Keabetswe knew right away that this was it, the house of her dreams, the place she had always wanted. She took a deep breath and let her gaze slide down the page to the price. Her eyes widened. R9000 a month in rent. Just as well she was looking to purchase. Renting was an appalling waste of money – she had learnt that from her father. Her gaze slid lower still. The asking price was R990,000. Almost a cool million.
She gulped. Forget it, a little voice in her head told her. Wait another year or two. But Keabetswe was tired of waiting. She had been putting money away every month for years in preparation for the day she found her dream house, and she could always take out a mortgage. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became.
“So!” Esme stepped out of her office with a grin, empty coffee cup in hand, on her way to the small kitchen. “What do you guys think of our new merchandise?”
Keabetswe nodded. “Excellent.”
Luke, still chattering away on the phone, gave her the thumbs up, and Radha glanced up from her computer to say, “Fabulous!”
“I’ll have new properties for everyone by the end of the week,” Esme promised, then started down the corridor.
Keabetswe hurried after her, clutching the folder. “These properties aren’t officially on the list yet, are they?”
“No. Why?”
“I want one of them.”
Her boss laughed. “I should have guessed. Okay, show me.”
Keabetswe fell into step with her and held out the folder.
“Ah yes, that is right up your alley, isn’t it?” mused Esme. “But I don’t think I pay you enough to be able to afford that kind of rent, love.”
“I don’t want to rent it,” Keabetswe explained. “I want to buy it.”
Esme paused in front of the coffee machine. “Are you sure?”
Keabetswe nodded. “I know you have to put it on the list, but I want you to know I’m serious about this. I just need a little time to sort myself out.”
“How much time?” Esme poured herself a cup of coffee – no sugar – and sipped it thoughtfully.
“I don’t know.” Keabetswe frowned. “A month, maybe?”
Esme looked at her, her eyes piercing. “Kea, you know I love you, but you also know that I love my bottom line more. In a month that house could be snapped up by someone with a little more capital.”
Keabetswe smiled. “I know. But if I pay a deposit, it’s as good as mine, right?”
Esme gave her a curt nod and walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll try and steer traffic away from it, but only for one month. No more. And I’m not making any promises.”
Keabetswe hugged the folder to her chest. I’m going to be a homeowner! she thought, and allowed herself a little laugh of sheer delight.
* * *
Keabetswe was early for the meeting with Oagile Motsumi. She parked in the huge driveway and stepped into the sun. The house in Camps Bay was an immense property that stood out beautifully against the backdrop of the ocean, but the view was probably the best thing it had going for it.
She pushed her sunglasses up, propping them in her hair, and walked to the door. There were no other cars on the property; the tenants were halfway through moving out and were almost never around unless they were collecting more belongings.
Oagile Motsumi had not arrived yet. She glanced at her watch, hoping he wasn’t lost. She was about to call him when she saw a black BMW slide into the driveway. She had been expecting something a little flashier from the architect, but the car was spotless and in mint condition. She went down to greet him.
The car pulled up next to hers. She couldn’t see anything through the tinted windows, so she stood aside, waiting for him to get out. Nervous in spite of herself, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and put on her brightest estate agent smile.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and a pair of white-clad legs stepped out. The trousers were expertly tailored and almost impossibly clean, and they fell over the tops of shiny black brogues. Keabetswe’s gaze travelled upwards to the crisp black shirt with no tie, the dimpled chin, the strong jaw, and the skin almost as dark as hers.
Then she met Oagile Motsumi’s gaze. His eyes were clear and wide-spaced beneath thick brows, and they regarded her speculatively. His head was completely shaved. He wasn’t handsome in the classic way, but he was certainly compelling – majestic, even, with his straight posture and air of mystique.
Keabetswe hesitated for a fraction of a second before approaching. Normally she could size people up pretty well and conduct herself accordingly. Oagile Motsumi, on the other hand, was a closed book. Even looking into his eyes, she had no idea what he was thinking. His face was blank, his expression neither antagonistic nor benevolent.
She couldn’t gauge his mood, so she stepped forward, hand outstretched, following Esme’s golden rule: When in doubt, play the secretary. “Mr Motsumi. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Keabetswe Rantao.”
He shook her hand, his grip firm but not too tight. “Oagile, please.” His voice was soft, but with a ring of authority.
“Oagile, then.” Keabetswe turned towards the house. “I hope you found the place easily enough.”
“I did, thank you. Shall we?” He was being rather formal. Keabetswe adjusted her approach to accommodate him.
“This way, please.” She led the way up the driveway. “As I explained over the phone, the tenants are still moving out, so please excuse the mess.”
“Not a problem.” He waited a respectful distance behind her as she unlocked the door.
For a moment she was sure she could feel his eyes on her, but when she turned, he appeared to be staring at the door. He gestured for her to enter first, and as she stepped into the house, she frowned to herself. She didn’t know what to make of him, but he had piqued her curiosity.
He remained silent as she gave him the tour, only offering the occasional murmur or nod to indicate that he was listening. Keabetswe wasn’t used to such quiet clients; they were supposed to ask questions, make comments and give her some idea of what they thought.
They stood in the master bedroom, Oagile’s eyes tracing a path across the ceiling. Keabetswe’s eyes narrowed as she realised what he was doing. He was studying the structure, trying to get a feel of the architecture. His practised eye took everything in.
The silence became unbearable. Keabetswe cleared her throat. “What do you think?” she asked finally.
He was quiet for a moment. Then his gaze dropped to her face. “Can I ask a question first?”
“By all means,” she replied in relief.
“What is your opinion?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
He waved one hand at the half-empty room. “The house. What do you think of it? Please be honest. Take this room, for instance. The shape of it, the texture of the walls, the size of the windows.”
Keabetswe swallowed hard. She had never been asked for her opinion before – it wasn’t supposed to matter. In any case, Esme would want her to extol the virtues of every house she displayed. That was her job. But something in Oagile’s manner put her at ease, and she knew she could tell the truth.
“Well, the shape is unusual, for a bedroom,” she admitted. “The rough walls aren’t my cup of tea – I’d be afraid of hurting myself on them. And those windows are terrifying, not to mention a nightmare when it comes to curtains. Imagine falling out of them onto the rocks, then toppling into the water? It’s like a perfect plot for a murder mystery.”
She