We love our home. We know we got a super sweet deal. And we know we wouldn't have gotten it without Carly. We were among those who offered on a short sale on Queen Street at the end of this spring. We're not developers. Not flippers. We just wanted a home in this cool, historic stretch four blocks from the mighty Cape Fear River. It was such a good deal, mainly because of neglect and renters with dogs who had made a odorous mess of the home. It was so overgrown outside, but once you looked past the mess inside, you could see how solid it was. We saw what it could be. So did Carly. Then came three months of ups and downs, surprises and seemingly impossible hurtles to get the title clear and get the property ready for closing. She stayed right after it. Always upbeat and confident. She never missed a call or email or text. She'd prod here, ask questions there, pleasantly but firmly nurturing it along. Because of her steadiness, my bank extended the rate lock-in significantly, saving us tons of money over the next decades. Carly brought so many personal touches. She reminded me of the character Deets in "Lonesome Dove." "Cheerful in all weathers. Never shirked a task. Splendid behavior." If you had been there, you would've said, 'no way that's going to happen.' But it did, at 318 Queen Street. Some of my friends who know the real estate market here are amazed it happened like it did and, especially, at the price we paid. We love our home. And Carly.