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“I’m not ready to walk away. As I said, I’ve already spoken to the Templetons. They’re sending their deal liaison to meet with the easement holders and reach an agreement. I’m confident in her ability.”
“She?”
“Yes.”
“You know her well? On what are you basing this confidence?”
This conversation was getting off track. “I just spent a week with her at Tradewinds. The negotiation is in good hands.”
“This is business. Never trust your future to someone else. I don’t care how good her hands are.”
Definitely off track. “Good-bye Luc.”
“Au revoir. I must call your mother and ask if you are my biological son.”
An old joke. Rafe rolled his eyes and disconnected. With the sun sinking below the horizon, he sacrificed the last of his pretzels to the birds and debated calling Chelsea.
The debate took a whole two seconds. He dialed. He wanted to hear her voice.
She picked up on the second ring. “I’m sorry,” were the first words out of her mouth. She sounded tired and stressed. He could relate.
“About the easement? It’s not your fault.”
“You wasted a week here at Tradewinds, spent money on attorneys to draw up contracts and conduct due diligence.”
“Finding these types of issues is the purpose of spending money on attorneys and conducting due diligence. Nothing’s wasted so far.” Even if the deal fell through, he’d never consider those six days with her a waste.
“Oh. I assumed you were calling to tell me St. Sebastian intends to back out.”
“No. Not when a quick negotiation might put everything back on track.” What was she wearing? He let his imagination roam while he spoke. “If MILC won’t agree to transfer the easement, then the deal won’t work. However, I understand the Templetons are sending a captivating representative to meet with them and work out a transfer. In fact, I hear she’s irresistible.”
Chelsea laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “She’s in over her head. You’ve got a lot at stake here, personally, so I think it’s only fair to tell you I’ve never met these people, I don’t have the first clue what they want, and I don’t have much to offer. John and Evelyn can’t afford to throw money at them. Improvements to the Tahiti resort are driving this divestiture. If the Templetons can’t walk away with the originally anticipated profit from the sale, they can’t do the deal.”
Shit. He could feel her anxiety through the phone. He’d taken the wrong tact with his “irresistible” comment, and piled on the pressure. “Look”—he broke off to cough, and then took a sip of his scotch to ease his dry throat. “I recognize who’s got the bargaining power. MILC has nothing to lose by refusing, and, by all accounts, very little to gain by agreeing. But if they’re open to granting a transfer of the easement, under reasonable terms, I know you’ll get it done. You’re a good listener and a born fixer. On the other hand, if they’re not, they’re not, and nothing you, me, or anybody else says will change their minds.”
Silence met his statements. Finally, he heard her tenuous reply. “Wish me luck on Wednesday.”
“How about I go with you?” The offer flew out of his mouth before his brain vetted it. He couldn’t afford the time away. Not now, with the Las Ventanas re-launch looming and the resort in the hands of a general manager incapable of overseeing a simple staff meeting, much less a full-blown re-launch. But Chelsea needed someone. “I can personally assure the MILC representatives that St. Sebastian will protect and care for their stretch of land as diligently as the Templetons did.” Another cough scratched at his throat until he was forced to let it out. “I’ll fly over Tuesday.” He’d make it happen, somehow.
“Rafe, you just got home. You’ve got responsibilities at Las Ventanas, and you sound like you’re coming down with something. You can’t fly to Maui to hold my hand. I can convey your assurances.”
“I’m not coming down with anything, and I’m not coming to hold your hand. I’m coming to…take notes.”
“Ha. You wouldn’t have the first clue how to take notes. You talk and everyone around you takes notes.”
“Shows what you know. I’m an exceptional note-taker. It’s one of my underappreciated talents. See you Tuesday.”
“Rafe.”
“Chelsea,” he said, giving her name the exact same inflection she’d given his.
She sighed. “See you Tuesday.”
He smiled, and raised his glass to his lips before he remembered he’d already emptied it. “Oh, and Chelsea?”
“What?”
“Told you I’d call.”
