Chapter 2 #2
She’d forgotten about that. Studied him anew at the memory.
The man, for all his surface living, had more layers than she’d expected.
Interesting. But not pertinent to the moment. Or his purpose in her life.
He was still looking at her. It felt like he was touching her, too. In what seemed to be a kind way. Unless she was self-imposing her own needs onto him.
Seeing herself starting down a path upon which she would only get lost, Dove gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to focus on the more mundane—but vitally important.
“Ladybird was Mom’s boat. She used an inheritance from her grandmother to buy it after she got sick.
She used to take me out on the water and… ”
No. Stick to the mundane.
“She left it to my father in her will—”
Emotion welled, but anything else Dove might have said was interrupted by the sound of her cell phone alerting her to a call.
A particular call.
From a problem she was tackling by begging Mitchell Colton into helping her father.
Brad Fletcher.
He’s looking for a soul to steal. The line from the famous song filled the room. She’d set the ringtone to remind her not to let the man trick her into captivity.
Fear struck her. She let the phone ring twice. She had to answer it. Wouldn’t let him think he’d intimidated her. He’s looking for a soul to steal. The line of the famous song played a third time. Giving her a boost of strength. She needed at least one more.
“Are you going to get that?” Mitchell’s voice pulled her out of her haze. Drew her gaze in his direction.
And she didn’t need the fourth ring.
Filled with confidence, she said, “Hello?”
Mitchell didn’t mean to eavesdrop. The office space Whaler had chosen for himself among the buildings on his little property was about the size of a cubbyhole.
He still couldn’t make out all of the words booming from Dove’s phone. A take it or leave it and best you’re going to get.
It wasn’t so much the words that had him tuning in. It was the tone of voice he heard over the smartphone in Dove’s hand.
That, and the way her hand was shaking.
A sign of fear or weakness at odds with her tone as she said, “I’ve told you, Mr. Fletcher, I’m not interested. Please do not call again.”
She was pushing to end the call as she issued the last word.
Timed perfectly. Like a movie scene that had had many takes and film editing to make it so.
Her phone calls were none of his business. Except that she’d asked for his help. Beyond that, he’d heard a threatening tone that had raised the lawyer in him. “What was that about?” he asked, without a hint of apology.
“Brad Fletcher. My dad won’t take his calls or open his emails, so he’s taken to calling me.
He wants to buy St. James Boats. I’ve told him multiple times that we aren’t interested in selling.
And the offer he just made was so low, no way I’d accept.
He keeps warning me about the business losing equity and that when I’m forced to sell, he’ll get it for half of what he just offered. ”
Mitchell’s radar had been up just from the man’s tone. He liked the situation even less with Dove’s added information.
“There was menace in his tone, Dove. You need to be careful. Block his number. If he shows up here, call the police.” His lawyer’s brain was going at Mach speed. They could file for a restraining order…
On what grounds? A phone call? A tone of voice? Because the man hadn’t actually issued a threat. Except by way of stating the obvious. Whaler’s business was failing. The longer he waited to sell it, the less it would be worth.
Unless Mitchell found a way to help St. James Boats succeed.
“I just need to take care of things here,” Dove said, glancing around the office. “If Dad can start turning a profit again, we don’t need to worry about the business losing value.”
Her words so oddly aligned with his own thoughts that the response popping into Mitchell’s head seemed perfectly logical.
“I might be able to help with that.”
He regretted the words the second he said them. Most particularly when Dove flew toward him. Threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
Before stepping back. “Thank you,” she said. “What’s next?”
“You go do what you normally do in a day and give me time to get that far.”
She was already heading toward the door. And Mitchell’s gut tightened. “Dove?” he called her back a second time.
She turned. “Yeah?”
“I’m serious. You be careful with that Fletcher guy. Block his number. And if he shows up anywhere near you, err on the side of caution and call the police. Tell them I told you to, if it comes to that.”
Sometimes it helped to have a big-brother cop.
With a nod, accompanied by a smile so huge it felt like another hug, the woman finally left Mitchell in peace.
And five seconds later he was on the internet via his phone, looking up every Brad Fletcher within the area code he’d been able to make out on Dove’s screen.
He might never come up with a feasible plan to get Whaler’s business back to health, but he could damned sure see to it that the old captain’s daughter didn’t fall prey to its demise, too.