I get my bike out to ride to Santa Monica, navigating the ever-present traffic on the way to the address I know by heart. The property’s a house with ocean views—three bedrooms, white stucco, sunshine for days. When I get there, Jacob’s leaning against his car. “Nice of ‘em to let you come see the place again,” my friend comments. I pass him to get to the door, punching in the code the realtor gave me. “For the price, they should.” I put an offer in last week before the house was scheduled to go on the market, but we built into the conditions that I get another look at...