Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
She’s on the phone when I walk up and doesn’t see me. “Yes, that’s right. Everything you have on Miss Niehaus, including any recent interest in new personal acquisitions.”
Oh my God.
He’s really not letting this go, is he?
I tell myself I don’t care, but that’s a lie.
Whatever.
If he wants the inn that stinking bad, he can make a better offer. Not that I’d actually sell Gram’s pride and joy off to either one of them.
I don’t have anything against Niehaus personally, though. She just doesn’t seem right for Bee Harbor, and I’m not sure I trust her promise to keep the property undeveloped.
On the other hand, I hate Miles more than a jellyfish sting—and I hate him even more for turning my own lips against me.
No matter how awful he is in my heart, the rest of me can’t resist another kiss.
Confusing much? Pathetic?
Yes.
But whatever.
“Can I help you, Miss Landers?” Louise peers over her spectacles once she realizes I’m standing there.
I shake my head like I’m clearing my thoughts.
“Can you please email Mr. Cromwell and have him notify the entire creative team not to make any more changes without my approval? I thought a note from the big boss versus little old contractor me might go a long way.”
“Certainly,” she says cheerfully, already typing.
Then I notice the chatter from the surrounding cubicles has stopped.
The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Um, did something happen?” I whisper.
The silence is so intense just using a normal voice feels deafening.
“He’s been holed up in a meeting for the past hour and a half. He must have just stepped out. They tend to get quiet when he’s out on the floor.” Louise doesn’t whisper.
She’s used to this. Mr. Iron Fist and his choke hold on this office so tight it curdles the whole atmosphere.
At least I’m not the only one who hates working for him.
I scoff to myself, but Louise must hear me.
She glances up. “What’s wrong, Miss Landers? I sincerely hope creative hasn’t been causing you too much grief—or a certain curmudgeonly boss.”
I blink, unsure what to say. For all I know, she’s testing me and he put her up to this.
“It’s no big deal, Louise. Just send the message, please?”
For a second, I wonder if he had another motive for chasing me down the other evening.
If Simone Niehaus hadn’t been there, and the dogs hadn’t lost their cool, maybe things would have gone very differently.
Maybe we could have sat down and had a conversation like normal human beings.
Not two crazies torn between peeling each other’s faces off, or tearing off our clothes instead.
Yeah, no.
I never should have kissed a boss-client in the first place. Stupid me.
I definitely shouldn’t be holding on to this vague hope that we could ever reach a normal understanding.
One where he sets his own greedy ambitions aside and explains why it’s the end of the world if I even dare to entertain another offer on my place.
But unless I know the ins and outs of the inn’s real value, I’ll never understand it, will I? It’s time to do some digging.
Back in my office, I call Waldo, Gram’s old attorney.
“Pinnacle Pointe Legal. This is Waldo. How can I help?”
I smile. This is why I love Pinnacle Pointe. In Seattle, no attorney answers their own phone during business hours.
“Hey, Waldo, it’s Jennifer Landers. Lottie Risa’s granddaughter?”
“I remember you, Miss Landers. What can I do for you today?” he says pleasantly.
“I’ve had two offers on the inn recently. One is twice the amount of the other offer—”
“Ah, that’s news, all right. We’re talking a range just north of two million then? I know the Pointe can’t claim SeaTac area charms or its market values, but it’s still a huge house and a lot of land with an ocean view. Glad to hear any potential buyers are taking that seriously. How about the competing offer?”
“Above three,” I whisper.
“Three million?” He lets out a long whistle.
“Yes. I know it’s a lot, but I kind of wondered what I’d be looking at after taxes...”
“I’d have to crunch some numbers, but it would certainly still be a very nice chunk of change. Wow. I’m sure we can minimize the tax bill, if you’re moving forward with a sale. There’s also a structured settlement option where the money comes in over time, if the buyer is interested.”
I can’t help grinning, even if actually signing off on any sale feels as strange and unthinkable as getting married.
“I’m glad Gram hired the right attorney,” I say.
“I do what I can. It’s been a little while since the estate was settled, so I’ll also need to research the provisions in your grandmother’s will about when you can sell.”
“When?” I’m not sure what he’s getting at.
He clears his throat. “I don’t remember anything off the top of my head specifically, but sometimes with inherited properties, there are clauses about when you can sell and who you’re allowed to sell to. It’s rather common out here, where some folks get awfully attached to their old houses. Just give me a few days and I’ll get right back to you.”