Prior to coming out here Cole gave me the name of his Realtor, Laurie, and she set up a series of viewings all over the city. There are high-rises in the downtown core, bungalows by the beach, larger units a little farther out and family homes on sprawling lots. I’d told her ahead of time that I wanted something similar to what I already had: spacious, new, high and close to the office. But when we tour apartments just like mine, they don’t feel right. They feel cold and aloof, and no amount of imported Italian marble makes a difference. The drive to Pacific Palisades takes just over thirty minutes, and Laurie looks increasingly anxious the longer we drive. Proximity to the office was at the top of my must-have list, and she fills the silence with salesman patter about why this place could work, though it’s clear to both of us she’s barely managing to convince herself. She finally shuts up when we park in front of an eight-story building separated from a sandy, busy beach by a two-lane road, and I follow her inside, wondering if maybe she’s on to something.
