael’s laptop. A flat screen TV sat on a table next to the wall in case Michael wanted to connect his laptop to it—bigger screen, bigger impact.
A soft buzz at the front entrance announced a visitor. With one last glance at the room she was satisfied and strode up to Michael. “Are you ready?” she asked in a conspiratorial tone.
“You bet, Miss Kingman. The video is terrific if I do say so myself.”
“Follow me. You can set up then I’ll get Rachel.”
“Charley you look terrific in that uniform, black slacks, sexy white blouse. A pretty, sassy agent,” he said with a full set of brilliant white teeth displayed in a broad smile.
“Knock it off, Michael. This is serious…but thanks,” she said, her eyes flirting with his. “Here you go.”
“Oooh, I like-a-da big screen. Give me a minute then get that boss lady.”
Michael dug into his backpack for a cable to the TV, turned on his laptop, a few tap-tap-taps on the keyboard and his laptop and the TV came to life displaying the front entrance to the spooky house now appearing like a stately manor. Centered in big white letters was the address of the property. A saxophone played a jazz number in the background, slow at times interlaced with fast.
Charley’s eyes opened big as saucers. “Wow! I’ll get Rachel.”
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Rachel’s husband had dropped by the agency to pick up some files that were mixed up with his wife’s when she left the house earlier. She asked if he’d like to sit in on the video, get his opinion. He sighed following his wife. He wanted to see the video but he was running late for an appointment.
Rachel introduced him to Charley and in turn to Michael, the drone pilot who produced the video.
“Charley Kingman?” Ramirez said, nodding to Charley. “I know your father, Geoffrey Kingman. Construction I believe.”
“That would be my father. I’ll tell him we met.”
“No need. We don’t really travel in the same circles except for an occasional golf game. So, your drone young man—a hobby?” he said turning to Michael.
“Oh no, Mr. Ramirez, drones are way more than a hobby. My partners, business partners, are on the cusp of making it big in Las Vegas, a conference.”
Rachel and her husband sat facing the big screen as room after room swept by captured from Mercury’s vantage point. Charley was mesmerized with the end product—the introduction, the music. So professional. If she considered learning how to be a drone pilot before, this video sealed the deal in her mind.
Michael didn’t know what to make of Mr. Ramirez but thought he’d take advantage of another business person. At the end of the stately manor, signing off with Ramirez Real Estate, he clicked the beginning of the video he shot for Mr. Kingman. Rachel had scooted out to take a phone call, so Michael figured he had a captive audience.
When Ramirez jumped to his feet and left, Michael shut down all the equipment, packing the cable in his backpack. “Do you know Ramirez?” he said to Charley. “He seemed interested and then left like a big ol’ gator was after him.”
“Not really. Only to say hi and goodbye.”
Rachel came back in the room and Michael asked her what she thought of the spooky house turned stately manor.
“You did a good job. The house looked better than I remembered, but honestly I don’t think it’s that much better than the pictures we have on the website and the Multiple Listing Service,” Rachel said.
“Do I still have your permission to show it at the conference? A way to use our drone to sell real estate?”
“Yes, go ahead, and I’ll post the video on the MLS page. I doubt the property will get any more attention than before, which was nothing.”
Rachel returned to her desk and Charley walked Michael to the door and out to the driveway.
“Well, Miss Kingman, that went well.” He twirled her into his arms planting a hot kiss on her pink lips.
Taking a breath she stepped back. “Thanks again, Michael. I’ll let you know if we get any bites from the video.”
“Okey dokey, and now for our dinner. How about tonight?”
“I can’t, a realtor’s meeting, sponsored by the Chamber.”
“Hey, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re avoiding me…your savior pilot?”
“Never! Work before pleasure as they say.” With a bright smile Charley left him standing in the agency parking lot.
Chapter 12
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IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL May day. It’s the time of year that Floridians cherish—not too hot, definitely not cold—high seventies. It was 9:30 on the dot when Charley pushed open the plate-glass door into the agency. Rachel was at her desk watching Charley strut to her desk as she reached for the phone. Putting the caller on hold, she waved the handset at Charley, nodding to pick up.
Charley smiled and punched the flashing light. “Hello, this is Charley Kingman. Can I help you?”
&n
bsp; “We hope so. My husband and I are looking at a video, your listing of a large house on Tomoka Farm Road. We’d like to see it. Today, if possible.”
“I can show you the house. What time would you like to meet at the agency?”
“Now, if that’s OK with you, but not at the agency. Can we meet at the house? I’m sure we can find it.”
“Super. Your name?”
“Dahlia Springer and my husband Blaise.”
“Great. Do you live in the area?”
“No, we’re from Vermont. Snowbirds I guess you call us down here in Florida. We were going to head home tomorrow, but then we saw your listing and stopped packing the car,” Dahlia said with a smoky chuckle.
“Your telephone number?”
“Is 11:00 OK?” Charley said noting Dahlia’s cell number.”
“Yes it is. What’s your name again?”
“Charley Kingman. I’ll see you soon.” Disconnecting the call she looked over at Rachel. “That was Mrs. Springer from Vermont. They want to see the spooky house,” she said eyebrows raised. “At least the video turned up one prospect. I’ll check my messages and be on my way, unless you have something you’d like me to do.”
“No, you go ahead. Kitty and Hank will be here shortly, so we’ll be covered,” Rachel said with a sigh.
Charley checked her email. The inbox was empty, but she had a lead to show a house. Printing out the listing details in a professional looking color flyer, she pushed her shoulders back, lifted her head a notch. The empty inbox didn’t faze her. So far, it was a good day.
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Charley mounted the four steps to the front porch of the historical Victorian house. To her, the light gray clapboard home seemed to put on its show face in the brilliant morning sunshine. The wraparound porch with white railing was a show stopper.
A Toy for Christmas Page 5
