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The call rang through to the conference table phone, and Brynn pressed the Speaker button to answer. “Hey Jen, this is Brynn. I’ve got CC with me. We’re just getting ready for tom—”
“There’s a fucking surveyor at Tchin Tchin,” she said, voice practically a growl.
“We already have a survey,” CC said.
“They fucking did it, CC. I knew it. I knew they were going to. Bo had to have known yesterday when I called to confirm dinner tomorrow and he still said we were a go. That fucking liar.”
“Jen, calm down a second and keep your voice down.” She didn’t know how close said surveyor was, but CC guessed close from the whispered volume of Jen’s voice initially. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She took a deep breath, and started over, volume lowered again. “There’s a surveyor here who was hired by the Mosley Group.”
“The same Mosleys that own the office building across the street?”
“The very same,” Jen said. “According to the surveyor, he just needs to mark the corners of the lot since the structure will be torn down for a parking deck.”
CC’s stomach hit the floor, a tidal wave threatening to take her knees out next. She leaned a hip against the table. “They can’t. It’s historical.”
“It’s not technically on the register,” Brynn said. Something they’d been grateful for—less paperwork and approvals—up until this point.
“Call,” she told Brynn. “Find out if we can make it happen.”
“It’s the Thursday before a holiday weekend,” Jen said.
“We have to try.”
Brynn scurried out the door while CC leaned over the phone, both hands on the table. “Sit tight, Jen, and let’s see what we can find out.”
“I’m not selling only for this place to be bulldozed.”
“I wouldn’t let you.” Technically, she couldn’t stop them, but she could strongly advise against it. She knew Jen and Etienne well enough to know they would regret selling out to see their dream handled so carelessly.
Including by Al.
Disappointment settled heavy in CC’s gut, taking up residency with the swirling coffee. She was disappointed for Jen and Etienne and for herself. But she couldn’t let the latter show; her client had to be her top priority right now. “You haven’t signed anything yet, no funds are in motion, there’s no deal.”
“I thought you said we could trust them.”
“I thought we could too.”
Chapter Sixteen
One look at CC barreling through Dram’s door, and Al figured the Vieux Carré she’d ordered as a peace offering was more likely to end up in her face. She drew the drink closer instead and took a fortifying gulp. At least it was still midafternoon, before Dram opened to customers. Only the staff would bear witness to their argument; without other patrons crowding the space, CC reached her side in mere seconds.
Eyes hard and color high on her cheeks, she shoved the barstool beside Al out of the way and crowded close. “Did you know?” she demanded, the normal huskiness of her voice morphing into a rumbling anger.
“CC—”
“You know that property means something to Jen and Etienne—and to me—and you’re just going to let Dotson sell it off for a parking garage?”
“You know as well as I do that I don’t let my clients do anything. They let me work for them.”
CC slammed her palm on the bar. “That’s bullshit! You’re practically in-house counsel.”
“But I’m not.”
A third voice entered the fray. “Whoa,” Colby said, sliding in next to her sister. “What’s going on here?”
“Professional disagreement,” Al replied quickly. She was sure CC could give a more colorful explanation that would forever damn her in Colby’s eyes, and Colby’s opinion mattered. If Al ever wanted a shot with CC, she’d need Colby’s approval.
