My agent told me they would not be arriving until late in the afternoon. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the cabin and there was a silver Taurus sitting in the driveway, with two people standing on the porch staring at me as I pulled up. One of them was a petite Asian woman in a smart looking pantsuit, and the other was a tall, powerfully built, scruffy looking man in jeans and a t-shirt.

 

I was somewhat irritated to see them there because I wanted to get the place cleaned up and looking nice before showing it. No one had been inside the little cabin in years, and everything inside of it was no doubt covered in dust. I swallowed my irritation and managed a smile as I approached the cabin. As I stepped up onto the low porch, the Asian realtor pounced forward, flashing a dazzling smile and holding out a perfectly manicured hand.

 

“Hi, I’m Kristina. You must be Mr. Riordan, right?” she said, actually pronouncing my last name correctly (REAR-dun).

 

I shook her hand and breathed in the flowery scent of her perfume. She had gorgeous almond shaped eyes, flawless cinnamon skin, and adorable little dimples in her cheeks. She was a knockout, even though she was only about five foot three in high heels.

 

“Yes, that’s right. I was just about to get the place cleaned up for you folks. I wasn’t expecting you so early.” I replied.

 

“Oh, that’s alright, Mr. Garrett is really more interested in the layout of the property than in the cabin itself.”

 

She gestured toward the big, grumpy looking guy. I remember thinking that I was more interested in her layout than I was in selling a house right about then. I was surreptitiously checking her left hand for any rings when old tall, dark and ugly made his way over to us. He offered a massive, scarred hand as he introduced himself.

 

“Hi there, Gabriel Garrett, nice to meet you.” He rumbled.

 

His voice seemed to start somewhere about six feet underneath his scuffed boots, and issued forth in a resonant, albeit gravelly, baritone. I shook his hand and tried not to wince at the strength of his grip. I am neither a small nor a weak man, but I knew without question that Gabriel could have crushed every bone in my hand if he’d wanted to.

 

“Eric Riordan, nice to meet you Mr. Garrett.” I said. I resisted the urge rub my hand when he released the handshake.

 

“Please, call me Gabe.” He said. “This is a nice place you have here.”

 

“I wish I could take credit for it, but it belonged to my grandfather.” I replied. “The place is old, but it’s well built. Back in Grandpa’s day, people took pride in their work and appreciated good craftsmanship. At least that’s what Grandpa used to tell me. He also used to tell me that Jimmy Carter was a communist, and that people should have to pass a written exam before being allowed to vote, so I took everything he said with a grain of salt.”

 

Gabriel laughed, and it was like listening to bunch of rocks rattling around in the bottom of a barrel. He sounded much older than he looked. I noticed that he had two thin, ragged scars that started just under his right eye and cut through his short beard all the way down to his jaw line. It occurred to me that Mr. Garrett might have been in a scrape or two over the years.

 

“Well, your grandfather had good taste in land, at least.” Gabriel said. “This cabin is in a good location.