“Ms. Delgado will make the final determination. We want to move forward on this quickly, so I would expect she’ll be scheduling appointments within the next week or two. Let me just ask you a few questions, and I can let you know right now if I’ll be passing your property on to her, okay?”
“Okay.”
For the next several minutes, he answered the woman’s questions regarding location, square footage, available parking, and a dozen other particulars, thanks mostly to the notes Susan had written in her fine tip marker. The H of HRR Corporate Realty had done her homework, which explained how she managed to stay at the top of the New York corporate real estate game, year after year.
“Congratulations, Mr. Fawcett,” Val said at last. “Your property makes the cut. We’ll be in touch for more information as things develop. Thanks for contacting us.”
They each said goodbye, and Jordan hung up, then tilted his head toward the ceiling. Despite the promise of his discussion with Val, a sense of dread settled on his shoulders. He was attempting to put his future in Cam Delgado’s hands. Again.
He’d tried to be part of her world once before, only to have his heart ripped out of his chest and stuck on a pike before she kicked him out and slammed the door in his face. What would she take from him this time?
What was left? Hell, he had nothing. Not his dream career, not the woman he’d thought loved him, not even the use of his legs.
“Life,” he said aloud to the empty room, “sucks.”
CAMERON DELGADO STOOD outside the third building on their list, and a shiver of delight danced across her bare arms. The ground floor windows would let in lots of natural light, and the courtyard in the back could easily be converted into a small playground. If the interior looks half as good as the exterior, we could have a winner here. “Parking?” she asked.
Her assistant, Valerie Sullivan, checked her notes. “Twenty-three slots on the side. Two handicapped, but I think we could create at least three more with a quick redesign. It already has ramp access, and the rear doors are within width guidelines. According to the agent, this place was last used as the main office for a marine insurance company. What do you think marine insurance is for? Like, do they pay out if someone falls overboard on your boat?”
Cam snorted a laugh. “No. They insure cargo and ships and other transport used in the transfer of the cargo.”
“Well, whatever they used to do, Three Sails Marine has closed up shop. This place looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.” She flipped to the second page of her notes. “Eight offices upstairs, plus two restrooms. First floor is a large open workspace with four restrooms and a kitchen in the back. Not a cafeteria, more a small breakroom with a bank of cabinets, a fridge, microwave shelf, and one of those industrial coffeemakers that serves free sludge all day to keep the employees from going outside and running away screaming.”
This time, Cam burst into full-blown laughter. “And you would know that because...?”
“I used to work in a similar place. Before I came to the foundation. You live and die by the amount of paperwork you push out each day or how many clicks you make on your computer. It’s depressing, demoralizing, and draining.” She looked up at the building and flipped up her middle finger. “Good riddance to Three Sails Marine Insurance. Hello to us or any other company that can fill this place with joy and laughter.”
“A-men.”
Funny. She and Val worked so well together, it was hard for Cam to remember a time she didn’t have this capable, hardworking woman beside her, backing her up and keeping on top of all the minor crises that developed day after day, year after year.
She made a mental note to check Val’s current salary. It might be time to give her a raise. Cam valued her too much to lose her. Now, especially with this latest challenge: finding a new location for their Manhattan youth center. Her mind zipping through a dozen different topics at once, Cam strode around the corner, drinking in the colorful awnings and signs for the nearby shops, the proximity of the subway station, and the steady groups of pedestrians taking advantage of a beautiful spring day. Nice building, great location, She’d set aside the entire day to do a rudimentary inspection of the top ten sites on Val’s list. And here at barely nine-thirty in the morning, she might have already found the winner. Yes, Val was a real gem.
“Eleven thousand square feet, you said?”
Her assistant followed close behind. “That’s what the agent told me.”
She studied the old bricks and the cornerstone etched with a date of 1898. Any commercial buildings built prior to 1960 were approximately twelve thousand square feet, so this one was right in the ballpark.
“Put this site on the shortlist. I’ll contact the agent this afternoon. I’m going to want to see the inside.”
Val pulled the pen from behind her ear and circled the address on her sheaf of papers. “You got it.”
“Do we have a copy of the current floor plan?”
“The agent was supposed to fax it over today.”
“Well, if we don’t have it by the time we get back to the office, I’ll request it again when I make the appointment to go over the interior.”
Cam took one more quick walk-around while snapping pictures of the site from all different angles before heading toward the black car parked at the curb. “Where to next?”
“Hell’s Kitchen,” Val replied as she shuffled the stapled papers in her hand. “Ninth Avenue.”
“Great. Let’s go. You’ve done a terrific job vetting these, Val. I’m really impressed. Thank you.”
Val beamed. “No sweat. I mean, this one came to me via Ashlynn in Mr.
