Chapter 2: The Real Estate Office
The gravel in the municipal parking lot crunched loudly beneath the tires of my car as I pulled up to the local real estate office on Main Street. The town was mostly shuttered for the shoulder season between the winter storms and the summer influx, save for a few hardware stores and a diner with a faded plastic sign.
I pushed open the glass door of the agency, a brass bell chiming overhead. The interior smelled of old carpet, damp wool, and commercial-grade cleaning fluid. A middle-aged man with thinning hair and a plaid flannel shirt looked up from a cluttered desk piled high with plat maps and local zoning brochures.
"Morning," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Looking for summer rentals already?"
"No," I said, stepping up to the counter and resting my hands on the laminate surface. "I have a conflict with an active reservation. The coastal property on Ocean Drive. Unit B."
The man frowned, tapping a few keys on a bulky desktop computer that hummed with a low, rhythmic rattle. "Ocean Drive? That's the Miller estate. Handled through our office, mostly managed by the family trust."
"My mother and I both have confirmations for this week," I said, keeping my voice steady. I pulled my phone from my pocket and laid it flat on the counter, displaying the confirmation email. "She has a physical printout from the registry. I have the digital booking confirmation through the shared portal."
He leaned in, squinting at the glowing screen, then reached for a heavy leather-bound ledger sitting to his left. He flipped a few pages back, running a calloused finger down a column of handwritten entries and printed ledger sheets.
"Ah," he murmured, his finger stopping halfway down the page. "Here it is. The digital portal rolled over its database in January during the server migration. Half the recurring family bookings didn't sync with the master calendar."
"So who actually has the right to the house this week?" I asked.
He looked up, offering a sympathetic, tired smile. "Legally? Whoever holds the original master key and the signed physical agreement issued by the trust administrator. The digital system is just a convenience."
My stomach dropped. That meant my mother held the winning card. She had the physical papers she had waved across the dining table less than an hour ago.
May you like
"Is there another unit available?" I asked, though I already knew the answer by the stillness of the town outside.
"Not on the water," he said, shaking his head. "Everything else is locked up until May."
