Читать книгу Jewels On Tiger Island - Catherine Pickren - Страница 4

At her vantage point, and after watching him sit at the bar a good five minutes eating pretzels and drinking what looked like a Heineken beer, Mary decided it was time to find out who this stranger was. She would sit at the bar and talk to her bartender friend, Matt, who had worked at Bret’s Restaurant since high school graduation. There was an empty barstool next to this stranger, so Mary could casually strike up a conversation with him and find out his purpose for visiting the island.

The man was well-spoken with a Northern accent, had a pleasing baritone timbre voice, and he was talking to Matt about real estate in the area; especially about waterfront properties that were for sale. Having being born and raised here himself, Matt was pretty knowledgeable on this subject, so he informed this stranger about several ocean-front properties on Fletcher Avenue that were available. The man asked how much the undeveloped ocean-front properties were, and he didn’t even flinch when Matt told him he could buy a seventy-five foot ocean front parcel of land for around $500,000 on the north side, up to nine figures near the Omni Plantation Resort area.

After listening to the stranger and Matt’s conversation on real estate a couple more minutes, Mary thought this would be a good opportunity to interrupt. Not that he would be interested or anything, but she thought she would bring up the fact that the ocean-front home her parents had left her after their deaths in a freak car accident over a year ago, was for sale.

Clearing her throat, Mary said, “Hello. My name is Mary Hancock. I couldn’t help over-hearing your conversation that you were looking for ocean-front properties. I have an ocean-front home that is for sale.”

The stranger stopped eating his pretzel and looked at Mary with such an intense stare that Mary gulped. Mary had never seen a man with such beautiful blue eyes. Maybe she didn’t have any business interrupting the conversation, but since he was on the topic of oceanfront properties, hers was definitely available. She couldn’t afford to keep the property because property taxes had gone up, and they would continue to go up because of the two new schools the county was planning on building on the south side of the island.

Finally, after a pregnant pause, he spoke, “Where is your property located? I might be interested in your property if it will suit my needs”.

Mary gave him the exact address and told him that her property was located on Fletcher Avenue about 4 blocks south from Slider’s Seafood Oyster Bar and Grill. He repeated the address she had given him, took a pen out of his shirt pocket, and wrote down the address on a bar napkin. Standing, and opening up his wallet, he gave Mary a business card; put a five dollar tip on the bar; and said, “It was nice meeting you. Give me a call. I would be interested in looking at your property.” He then nonchalantly strolled over to the cashier to pay his bill and left the restaurant.

Matt broke the silence and said: “That character has a mystique about him that is hard to define. He seems like a nice enough fellow, but I wouldn’t put him in the category of ‘trustworthy persona.’”

Mary laughed and said, “You don’t even trust your own preacher’s friendly visits without thinking he’s coming over to extort more monetary contributions from you to support the church’s coffers. If he bought my house for a reasonable price, I could learn to trust him.”

Looking at the business card, she read, “John W. Fielding, III, Fielding Enterprises, Inc. of Boston, Massachusetts.” A business number, fax number, and cell number were on the card.