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“Ah. That explains why you’re in such a shit mood.”
I glare at my friend, secretly envious that he’s free to live his life, however and with whoever, he chooses. “Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”
“Just trying to loosen you up for when you pitch your ‘energy efficient’ ideas to him.”
Declan is my best friend, and he’s become like a second son to my father, but he’s also intuitive. He knows we’re biting off more than we can chew, but for some reason, I haven’t told him the truth about my thoughts on our progressiveness across the island.
My father’s gotten hungrier in his pursuit of land for his vacation homes, gobbling up plot after plot before our competitors can blink. I haven’t spoken up about how he runs his business because, while I find his tactics sometimes insensitive, and often old school, his tenacity is what it takes to keep a business like ours going.
Or maybe it’s simply because I know I can’t.
I click the flashing call-waiting button on my desk phone the second Margret patches him through.
“Hello, boys.” He doesn’t wait for a response before charging onward. “The meeting for our build outside of Butterfly Cove went as expected. Declan, they couldn’t compliment your design enough.”
There’s a twinge of envy when Dec grins, but I stare at the blinking dot on my desk phone as Dad continues, “We’re going to begin the demolition phase immediately.”
My response is robotic, void of emotion or excitement. “That’s great. It’s a hotspot with the tourists, so there’s no doubt it’ll be a success.”
“Of course it will, but that’s not why I’ve called this meeting with you two.” Declan places his elbows on my desk and steeples his fingers in front of his lips. “I’ve petitioned a bid to buy out a building on Seaside Avenue in Anchorage Harbor. It’s a little run-down, but it’s got good bones. I have no doubt we can get it where we want it to be in a few months.”
Seaside isn’t far from Honey Hollow where Ida lives. Only a couple of blocks away, but that’s not what has me struggling to speak. It’s how adamant he was that the harbor area was useless and not worth our efforts when he first ordered me to shut down that property.
The hair on my arms bristles as paranoia sets in.
Has he been following me there?
I’ve been careful about the time of day I visit—always before work, never after, and sometimes on the weekends if I’m not running errands or elbow-deep in paperwork between our businesses.
Arguing with my old man isn’t something I do—not since I was a young adult who didn’t comprehend the importance and safety that comes with following the rules—but I can’t help raising concern. We have lucrative properties in nearly every city in Topica Bay. Never mind that he’s just secured a million-dollar takeover in Butterfly Cove. Shouldn’t that be enough?
“With the cost of setting up Summit Estates in Keerah, it may be best to wait until the Cove project is half-developed.”
Declan offers a supportive nod.
“So our competitors can outbid us?” he says, “I don’t think so.”
“Is the property you’re looking at vacant?” I ask casually, knowing he’s going to wonder what’s gotten into me. Any further questions could be seen as a threat to my father, and while he may not have the authority to run me until my feet bleed as he had when I was younger, the urge to submit remains.
He pauses as if to consider my question. “That’s for the owners to figure out after the contract is signed.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I think it’s great that you’re thinking that far ahead. But where would I be if I bothered my conscience with every person affected by the moves I make? The owners don’t have the funds to keep the place running, and it’s going into foreclosure. That’s all you need to know.”
He’s right, of course. This isn’t the kind of business for those with a conscience, and Silas Anderson is no bleeding heart.
“Logan, if you’re going to keep Elite and Summit running one day, you need to practice removing your emotions from necessary decisions starting now.” As usual, he leaves no room for comment. “Besides, this location has one of the best views in the area, and it’ll be your first official property son.”
He emphasizes ‘official,’ as if Honey Hollow never existed. As if Declan and I hadn’t poured hours of hard work into modeling our first set of condos without his involvement, only to have him pat us on the back with a ‘good try’ before claiming the coastal color scheme was obnoxious and insisting the design wasn’t up to the Elite Properties standard.
“I’m banking on it bringing more tourists to the area. More tourists means more money for both us and Topica Bay. It’s a win-win, boys.”
Seaside Avenue could use a good sweep. Beneath all the grunge is untapped luxury condo and apartment potential, and the notion that we’re going to be the ones who make that area shine definitely has an appeal. There’s a blueprint already weaving together in my mind’s eye.
A flicker of excitement rises at the prospect of finally having my name on a building. To take a piece of the proverbial pie my father’s worked so hard creating.
What if we could breathe life into that part of town and make it whole again? Isn’t that why we’re in this business to begin with?
