The agent was Carla Bennett, local, practical, and allergic to sentiment when it got in the way of facts. Frank recommended her. We met at the house. I let her in with my own original key because I had hired a locksmith the week before and changed the lock back myself.
She walked through each room, took notes, opened windows, checked storage, and stood on the porch looking at the water.
“It’ll move fast,” she said. “If you want it to.”
“The market is that good?”
“Lake Norman in June? Custom lakefront home with a dock and western exposure?” She looked at me over her sunglasses. “Yes, ma’am. It’s that good.”
She named a price.
I named a lower one.
She frowned. “You can get more.”
“I know.”
“You want a fast sale?”
“I want the right sale.”
We listed it at three hundred forty thousand.
Nine days later, I had three offers.
One from an investor who wanted to “maximize lakefront potential,” which is a phrase that should get a person slapped.
One from a couple who wanted to turn it into a vacation rental.