CHAPTER 19
C HAPTER 19
C urtis refused to enter the Dixons’ main office without Amiya. There was no reason to begin. Everything was founded upon her presence. Thankfully, Gloria had other business with the father and daughter. Curtis remained stationed by the front window, texting on his phone, putting out minor fires. Until he saw them.
The scene was completely unexpected. The two women, Rae and Amiya, stood at the closest intersection. They were so involved in what Amiya was saying, neither noticed when the light went green. Tourists slipped around them, a steady colorful flow, but they just stood there. Rae’s face held an almost funereal cast, so different from her normal gung-ho energy, and Amiya was scarcely any better, solemn as a judge. Then a passing tourist jostled Rae’s shoulder, and she jerked as if being forced from some desperate dream. Amiya stopped talking. They stood there through another light, the both of them captured, immobile.
Then they embraced.
When they separated, Rae settled a hand on the other woman’s shoulder and basically guided Amiya across the street. They continued toward the office, stoic and silent and so intensely focused on whatever they had discussed, neither woman noticed him watching.
He stepped back into the room’s shadows and waited as they approached the door and stepped inside. Both greeted him with calm and solemn masks, as if whatever had just taken place did not include him.
Curtis knocked on the inner door, stepped back so Amiya and Rae could enter first, and waited while they went through the introductions. He held first Amiya’s chair and then Rae’s, as formal an act as it was natural. He stepped back, or started to. But Amiya shot him a look. He pulled out the chair on her other side and seated himself.
Amiya began. “Curtis assures me that you are to be trusted. I hope you have decided to accept his offer regarding the establishment of a secondary office and that of serving as the resort’s approval process for new builds.”
Emmett glanced at his daughter, who replied, “We are honored to accept. Right, Daddy?” When her father remained silent, she continued. “Thank you very much.”
“Until a new resort manager is appointed, Curtis Gage is responsible for all operations. I hereby approve all his actions in advance. From this point forward, I will serve as an observer.”
Emmett spoke for the first time. “Why is that?”
“Two reasons. There can be only one key decision maker, if we are to move forward as fast as we intend. And need. Speed is crucial. Second, for the moment, I must remain involved in overseeing issues related to our parent group.”
She looked at him. Curtis met her gaze and felt as if the mystery he had witnessed on the sidewalk now entered this meeting. There was something different to the way she watched him now. Her lips were parted, her gaze a bottomless well. Curtis had the fleeting impression . . .
She wanted to kiss him.
Absurd. Crazy. Idiotic.
Just the same, the thought set his heart to racing.
All she said was “Please proceed.”
Curtis gathered himself and told the room, “We need a home. It should be as close to new as possible. Buy, rent, whatever works.”
Gloria pulled pad and pen from her purse. “How large, and for how long?”
In response, he asked the two architects, “If time was more crucial than cost, how long would you need to build the house you already have planned out?
“These days, it’s very hard to say,” Emmett replied. “Eighteen months to two years would be my initial guess. Maybe longer.”
“There are huge supply chain issues,” Blythe said.
“And labor constraints,” Emmett said.
“We currently have three different homes under construction that we simply can’t finish,” Blythe said.
“Marble tiles. Appliances,” Emmett said. “New exterior wind-rated sliding doors. The buyers are yelling. We’re yelling. It doesn’t help.”
“The suppliers can’t even give us a date for when the items will be delivered,” Blythe said. “The manufacturers often can’t get the necessary parts. Everybody involved is beyond stressed.”
“Say we dropped any specific requirements,” Curtis suggested. “Roof, tiles, colors, kitchen, everything. Whatever top-rated materials you can get your hands on without delay. Speed without sacrificing quality. Go with whatever is immediately available.”
“Spend whatever is necessary to bring in your best skilled labor,” Amiya added.
“Pay a top contractor to put everything else aside and focus exclusively on this project,” Curtis said. “How long then?”
Father and daughter exchanged a long look. Emmett asked, “Eleven months?”
“With no back talk or discussions over costs and components? And remember, all the permits are in place,” Blythe said. “I think we could do it in seven.”
Emmett snorted. “Now you’re into pipe dreams.”
“Eight, then.” To Amiya: “We can’t promise, mind. But I think seven or eight is doable.”
“We agree,” Curtis said. “Right, Amiya?”
“Absolutely. Please prepare the documents.”
Curtis told Gloria, “If you have a suitable rental, it’s probably best if we ask for a minimum rental period of nine months.”
“I know just the place.” The realtor was already smiling. “Why don’t we take a little trip?”
* * *
As Curtis and Amiya departed with the realtor, Rae paused in the Dixons’ front office and pretended to check her phone for messages. Blythe passed by the interior doorway, phone to her ear, and shot Rae a grin. She and her father were already talking with building contractors and their principal suppliers. New project, blank check, multiple other opportunities springing to life. It was exciting.
Then a thought struck her.
Rae stepped back to the entry and rapped loudly on the open door. Once she had Blythe’s attention, she asked, “Did anybody tell you about the gala?”
Both faces went blank.
“The dinner at the hotel everybody’s been talking about,” Rae said. “We’re invited.”
Blythe said to her phone, “I’ll call you straight back.”
Emmett just hung up.
Blythe said, “That gala is, what, a thousand bucks a pop?”
“Right. We’re all going to be at the head table. Guests of Amiya.”
Emmett said, “Is it true Chris Compton and his band are playing?”
“Who?”
“Daddy’s favorite trumpet player after Wynton Marsalis,” Blythe said.
“Who?”
Emmett said, “Lady, you need to get out more.”
“Daddy, hush.” To Rae, “What are you wearing?”
“I haven’t gotten that far.”
“Well, you better, unless you’ve got something hanging in the back of your closet that I haven’t seen.”
Emmett asked, “Is there a dress code?”
Blythe said, “You’ve heard the same as me, Daddy. Formal.”
“That does it,” Emmett said. “I’m not going.”
“Don’t give me that. You’re actually passing up a chance to hear Chris Compton, eat that fine food, meet new rich clients, all because you hate wearing a tie?”
“A bow tie. And a tux. Which I don’t own.”
“Hmph.” To Rae, “He’s going. Now when are we shopping?”
Emmett pointed to his phone. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve got work to do.”
“Will you give it a rest?” To Rae, “How about later today?”
“Works for me. Can Emma come?”
“That fine lady is invited, too? This day just keeps getting better. Daddy, stop looking like you’re having prunes for lunch. You tell Emma we’ll be by directly.”