In 2010, C.J. and I thought we knew exactly where our next chapter would take us.

We assumed our next home would be on our family ranch.

It seemed like the obvious next step.

But the more we talked about what that move would really mean, the more we realized something important.

We loved the ranch. We simply weren’t ready to make 225 acres our everyday life. Not yet.

Admitting that brought an unexpected sense of relief.

Once we stopped trying to force the next chapter, the one we were ready for began unfolding quickly.

We had always loved Georgetown.

Over the years we had lived there, represented clients there, and Gabriel’s Overlook had been a wonderful chapter of our lives.

This time, we found ourselves drawn toward Georgetown’s older established neighborhoods.

The giant native trees. The quieter streets. The timeless character. Places that seemed to tell their own stories.

For weeks, nothing quite felt right.

Then one afternoon, we broadened our search.

Almost immediately, a new listing caught my eye. 

The property photographs were terrible.

It clearly needed cosmetic updating throughout.

At first glance, it was easy to dismiss.

C.J. smiled. “It’s pretty small… and it needs a lot of work.”

She wasn’t wrong.

During that season of our lives, alongside our real estate business, we had immersed ourselves in home makeovers.

We had learned to separate what could be changed from what couldn’t.

Instead of seeing outdated finishes, we saw possibilities.

We agreed it was worth a look.

We’d driven past Terry Lane hundreds of times over the years without ever turning down it.

I suppose we just weren’t ready yet.

As we turned onto the little half-loop street, the road curved gently to the left.

Before we had even rounded the curve, the neighborhood began revealing exactly what we had been searching for.

Towering live oaks.

A quiet street.

Homes with their own unique character.

The neighborhood had a quiet confidence about it.

This was exactly the slower pace of life we had hoped to find.

An adventure we had always wanted to experience…

…at least for a while. 

By the time we reached the driveway, we were completely convinced.

We weren’t hoping the neighborhood would live up to the house.

We were hoping the house would live up to the neighborhood.

Another Realtor was finishing a showing with buyers as we arrived.

Watching them interact, we recognized the buying signals we’d learned to notice over decades of representing buyers.

We wondered whether they had recognized the same possibilities we had.

We waited for them to finish.

As soon as they pulled away, we headed inside.

The home had been custom built in 1972. The finishes were dated. Cosmetic updating was needed throughout.

But we weren’t asking whether it was perfect.

We were asking whether it had the right bones, the right flow, and the right character.

An interior wall interrupted the natural flow of the living space. The sliding glass doors belonged to another era.

Those weren’t obstacles. They were opportunities.  The character was already there.

Then we stepped outside.

The home’s unique design immediately made sense.

It had been thoughtfully wrapped around a magnificent live oak, allowing its massive trunk and sweeping canopy to become the heart of the property.

We stood there quietly.

We could already envision beautiful landscaping, a carefully placed moonlight illuminating the magnificent canopy each evening, and countless moments enjoying everything that remarkable tree would become.

At that moment…

the vision felt complete.

We looked at each other and smiled.

Neither of us needed to say much. We both knew.

Modes changed.

We had found the right home.

Most buyers feel they’ve reached the finish line. We know we’ve just reached the starting line.

The excitement was still there, but our responsibility had shifted.

Until that moment, our focus had been discovering whether this was truly the right home.

Now our attention turned to something entirely different—learning everything we could about the seller’s situation, protecting our negotiating position, developing the strongest strategy possible, and doing everything within our ability to secure the home on the best possible terms.

Before we ever pulled away from the driveway, I called the listing broker, the son of one of my parents old Austin friends, to learn more about the situation, determine whether there were competing offers, and begin putting that strategy into motion. 

He told us the buyer’s agent who had shown the home before us had called to say their clients were going to sleep on it and would likely submit an offer the following day.

That confirmed our instincts.

The rest of our day was spent creating and presenting a compelling offer that recognized the interests of all parties.

That evening, we had a fully executed contract.

Several wonderful years later, after a chapter of life we’ll always treasure on Terry Lane, we realized the time had finally come.

We were ready for the ranch.

Looking back, we’ve often thought about that afternoon—not because it changed the way we represent buyers, but because it reflects it.

The best buying decisions don’t always begin with the house.

They begin with discovering where and how people truly want to live.

Once that’s clear…

…and the right home is recognized…

Our modes change.

Our attention shifts from helping buyers recognize the right home to creating the strongest opportunity to secure it on the best possible terms.

Helping buyers navigate that journey—from “This is the one.” to “We got it.”—remains one of the most rewarding parts of what we do.

Preparation. Positioning. Negotiation. Results.

One More Discovery

Only after purchasing the home did we learn another part of its story. It had been custom designed in 1972 by Hope Carol Varner, who was inducted into the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame in 1988. A gifted musician, singer, radio host, and lifelong ambassador of Western life and culture, she and her husband, Tex, spent decades promoting the traditions and spirit of the American West.

Looking back, it somehow felt fitting that someone who spent a lifetime celebrating the spirit of the American West had imagined a home where one magnificent live oak became its heart.