A distinctive tone from Ian's iPhone told him someone waited at the gate. He decided a stroll down to the estate's entrance would do him some good. He lifted the phone, tapped the custom app, and spoke. "One moment, please. I'll be right there."
A golf cart parked within the stables would have eased his trip, but he preferred to walk. He made a good pace, with long even strides, and after a few minutes rounded the curve in the tree-lined driveway to bring the gate into sight. A man stood there, head hung, and a bit shabby. This pleased Ian. It meant he did not have to deal with pollster, salesperson, or proselytizer.
"Good afternoon," Ian hailed as he approached the gate. "Is there something I can do for you?"