“Isn’t it about finished?”
“We’re in the very last stages. The painting contractor is starting on the exterior in a couple of days, then they’ll do the inside. My building contractor is putting the final touches on the interiors now. But it’s going to take some time for me to get the units rented to create an income stream. I just don’t have any money lying around right now.” She groaned and shook her head. Timing—wouldn’t you know it?
“Listen to yourself. You have to think big. Finish the building and sell it. Think of it as a stepping stone. If we secure the Cartwright property we can develop it into a high-class residential neighborhood and a golf course, maybe even include a resort hotel. Your condos are small potatoes by comparison.”
Sell her condos? What of her plans for predictable rental receipts? The building was to be her future income stream. Not only that, she’d promised Miss Emmaline she’d always have a home there. Would a new owner honor her promise? She couldn’t take that chance, wouldn’t take it. No, Ted’s plan was too risky.
“Ted, I don’t see how I can do that. I have so much riding on the building, and I’ve made promises to some of the rental tenants waiting to move back in. One elderly lady has stayed in the building throughout the renovation.”
“You need to think big. I’ll give you overnight, but we have to act fast. Once Kreisler gets wind of it, we’re screwed. I can’t keep it under wraps for long.”
“Wouldn’t Ben Kreisler be a potential partner in the deal?”
“Are you kidding me? That greedy bastard would like nothing better to have it all for himself.”
“Where will he get the money in this economy?”
“I don’t know, but he’s always been able to ace everybody in a cash deal. I’m not taking any chances. He has his own sources, and he’ll know what Cartwright’s plans are soon enough. We have to move on it. You’ve got till tomorrow night.”
Back at her desk, she stared at her messages and saw a couple more had been added. None of them seemed important enough to answer while she tried to get her mind around Ted’s offer.
Feast or famine. It never rains but it pours. If anything can go wrong, it will. And every other dang cliché I can think of.
She froze with indecision.
Dwayne rolled his shoulders and surveyed the work he, Slim, and Jack had sweated at like hogs all afternoon, hauling the stone countertops to each unit for installation the next morning. Cluny finished with the new plumbing fixtures after the last of the modular showers was positioned. They looked great. The glass man would arrive in the morning with the new shower doors.
He rubbed his lower back. Kitchens would be the last step before painters began work inside each unit. Dwayne spent the evening hours after the crew knocked off for the day personally masking woodwork and covering Miss Emmaline’s furniture and possessions with drop cloths. Carpeting would wait to be installed in individual condos until the epoxy floor coatings dried in the hallways and foyers once the walls got painted.
He estimated they had ten days max to wrap up the project. What a relief! Another contractor would finish the driveways and parking areas before the landscapers got access to the grounds. It was coming together beautifully, a month sooner than he’d promised, and under budget.
Ready to drop, he locked the building and left by the front entry. He’d parked his truck on the street so the security company could drop off Hercules and lock the perimeter fence.
His phone vibrated. “Yeah?”
“Hi, Daddy. I miss you. I want to come home.”
“Hey, squirt. You just got there.” He missed her too.
“I know.”
“Tell you what. Give it a week. If you want to come home then, I’ll come and get you. But I know Grammakat and Miss Emmaline would like you to stay a little longer. Okay?”
She heaved a huge sigh. “Okay. I love you, Daddy.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later.”
Eyes heavy and aching all over, he pulled into his driveway and locked the truck. He shed his clothes, piece by piece, as soon as he got in the house and headed for the shower.
Sitting on a plastic bench, elbows on knees, he let the hot water sluice down on him, his muscles relaxed, and tension in his shoulders and hips eased. He’d often speculated that Iraqi tribesmen who lived in some of the most parched areas of their godforsaken country might not be so enraged and fanatical if they could regularly avail themselves of hot showers.
Food, he needed food.
Cheerios never tasted better. Halfway through his second bowl, the doorbell rang. Who’d be at his doorstep this late? He pulled himself up on his crutches and glanced around for a shirt. He’d worn the one thrown on the back of a chair all day. In nothing but his pajama bottoms, he shrugged and headed for the door. Please, God, don’t let it be Francine leaning on my bell.
Hand hesitant on the doorknob, he finally turned it and pulled. He swallowed.
Marla stood in the dark holding her dog.
“Dwayne, I know it’s late, but can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dwayne took a hop back and opened the door wider. “Sure, come in. I wasn’t expecting…”
Marla stepped past him. “I know. I’m sorry, but we need to talk about the situation that came up today.” She set Skipper on the floor and started toward the living room.
“No.”
She stopped and turned. “No?”
“No.” He tilted his head. “I mean…in the kitchen. Let’s go in the kitchen. I was eating.”
Her cheeks flushed. “This is dumb. I should leave.”
“No, come on. We have to talk about it.”
“You know why I’m here?”
“Yeah.” He lifted a crutch in the direction of the kitchen. “After you.” He
