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Dhara high fived her. “That’s the spirit. “You know the old saying, you got to think big to be big!”
Go big or go home.
There was definitely a pattern here.
*~*~*
Lauren had time to think on her drive over to Waterbury Real Estate. Only a handful of people knew about her trust fund. Nate had just asked about her finances and she’d skirted around the issue. It’s not that she didn’t feel comfortable with Nate, but talking about her trust fund always made her feel…strange. It wasn’t the sort of thing you blabbed about to just anyone. “Oh, by the way, I have almost ten million dollars in a trust fund my grandfather set up for me! Pretty, cool, huh?”
Momma and Daddy had cautioned her from an early age that talking about money was not only “vulgar” (Momma’s word), but could be dangerous as well (Daddy’s precaution).
Tom knew about it, of course. But he’d always insisted they make their own way as a couple. “It’s your money,” he said.
She was grateful for it, naturally. Who wouldn’t be? But it was an awful lot of money. In some ways, it would be easier if it was a lot less. Then she wouldn’t feel this huge responsibility to not blow it. More than likely, though, if she was really going to start up a business, she was going to have to dip into that fund. Either that, or take out a business loan. But a bank would want collateral, and the only real security she could offer was her trust fund, so either way, it was putting the money at risk. Whatever she decided to do, she’d have to think about it long and hard. That was for sure.
She pulled into the strip mall parking lot in front of the real estate company, and had just gotten out of her car when she spotted an all too familiar and unwelcome red Ferrari parked a few spaces down. She walked around to the back of the car. MY OTHER TOY HAS TITS.
Was Ted Ferguson insane? She’d have thought by now he’d have the good sense to take that off his car. How had he gotten away with that bumper sticker without being mauled by a swarm of angry feminists? The urge to key his car, though childish (and probably illegal) was overwhelming. But Lauren wasn’t about to stoop to his juvenile behavior. She glanced around the parking lot. The only other businesses in the strip mall besides the real estate company was a nail salon and a ballroom dance studio. Could Ted be getting a pedicure (not that there was anything wrong with that), or leaning to do the samba? Most likely not. Which meant he was probably inside Waterbury Real Estate.
Her pulse kicked up a notch. She hadn’t seen Ted since that disastrous night at The Harbor House. But she was an adult and more importantly, she could act like one as well. She put on her happy face and opened the door.
A pleasant looking young man in his early twenties sat at the reception desk. “Can I help you?” She recognized the voice from the phone. ANDY in caps was written on his name tag.
“Hi, Andy. I’m Lauren Donalan. I lease the property on Beach Street, right next to The Bistro. I was wondering if Orla Butterfield was available. I realize I don’t have an appointment but I was hoping to catch her. I just need a few minutes of her time.”
“Orla is with someone right now, but if you don’t mind waiting, she can probably see you when she’s done.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” She took a seat in the small reception area and began reading the latest issue of People magazine.
“There’s a coffee machine down the hallway,” Andy said. “It’s a Keurig. Help yourself. We have tea and hot chocolate as well.”
Despite that she’d just had some tea, she wouldn’t mind another cup. “Thanks, I think I will.” She found the coffee machine on a small table nestled against the wall between two doors. Both doors were unmarked, but one was ajar and clearly the restroom. The other door, however, was closed. She was searching the K-cups for the tea when she heard the murmur of voices.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
Lauren stilled. That was clearly Ted Ferguson’s voice. No doubt about it. She put her ear to the door. A woman’s voice, quiet and conciliatory in tone spoke next, but Lauren couldn’t make out her words.
Then Ted laughed. But it wasn’t a nice laugh. Then he said something else (speak louder, dang it!). Next came the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. She jumped back just in time to avoid getting banged on the head as Ted flung open the door and stormed out in the hallway.
“What the—” He stopped and looked at her as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“Just getting some tea!” Lauren said cheerfully. Her pulse was still on overdrive. “What are you doing here?” she asked in what she hoped was an innocent voice.
“Conducting business. What do you think?” He didn’t ask her what she was doing at Waterbury Real Estate, which Lauren thought was kind of strange. But maybe not. Ted seemed awfully ruffled for someone who was just “conducting business” as he put it. Maybe he was miffed because he thought she’d overheard him lose his cool. Or maybe he was still harboring a grudge over their last encounter. She wouldn’t doubt that about him.
Orla Butterfield came up behind Ted. “Ms. Donalan, isn’t it?” There was a puzzled expression on her face.
Lauren had only met Orla Butterfield a couple of times. She was in her early sixties, with short gray hair and an athletic build. “Good memory,” Lauren said. “I hope you don’t mind, but Andy thought you might be able to see me. I just have a few questions for you about my lease.”
Ted and Orla exchanged a pointed glance. “I’ll be in touch soon, Mr. Ferguson,” Orla said to him.
“You do that.” Ted gave Lauren a long look then stomped out the office. Once Ted had gone, Orla’s demeanor instantly relaxed.
“Please have a seat,” she said to Lauren.
Lauren took the chair across from her desk. “I won’t keep you long, I just wanted to go over a few details on my lease. I know it doesn’t expire till October, but—”
“I’m actually happy that you’ve come by. The owner is most likely going to be selling the property. So, unless you’d be… interested in putting in a bid, then I’m afraid we’ll have to play the lease by ear. Right now, everything is up in the air.”
