Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (7 page)

Her cheeks heated up in spite of her effort to stay calm, be totally professional and businesslike. “I don’t have any idea what you mean.” It was her turn to sputter, her hands on her hips. “And that’s beside the point. He wants to buy your house, your home for the past fifty years, and make it into a B&B. How can you possibly consider letting him do that?” She sat down and pressed a fist against the couch cushion.

“I didn’t say I was going to do it, Livvy. I just said I wanted to talk to him. I did that.” He reached over and took her mug from her and put it on the table. “Now it’s time for you to bring me that offer … in writing.”

“Oh, Granddad!” she wailed.

“I told him I would look at it after talking to him. I mean to keep my word.” He stood up. “I always keep my word.”

She sighed. “I know.” She followed him into the kitchen. “When do you want to see it? Tomorrow? At the office? Or should I bring it here?”

“This is business. I’ll come to the office. Business should be done at the office.”

“But you met him here. That was business, too.”

He shook his head. “No. That was getting to know him. Sometimes you can know a business competitor better when he thinks your guard is down. Usually his is, too.” He smiled. “You didn’t think I knew that, did you?”

She smiled. “You’re a very smart man, Granddad. That’s why Grandmamma fell in love with you. She told me that, more than once.”

“Did she now. What else did she say?”

“She told me you were so handsome you knocked her socks off.” She grinned. “And that you always treated her like a lady.”

“Of course I did. Because she was one—to her dying day.”

“Do you want me to make you some dinner?”

“No. I’ve already had it.” He patted her hand. “I want you to call Mr. James and tell him I’m going to look at his offer tomorrow and you will call him after I’ve done that. I’ll see you in the office at nine sharp.” 

There was no point arguing. “All right. Tomorrow.”

“Nine sharp.” He blew her a kiss as she angled in the direction of the front door. “Chicken Soup for the Soul—guess who knew that before the contestants did?” he asked.  “Some of those people on the TV are really slow.”

“That’s because you’re so quick, Granddad.”

He waved her out and she went home not quite sure how to prepare for the next day’s meeting with Mr. Beau James.

Chapter 5

Genevieve beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Brown. How are you this fine morning?”

Robert jauntily tossed his hat onto the top of the coat rack near the door. “It is that. Would the owner of the company happen to be in?”

“She is, and waiting for you with a hot cup of coffee.” The receptionist waved him toward the open door of Olivia’s office.

“No cookies, Genevieve?”

“Sorry. Olivia told me what your doctor said.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I know, Mr. Brown.”

He winked at her, gave her a wide smile and closed Olivia’s door behind him. “There you are, and looking ever the executive in that pretty brown blouse and suit.” 

“Mahogany, Granddad. And my blouse is beige.”

“Whatever you say,
Livvy. The way the sun lights up your hair reminds me of copper. Remember when I used to call you my Copper Kid? That’s what you are today, Livvy. Are you ready to show me that offer?”

Olivia closed the door, pointed to the small conference table and took the seat opposite him, her face glum. “Here it is.” She handed him his copy. “As you can see, he’s offering you full price. I have a copy of his Elliott money check—more than one percent of the offering price.”

“Hmm. Personal check, I see. On a local bank?”

“Were you expecting something else?”

“No. But he told me he was part of an LLC. I thought maybe that was the check he’d be using, a company check.”

“He prefers a quick closing,” she continued without comment, “but at my suggestion, he’s offering you sixty days to—to—to—”

“Livvy.” He dropped his voice. “Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry. A sixty-day closing—so you’ll have plenty of time to find another place to live.” She gulped audibly. “The only contingencies relate to inspection, which is standard, and verification of clean title.” She sat back, biting her lip.

He read through the papers, sipping from his coffee mug, taking his time.

“Could I have a refill?”

She rose, refilled the mug, and returned it to the table.

“How much time is he giving me to, well, for you to get back to him?”

Olivia sighed. “He originally wrote two days, but when I told him you were coming in this morning, he said he wouldn’t object if you took until the end of the week. In case you had questions.”

“I’ve decided.” He picked up a pen then put it down again. “Or maybe not.” He twirled his pen, glanced out of the window for a long minute and back at Olivia, who seemed to be holding her breath. “I can’t sign this, honey.”

“Oh, thank you, Granddad,” she said, her words breathier than usual.  “You have no idea how happy I am that you don’t want this offer. If I’d known you were going to say no, I would have slept so much better last night.” She stood up to give him a hug.

