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I roll the figure around in my head for a minute, thinking about everything that kind of money could mean for Sasha and me. "Eight and a half million is a decent start, Jon. I'll have to do some financial projections and consult with my legal counsel to make sure it's a fair offer. Do you have a card? I'll reach out to you in a couple of days."
Jon fishes a thick piece of plastic out of his back pocket and hands it over. Flicking my gaze to him, I note his smug expression; he's pleased with the way this conversation has progressed.
"I'd be very happy to close the deal, and I know we'll make great things happen here. An increased economy, better quality of life, a tourist destination rivaled only by the big cities, that's what's in store for this area," he explains with excitement, swiping a thumb across his bristly mustache.
Harper slaps the table with both hands, but Jon is oblivious, focused on his purpose.
He extends his hand. "Mr. Reynolds, thanks for giving my offer some serious consideration. I would love nothing morethan to sit down to discuss the acquisition with you after you've discussed it with your people. I look forward to hearing from you soon."
My heart is torn. The seething look on Harper's face brings a wash of guilt over me. I really wasn’t going to give his offer any thought. But that was a generous price for the resort, and it would afford me greater financial security for the future.
"You can't really be considering this," she scoffs as soon as Jon is out of earshot.
My eyes follow him as he makes his way toward a handful of ladies on the far side of the balcony with a casual stroll. His slick hair and wide stature remind me so much of the suits I worked with in the city.
"I... well, you heard his offer, right? That's eight and a half million dollars, Harper. Can you imagine? I'd have enough money to secure Sasha's future."
"Your parents would never forgive you. You just signed the paperwork weeks ago,” she points out. "You don't think he came straight to you because he knew they'd shut him down? What about me? Doesn't my future matter at all, or that of the staff? We're like a family here. Do you want us all to just disappear, lose our jobs, and the whole resort be destroyed?"
"You always bring emotion into business; that's your issue."
I guess that sets her off. She stands up so fast I flinch from the sound of her chair's legs scraping against the tile. She takes off down the stairs. Mom sees her movement and approaches me.
"What was that all about? What is going on?”
I'm so blown away at how quickly the night turned that I can't even respond. I just shake my head, stand and hurry in the direction of Harper.
Chapter nineteen
HARPER
As I peeled out of the parking lot of the resort last night, I caught sight of Deacon in my rearview mirror. I didn’t want to talk to him. But I couldn’t sleep all night thinking about what happened. The resort is everything to me. It is, in fact, the only thing I've had since my parents passed. And now it's being pulled out from under me. Of course, I got emotional. Just because Deacon can compartmentalize things doesn't mean I should have to shut that part of me down.
I gave my job one hundred percent, and he's about to toss it all aside. I know he's thinking about what that money could do for him and Sasha. I can't blame him for that. But he forgot about everyone else. I hadn't expected my night to end with another fight with Deacon. Sometimes, we’re just so different in our thinking that it makes things difficult. He’s been in the business world for years, but the resort isn’t business to me, it’s like home.
Now, in the morning light, my anger cools as I realize that all is not lost. Deacon is many things, but he is not a heartless,greedy man. He has been working hard his entire adult life, pulling hours that most people couldn't even consider. He's a human being, and I have no doubt that by this point, he's tired. All he wants is to spend some time with his daughter and rest comfortably.
But I also know the competitive side of Deacon. He enjoys his work and pushes to be the best at what he does just as much as I do. It would only take him a couple of months to get restless. And as soon as he had some time to think through what he'd done, he would regret it. Maybe if I could remind him of how much his family's resort means to everyone in Greenwood and how much it means to him and his family, he'll come to his senses.
So, I’m heading to his door, gripping a box of bakery pastries I picked up on the drive over. I might not have won his heart with last night's fancy dinner, so I’m attacking his mighty sweet tooth. If I can just deliver these treats and appeal to his better nature, we might just be able to salvage this relationship and this situation.
When I knock, Sasha opens the door in her pajamas, looking sleepy but altogether curious. "Harper! Come in. Dad's in the shower."
I almost take a step back, but when I meet her eager expression, I draw the box out from behind my back and hand it to her. "Breakfast? I made sure they put in a few lemon custards since I know they're your favorite."
Her eyes light up and her nose twitches as the sweet aromas from the box waft over her. "Thank you, I love them! Are you gonna eat some, too?"
"I didn't have them toss in the crullers for nothing," I tease, stepping into the living room after her.
"That's right," she recalls. "Crullers are your favorite. Daddy's, too. I guess I can see why. They're pretty good."
"Hey, I'm the one who introduced them to your father," I wink. "Many, many years ago. Lead the way, sweet girl. I've never been here before, remember?"
I follow her through the living room, taking in the high ceilings, a two-story wall, covered in countless photographs, and elegant glass features surrounding the rooms and windows. White plush rugs and tall drapes line the floor-to-ceiling windows, and above are crystal chandeliers. It's amazing.
Sasha guides me into an expensive kitchen, fit for a model home. My eyes seek out the fridge, searching for the artwork Sasha bragged about her dad hanging, and there it is. She wasn't exaggerating. I pause for a moment to look over a drawing she’s made of the resort. Seeing it through a child’s eyes captures my heart.
"Sasha, these are lovely!" I compliment her, and the six-year-old bounces on her toes proudly.
