The realtor
Then they noticed him. A lone man stood on the porch, tall and sharply dressed in a dark suit, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He didn’t move, just watched them as though he had been expecting their arrival. “He’s probably the realtor,” Arthur muttered under his breath, noting the man’s straight posture and the folder tucked under his arm. But something was unsettling—his face showed no warmth, no smile of welcome at all.
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