Harlow hopped off and unfastened her helmet, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed at the cozy home. Soon, it would be hers, to decorate, to settle in, to make new memories. Even now, after weeks of waiting, she could still feel it calling to her.
Her aunt wiggled her helmet off and set it on the seat. “It looks like a neat place.”
“Lighthouse Lane is awesome,” Harlow said. “Wait until you get inside. It’s the most charming house I’ve ever been in.”
Birdie tapped the top of the lockbox dangling from the doorknob. “We need a code.”
“Right.” Harlow promptly dialed her friend Abby’s cell phone—the one who had gotten the Mackies, her friends, inside weeks ago to look around.
“Hey, Harlow.”
“Hey, Abby. Aunt Birdie and I are at Lighthouse Lane. Do you think you can get me the code so we can take a look around?”
“Sure. Give me a sec.”
While she waited, Harlow peeked in the window. It looked the same…exactly the same as it had during her last visit. “Hopefully, it won’t be a problem.”
“Harlow?”
“I’m here.”
Abby rattled off the numbers while she tapped in the access code. The lockbox popped open, revealing a door key. “Got it. Thanks.” She started to say goodbye, and her friend stopped her.
“Before you go, I spoke to the listing agent who is also a friend of mine. Unfortunately, I have some bad news.”
Chapter 3
“Bad news?” Harlow echoed.
“Lighthouse Lane is pending.”
“Are you serious? It must’ve just happened. I checked yesterday and it was still listed for sale.”
“I’m sorry, Harlow. I know how much you love the place.” Clicking ensued on the other end. “I’m checking the website now. The property is marked pending but contingent.”
“I wonder what kind of contingencies it includes.”
“I would contact Allie, the listing agent,” Abby said. “I’m sure she’ll be able to give you better information.”
Harlow thanked her and ended the call.
“What’s going on?” Aunt Birdie asked.
“We might as well not bother looking at the place. It just went pending. The last time I checked the website, this property was still available.”
“These deals fall apart all the time. If you really want Lighthouse Lane, I wouldn’t be so quick to throw in the towel and give up.”
Harlow unlocked the door. “I suppose. We’re here. I might as well show you around.” Starting on the main level, she gave her aunt the “grand tour,” which didn’t take long.
The house wasn’t nearly as spacious as her Malibu mansion and suited Harlow perfectly. She was looking for cozy, warm, charming, not ostentatious, showy and cold.
Reaching the upper-level balcony, the women lingered, admiring the unobstructed view of wintry white Lake Huron.
“This right here is the selling point,” her aunt said. “How much is the listing price?”
Harlow rattled it off. “It might seem a little pricey, but the view.”
“Is what I would look forward to waking up to every day.”
