Owning a house on the peninsula is a second job, and three of our downtown deliveries are for exactly that. A couple restoring an 1820s single house south of Broad, whose AI carries every Board of Architectural Review submission, contractor and inspection through a renovation that would otherwise consume their lives. Another couple who closed on an 1890s single house with a three-inch disclosure packet and a termite bond folder, and now have an AI that holds every warranty and maintenance date and acts before anything lapses. A homeowner on Tradd Street converting his 1840s carriage house into a guest suite under historic-district rules.
The businesses here are hospitality and retail, nearly all of them owner-run. A second-generation walking and carriage tour company whose AI rebooks an entire afternoon of tours ahead of a thunderstorm before the first guest thinks to complain. A woman running three boutique properties, starting with a twelve-room inn on Church Street, whose rooms are now priced against the event calendar on their own. A seventy-eight-seat restaurant on Cannon Street where the phone, the reservation book and the host stand finally agree.
King Street shows up again and again. A running store owner who coaches forty-three marathoners and ultra-runners, each on an individual plan that adjusts itself from their watch data. A small-batch roastery on upper King with forty-two wholesale accounts and one thirty-kilo machine, whose weekly roast schedule now builds itself. A two-store women’s boutique that moves every stranded size between King Street and Coleman Boulevard overnight. And on Spring Street, a three-person interior design studio whose AI reads every vendor acknowledgment the day it arrives.
If you live or work on the peninsula, the lab is about twenty minutes up the Ravenel Bridge or I-26. Bring the AI you already use, and the paperwork that comes with an old house or a busy shop. Everything happens in person, and you pay after the work is done.