“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but—” he starts, voice menacing. Graham opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him, knowing arguing will get us nowhere.
“I’m just doing my job, like you are supposed to be doing. Your job does not include playing favorites or aiding your son when he throws a temper tantrum because he was unable to complete a job to the agreed-upon timeline or expected quality.”
“Pulling the mayor into this was low, and you know it,” Chet says low.
“It was simply a lovely coincidence,” I say, batting my eyes. “I can’t help that he’s determined to keep Daydream Resorts in Seaside Point, knowing that it will benefit the community with the amount of tourists it will bring in to our small town.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I continue. “Now, I will say Mayor Mosely looked completely thrown back that there would be an issue with permitting, something we both know is a common problem in town anytime your son gets fired, which, again, we know isn’t uncommon. Seems to me like you’ve kept this little scheme of yours under wraps. I happen to know a lot of people in town are increasingly tired of you favoring your son’s work, and I’ve heard murmurings of them wanting to bring it up at a city council meeting.”
Chet’s head snaps up, his jaw going tight.
“Are you threatening me?”
I smile and shake my head.
“No, not at all. I’m just stating facts.”
Graham makes a noise, and I wonder if he recognizes the statement as the words he used to his son in the conveniencestore when I first met him. Chet looks from me to Graham and back again, his jaw going tight.
“Now, if you would just sign the confirmation of the opening day, then reach out to the inspector to get him out to Daytrip next week—I’m thinking Tuesday will work best for us—we can be on our way. Here, I brought you a pen,” I say, handing him a Daytrip pen. He glares at it before grabbing one of his own instead and signing the opening day confirmation paper.
“I’ll call Tom later today,” he grumbles, naming the inspector, before handing me the paper. I know inherently that the call will not be made today, but before I can say anything, Graham speaks.
“You’ll be calling him right now,” he insists, his hand moving to my lower back and warming the skin there. “We can wait.”
“That’s not—” Chet starts.
“No need to do the back and forth to figure out days and times that would work. Call him right now, and we can compare calendars easily.” Graham’s face is scary-hard, making me realize that the ire he gives to me is nothing but superficial grouchiness. Warmth from where his hand still lies on my lower back filters through my blood, settling in my belly as I realize this man has never actually disliked me.
Not if this is how he treats people hegenuinelydislikes.
“He might be out to lunch,” Chet argues.
“Never hurts to try,” I say with a cheery tone. After a moment of staring us down, he sighs, then reaches for his phone. In five minutes, we have a scheduled appointment for Tom to come out to Daytrip to approve the electrical, structural, and plumbing work. Since the fire marshal already approved us, as long as that goes okay, which, knowing Grant and his quality work, it will, we’ll be just fine to open up on time.
“Later, Maryanne!” I say to Tom’s assistant, a sweet older lady, with a smile and a wave as we head out, missionaccomplished. “By the way, I’m sorry about Graham if he was being a bit rude. He was stressed, and he’s generally a pretty grumpy guy as it is. Don’t take it personally, I haven’t fully broken him into the ways of Seaside Point yet.”
She gives me a wide grin, though Graham lets out an exasperated sigh from behind me.
“No problem at all,” she says with a wave of her hand, then lowers her voice. “I know how dealing with Mr. Stevens can be. It’s nice to meet you formally, Mr. Hawthrone.” Graham nods, then puts a hand out to her.
“You, as well. I appreciate your quick forgiveness, but I am sorry for snapping at you.”
“Already forgotten. Now you two have a great day—go enjoy the sunshine for me.”
“Will do. Bye, Maryanne!” I say with a wave, leaving the office with Graham on my heels before stepping out into the bright summer sun.
THIRTEEN
“How did you do that?” Graham asks, stopping and turning to me once we’re on the sidewalk, astonishment written clear across his face.
“Do what?” I ask, sliding my sunglasses down from my hair and onto my nose.
“I’ve been in board rooms with powerful CEOs, and most would have shit their pants, sitting in front of you while you tore them a new asshole in the most polite and condescending way possible.”
I smile wide, preening at the compliment.
“I was a fifth-grade teacher. Everyone knows teachers are much more badass than any CEO out there.”
“You handled that in less than an hour.”
