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“I’m sure I can manage.”
“Mr. Anderson, um, Mike?—”
“Like I said. I would rather join my grandfather in the ground before I would just hand over that property. You can’t convince me otherwise.” Mike glanced toward the kitchen. “Shouldn’t we have our food by now?”
His lawyer didn’t move; he didn’t even blink. The guy wasn’t willing to let this go. But it wasn’t his decision to make.
Mike turned his attention to his silverware. He pulled the napkin from the bundle and placed it on his lap. The lawyer had made one good point. Mike couldn’t afford to take care of that farm all on his own. He’d have to fix up the house and sell it, which begged the question of how.
He didn’t have the best interior design skills, so he’d probably have to get some outside help with that. He couldn’t immediately think of someone who liked him enough to spend their free time in that old house.
Something crashed. The sound was enough to draw even Swanson’s attention, and they both looked in the direction of the kitchen. The hum of conversation died down for a few seconds before whirring back to life.
“You don’t think that was our food, do you?” Mike joked, but his lawyer didn’t crack a smile. “I get it, okay? You don’t think I can hack it. This isn’t my first rodeo, literally. People have always underestimated me. But you know what? I turned out just fine.”
“I’m not a stranger to your history. I’m very aware of your sordid past. While the human in me wants to root you on, the lawyer in me can’t in good conscience do that. If your grandfather had listened to my recommendations, you wouldn’t even be on the radar where this estate was concerned.”
Mike dug deep for the control he’d used so often as a teenager to keep his emotions hidden. “Are you even supposed to say something like that?”
Swanson lifted his shoulder. “Does it matter? I’m not technically your lawyer. I’m just obligated to fulfill your grandfather’s wishes. You have my opinion on the matter. If it were up to me, you’d sell to that developer and unload the mess.”
“That mess is the only thing I have left of my family,” Mike ground out. “Do me a favor and tell me what we have to do next, so I don’t have to see you ever again.”
He gave Mike a sharp nod and pulled out some papers from a briefcase he had at his side. “There are some documents you’ll need to sign. After the paperwork is all filled out, I have to submit it and get the deed transferred into your name. There will be some closing costs…” He lifted a brow. “I assume you have enough money to cover that?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Mike muttered. He probably didn’t have more than fifty dollars to his name right now, and most of his pay check had been going to his credit cards. Up until about six months ago, he’d avoided stealing anything for going on two years.
It was surprising just how addictive theft was. He probably should have looked into some kind of anonymous group. Back when he was younger, he stole for the thrill of it and because he wanted what he took. This time, it would be different. If he had to make ends meet, stealing would be for a good cause.
His stomach churned at that thought. What had his high school counselor said? He couldn’t keep rationalizing the ethics of his theft. All stealing was bad. It didn’t matter if it was for a good reason or not.
Mike shook his head. This was different. He needed to save this house, and deep down, he knew his grandfather would want him to be the one to do it. Whatever he had to do to make that happen, he would.
His fingernails dug into his palms as he rested them on his lap. The pain was as good a distraction as anything else. Once again, his focus drifted toward the kitchen. “Really, our food should probably be out by now. Do you think we should try to find our waitress?”
Swanson didn’t bother looking up from his paperwork. “As long as it comes out hot, I don’t care how long we have to wait. We’re going to be stuck here working through these documents for at least the next thirty minutes.”
There was one good thing about this lunch. After it was over, Mike wouldn’t have to see this loony lawyer ever again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rose was halfway down the alley behind the restaurant before she remembered she still had five hours left in her shift. Her whole body shook with fury after what she’d overheard at Mike’s table.
She shouldn’t have been eavesdropping and this was one of the biggest reasons. She’d left her job in the middle of her shift, and she was probably going to get fired for it. She hadn’t clocked out. She’d nearly dropped a pitcher of water on her way out—no, wait, she did drop that pitcher of water.
Rose shoved her fingers into her hair and shut her eyes tight against the unfairness of it all. First her gallery. Then her terrible job. Now Mike was giving away his family’s ranch! How could he stoop so low as to hand over that beautiful property to someone who only wanted to commercialize it?
Doubling over, she wrapped her arms around her waist and willed her stomach to settle. This wasn’t her problem. She just needed to let it go. What Mike Anderson did with his family’s legacy was up to him.
Slowly, she straightened to her full height.
No. She wasn’t going to let one more injustice, however out of her control, happen. Maybe she was crazy.
Okay, she was definitely crazy.
But she wasn’t going to let Mike throw everything away without saying her piece. Rose all but ran toward the back entrance of the restaurant, darting inside just as a busboy exited with two giant bags of garbage. They nearly collided but he jumped back in time for her to squeeze through the door as it closed.
“Rose! Your order’s up!” a voice called out to her as she sped through the kitchen. She’d come back for it. She needed to talk to Mike before she lost her nerve.