He waved her away. “I didn’t say I didn’t
want
to sign it, Livvy.  I just can’t do it right now.”

“What do you mean?” She plopped back down in her chair, rubbing her fingers against the furrows in her brow and peering anxiously at him.

“I want you to find out if the lot has to be rezoned—make it two lots or three. One for the big house and one with the carriage house and the garden building on the other.  Once I know if that’s required, I’ll decide what I want to do with this offer.” He shoved the papers in her direction and sat back in his chair. “How long do you think that will take?”

“I’m not sure.” She resumed biting her lip.

He nodded. “Then you may want to talk to Mr. James. He told me he’s already been to the permit people at the county offices to talk about that possibility. He may know if rezoning is necessary and how much it’s going to cost and how long it will take. Call him, Livvy. Pick his brain about that. Then get back to me.” He rose, and handed her his empty coffee mug. “And if it makes sense for me to do that. Maybe if
I
pay for the rezoning, we could ask more money.”

“That’s all? That’s it?” She followed him to the door.

“For now.” He kissed her on one cheek and patted her arm. “Tell Genevieve she makes great coffee.”

Olivia watched her grandfather depart the office after chatting briefly with Genevieve and waving hellos to the other people in their offices.

Stunned, she leaned over her desk, her hands propping up her chin.
Damnation.
She sighed then picked up the phone and called Beau’s office.

The secretary with a lilting Irish accent answered.

Olivia took a deep breath and asked, “May I speak with Mr. James, please?”

“I’m sorry, but he’s in conference.”

“Oh.” Hmm. ‘In conference,’ meaning he’s in a meeting, or maybe he just had his secretary say that so nobody could talk to him. She sat up straighter, her voice cooler. “Well, then could you please tell Mr. James that the seller has not yet decided to accept his offer, and it may be several days, or longer—quite a bit longer—before he is able to do so?”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“Olivia Brown of Brown Family Realty.”  She slumped into her chair as she put the phone back in the cradle. She had time to go to the county offices if she left immediately. The ride was too short for her to strategize how she would manage this without having to resort to asking the enemy, Mr. James, Mr. Nasty Beau-ree-gaard James, Mr. Smart Aleck James, for help.

She marched into the planning department and turned her cell phone to stun as she sat down.
Granddad must know something I don’t know, something he didn’t tell me.
  She spent the next ninety minutes talking with a person in the zoning department, who gave her pamphlets to read, a form to study and return, and precious little direct assistance.

While waiting to ask questions, her cell phone vibrated several times in her pocket, but she didn’t dare lose her place in line by answering it.
They’ll just have to wait.

When she finally left the building, she spent the next several minutes listening to messages and returning calls before starting the car and heading back to the office. In between other appointments, she read the materials she had received, getting more confused with each reading.

Back in the car she went, this time to the permits department. More pamphlets, more forms, more confusion, and likely more of her grandfather’s money to spend—until an idea came to her.

It was nearly three when she returned to the office. Genevieve was at a dentist’s appointment, leaving the front desk empty. “Bruce, it looks like you and I are the only ones here.”

“Yep.”

“Could you listen for the front phone for a few minutes? I have to use mine—in my office—and I need some privacy.”

“Sure. Take your time.” Several minutes later, he poked his head into her office. “Sorry, Olivia. I got a call—gotta show a house.”

Not long after Bruce left, someone knocked on the realty office’s outer door and called out, “Anyone in here?”

Olivia heard someone step inside. She poked her head around the corner near the fax machine. It was a police officer.

“Mrs. Brown, I’m Sam Hudson.”

“Ms. Brown,” she corrected. “What can I do for you, Officer?” The smile on her face disappeared as she tried to remember where she had seen him before.

The police officer removed his hat. “Mrs. Helen Reynolds told me you and another realtor, a Melanie Holmes, work here.”

“Yes, but Melanie isn’t here right now. How can I help you?” She moved closer to where he was standing then turned back to what had been occupying her attention. “If you don’t mind, could we talk over here? I’m trying to get this fax machine unjammed. If you have questions, can you ask me while I work on it? I’ve got an appointment this evening and I can’t be late.” Before the officer could reply, she moved toward the tech room again.

He followed her. “Let me help you,” he offered, after checking the flashing lights. He opened the section where the paper was stored and removed two pieces that were accordion-pleated in the paper feeder. “Try it now.”

