Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
My jaw drops. “You can’t be serious. There are people lining up to get in those homes, families who need them waiting on them to be completed. And the people building it. They need to work so they can support their families.” Incredulous, I stare wide-eyed at Aunt Chrissy. “What are you thinking?”
I’ve known for years that my Uncle Jed is basically the villain of Cold Springs. He’s proven it time and time again, and there’s no love lost between us. Aunt Chrissy’s basically been a nonentity, important only in relation to her husband. She’s simply “Jed Ford’s wife,” not herself. With this move, she’s going to instantly become That Chrissy Ford, the woman making people homeless. It won’t be completely accurate, but little things like precision don’t matter with town gossip.
“That I have to take care of myself first,” Chrissy says haughtily. “And I deserve every penny.”
“Mrs. Ford.” If Oliver could slap duct tape over Chrissy’s mouth right now, I think he’d do it.
“Every penny? Or Jed buying out your equity in the company?” I clarify.
Oliver tilts his head casually, or more likely, wanting to seem casual as he glazes over what Chrissy said. “That is one possibility. Another is that Mrs. Ford will buy out Mr. Ford and retain ownership of the company.”
“You want the construction company?” I honestly never considered that. Why in the hell would she want a construction company she knows nothing about running? She’s never set foot in the door, or onto a single job site. I don’t think she’d know the difference between a screw and a nail, though it sounds like she’s about to use both on Uncle Jed to fuck him over.
“Those are ongoing discussions, but at this stage, we simply wanted to notify you that building at Township will need to stop. Immediately.”
“I see.” I don’t see a damn thing other than a long night poring over the contract with Ford Construction Company looking for any loophole I can find to keep things moving while Jed and Chrissy figure their shit out. There are provisions for delays, of course, related to materials, labor, and market fluctuations. There are clauses for the construction company going bankrupt or closing completely.
But a legal battle over ownership that puts the entire project at risk for an undetermined length of time?
I don’t think I ever considered that when drafting the contract. And it’s coming back to bite me in the ass in a big way. Like a crocodile chomp.
Oliver stands, and Chrissy copies him, though she has a toothsome smile while his lips are pressed tightly together. “We’re on our way to the courthouse to file the paperwork, but wanted to give you a heads-up.”
I nod, not thankful in the slightest. But the good manners my mother taught me take over, and I escort them to the door.
Chrissy straightens her face to something akin to sadness as she slips her sunglasses back on and strides down the hallway. Oliver pauses, moving in closer to me and saying quietly, “I hope you understand that I have to keep my client’s best interests in mind. This isn’t personal.”
“Of course,” I say robotically. It might be strictly professional to him, but it’s hugely impactful for the town, and for my success as the city attorney. That makes it extremely personal to me.
He must take my answer as agreement, because he visibly relaxes and smiles warmly in relief. “Good. In fact, I’d hoped that maybe we could have dinner tonight and talk about something other than the case? Mixing business with pleasure is difficult, but it can be done . . . with delicate care.” His voice has gone husky and intimate, almost breathing the words to me.
I look up at him in shock. He can’t be serious, right? But he’s staring at my lips hungrily, like he might kiss me right here in the doorway of my office.
Have I fallen down some rabbit hole into weird world? One where Chrissy Ford of all people becomes an evil mastermind? And lawyers who cut my knees out from underneath me one moment ask me out in the next like that was some sort of twisted foreplay?
I know that happens. I’ve seen married attorneys, one of whom is a prosecutor and one a defense lawyer, battle it out in a courtroom, engaging in all sorts of verbal warfare, and then go home together like it was just another day at the office. But I’ve never experienced it.
Can I separate what Oliver is doing for Chrissy’s interests from his obvious interest in me? Do I even want to?
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Oliver that he can take his invitation and shove it up his ass and around the corner, but a tiny voice in my head stops me.
It’s dinner, Wren. Don’t make it into such a big deal.