Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“I told you, sweetheart,” he says, walking around the opposite side of the bed. “I’m not a nice guy, and neither are my idols.”
“Batman is your idol?” I ask, settling onto the bed and accepting one of the bags.
“That one should have your egg salad sandwich and a bottle of water,” he says before answering me. “And I don’t have an idol, but I like Batman a hell of a lot more than Superman. Better outfit, more money, less rules.” He sits down and checks his bag, then takes off his boots.
We do some shuffling of bags and drinks, and soon we are sitting facing each other with our bags as plates. “What about you, Faith?” Nick asks, unwrapping his sandwich. “Apparently, my club sandwich is a Philly cheesesteak.”
“Do you like Philly cheesesteak?”
“It’s greasy and unhealthy,” he says. “Who doesn’t like a Philly cheesesteak?” he asks, not waiting for a reply. “Back to more important things. Who’s your idol?”
“At one point it was my father, but that ended. You know that. Aside from him, I have many artists that I admire. I think I told you that I really look up to Chris Merit. Aside from his talent, his family owed a winery in Sonoma, and he became so famous that it felt within my reach.”
“In reality, I happen to know that he lived in Paris when he started painting and was always filthy rich, so you two aren’t much of a comparison.”
“True,” I say. “And now it feels weird that I kind of idolized him, since I know him personally. But I did, and I still admire him.”
“He’s a good guy,” Nick says. “And talented. I have one of his paintings in my office.”
“I need to see that,” I say, about to take a bite of my sandwich when a thought hits me. “I haven’t even told Kasey I’m not going to be there tomorrow. I should text him.”
“I’d like us to take him to dinner Thursday night,” Nick replies. “We need to make him believe that I’m a co-owner, just like we do the bank.”
“Kasey, too?”
“Everyone. It’s the only way we make the bank buy into this. Is that a problem?”
“No. Whatever we have to do.”
“On a positive note and another topic to discuss with Kasey,” he says. “While you were painting, I heard from my assistant. She’s lined up a team to do the assessment at the winery, starting tomorrow.”
“Oh. Great. That was fast, but I need to warn Kasey about that, too. I need to grab my phone.” I scoot off the bed and walk into the bathroom, where I find it in my purse. Once I rejoin Nick, I text Kasey. “How soon will we get the assessment results?”
“It’s a big place. I expect it will take a few days.”
My phone buzzes, and I glance at Kasey’s reply. “All set. Dinner Thursday night, and he knows about the assessment.”
“While we’re on the topic of business,” Nick says. “One more thing. Beck, the private investigator I told you I hired, wants to install cameras at your house and the winery. And he’d rather the staff not know.”
My brow furrows. “Is there a problem I need to know about with the staff?”
“He didn’t express a specific concern, but he did stress that he absolutely doesn’t want the staff to know. It’s his job to trust no one.”
“Right. That makes sense. When does he want to do it, and how should I coordinate getting him into the locations?”
“He can get into both locations on his own.”
“Okay, well, the fact that he can get into both locations on his own says I need a new security system. But yes. Whatever he needs to do. Tell him to do it.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text message before snatching up a few chips. He is about to set his phone down when it buzzes with a reply already. He reads the message and glances at me. “He’s going to get it done tonight.” He takes a drink of water and sets it on the nightstand while I manage another bite of my sandwich.
“And he’s had no other luck on anything?” I ask.
“No, which is significant, considering his skill set. He’s concerned there is more going on than we know and someone has covered it up.”
My brow furrows. “Like what?”
“Is there any reason the winery might be worth more money than you think? Something no property assessment can find.”
“I don’t even have to think about that answer. Absolutely nothing comes to mind, and I can’t believe my father knew of any such thing. He’d have told me, or at least left the details in his will.” My eyes go wide, and I rotate to the nightstand, picking up the card. “Could this be where the answers lie?”