She did, and the machine sprang to life, smoothly spitting out a contract. She smiled at the man as she gathered the papers into a pile. “Thanks. Now what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Mrs. Reynolds said you saw Mr. Reynolds push her down the stairs. What else can you tell me about that?”

“Not much, really. Mr. Reynolds left after that. He said if we didn’t bring him an offer of at least five hundred thousand, he wouldn’t agree to the sale.” She paused and frowned. “Then he said if we didn’t stay away from his house, we wouldn’t get paid.” When the police officer pulled out his notebook, looking serious, she added, “He was probably just blowing off steam. Sellers do that sometimes.”

“So you didn’t really take him seriously?”

“
My dad always said to take any statement of a seller seriously—unless it’s obviously a joke. A seller pulled a gun on him once. That’s why he installed a panic button in his office. But, if you’re asking if I’m worried about Mr. Reynolds, the answer is no. Besides, Helen told Melanie she thinks he left town.” She left off counting the pages of the newly faxed contract and looked up at him. “What else do you want to know?”

“I guess that’s it.”

“Then I’ll see you out so I can get ready for my appointment.”

She walked him to the front door, opened it, and waited for him to exit the office.
Ten more minutes before Mr. James.
She looked down at her hands, now smeared with fax toner. She went into the washroom and was still scrubbing her hands and fingers when the outer door opened and the officer Hudson walked back in.

“I forgot my hat,” he explained, as he reached for it. “One more thing, Ms. Brown.”

“Call me Olivia. Yes?”

“Threats are threats. Sometimes verbal ones are followed up with, you know, more serious ones, more physical ones. If Reynolds comes back or calls you … if he threatens you or the other realtor again, please call us. We’ve got an APB out on him. He committed a felony when he attacked the wife. Here’s my card.”

“You think he’ll come back?” She looked at the tall policeman, his sandy hair curling just below where his hat now sat on his head. “Do you have two cards? I’ll give one to Melanie.”

He handed her another. “We don’t want him to hurt anyone.”

She nodded.  “If he comes back, I’ll have my receptionist call you.”

As the police officer was leaving, Beau entered, looking back over his shoulder in the direction the other man had taken.

Olivia’s couldn’t help but admire the image he presented in a black suit, his red tie calling attention to his white shirt, silver cufflinks sparkling at his cuffs.
The man clearly knows how to dress.

“You in trouble with the law?” He grinned. “Your grandfather implied you were a handful, but I never figured it would require the attention of the gendarmes.” His smile broadened.

What did Granddad say to him?
Trying not to sound snippy, she replied, “No, I’m not in trouble with the law. He was just asking for information.” She finished drying her hands and waved him in the direction of the conference table.

“Fiona said you have a response for me.” He clapped his hands together. “Good. Let’s celebrate over a drink at the Salmon House. It’s past dinnertime.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not? You’ve probably worked hard all day. So have I.” He paused. “And we each need to eat. I for one could use a break, to relax. How about you?” He eased toward the door. “You can give me the news—good or bad—while we watch the boats coming into the harbor.” He reached for the coat on the back of her desk chair.

The growling of her stomach reminded her that he was right. She’d had no time for lunch with all the running around, seeking permit information and the like.
How dangerous can he possibly be over dinner? And if he tries anything, I can always stab him with my fork. Besides that, he’ll be paying and I’m starving.

She sighed. “All right. Dinner. I’ll meet you there.”

“Nonsense. Let me drive. Why take up two parking spaces when one will do?”

“Then you’ll have to follow me home, so I can leave my car there.”

“Consider it done.” He grinned at her again.

There was something devilish about that
smile.
Is he thinking he can get me to agree to anything if he feeds me?
Olivia’s mind skittered over what it might be like to kiss him. She shook her head to dislodge such errant thoughts. Why was her mind going there? He was a client, for heaven’s sake. With eminently kissable lips, a chest that had to be solid with muscles that she was dying to stroke, a backside that was world-class.
What
is
the matter with me?

Then as if he wanted to reassure her that his motives were honorable, he said, “A business dinner. To celebrate. With wine.”

“With wine?” she repeated, for reasons that escaped her. But only one glass.
No way am I going to get tipsy. I’ll have half a glass to be on the safe side.
What could it hurt? Dinner and half a glass of wine, remembering that girls’ night out when she and Sally had gotten tipsy. Well, she after one glass. Sally was still going strong after two refills. She reached for her briefcase and stuffed her papers from the zoning and permit departments into it. The work she had to discuss with him. Over dinner. With wine. But only half a glass.