Chapter 2
Chapter Two
H ow could anyone who had lived here any length of time not want to stay forever?
Dani bustled against the wind down Main Street, Myrtle’s gift in her large brown purse that had seen better days. She was utterly alone. Everyone was either tucked away in their homes or celebrating at Martha’s on Main, one of the only eating establishments still open on the island.
The flicker of light from the wrought-iron streetlamps lent an ethereal glow to the dusty windows of deserted buildings. Dani’s breath hovered in the air as she hurried down the deserted street, past quaint shops with white-washed walls, green accented beams, and striped awnings. Some okay. Some tattered and in desperate need of replacement.
If she weren’t a local—if she hadn’t read every sign taped to the abandoned shops, thanking customers for their loyalty over the years—she wouldn’t know which were closed permanently and which were just waiting for Memorial Day, when the island officially opened for the season.
Unfortunately, there were only a handful in that category anymore. But maybe things could be different. If her plan had any merit, anyway.
Dani picked up her speed. The road curved, opening up to a brilliant view of the harbor abutting Lake Huron in the distance—and the hulking shell of her family legacy. The Grand Sullivan Hotel, burned half to the ground. An ache that never ceased pulsed deep in Dani’s chest, but she pushed it aside.
Hope. There was always hope. Especially now.
She passed Good Day Coffee and Kelley’s Bar & Grill, both of which had their signs turned to Closed, and finally set eyes on the lit interior of Martha’s on the left—nearly the last building on Main, save the public library. When she pulled open the door, a chorus of hellos rang out, and Dani was met with the mingled smells of cooked meat, wine, and chocolate. Even as she tugged off her coat and hung it on the overstuffed rack just beneath the sign that read “Check your guns, politics, and religion at the door,” the warmth of the place, of the people, enveloped her.
Now to find Uncle Seb.
“There you are.” Mia Jonathon Franklin appeared at her side and pulled Dani into a hug. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” Her petite younger cousin tucked a piece of her curly brown hair behind her ear, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Sorry. I got busy talking with my dad?—”
“Ah, say no more.” Mia turned to the wooden bar and snatched a glass of dark fizzling pop, shoving it into Dani’s hands.
Dani laughed. “He’s not that bad.” She set her gift and purse on one of the green-topped wooden stools and took a sip of the drink. Ah, Dr Pepper. Mia knew her well. Then again, despite their four-year age difference, they’d been close ever since Mia’s family had moved full time to the island when they were both kids.
“Uncle Daniel isn’t bad . He’s just…persistent.” Mia waggled her eyebrows as she took a sip from her straw.
It was nice that she still referred to Dani’s dad as her uncle, even though he hadn’t legally been that for a long time. It was Dani’s mom, Becky, who was Mia’s aunt by blood.
But Mia was kind like that. Always attuned to everyone else’s feelings. And she knew Dani’s deepest wish. Might be the only one who wouldn’t laugh at how utterly ridiculous such a hope really was.
“He is that.” Dani shook her head, her eyes scanning the room. Dark hardwood booths lined one side of the restaurant, and the square tables and chairs that sat in between the booths and the bar had been cleared out to make standing room for the party goers. “I don’t see my favorite little cousins. Are you kidless tonight?” She took another draw from the Dr Pepper, and the bite of the carbonation burned her throat going down.
“I am. Mom offered to watch them for me.” Mia blinked and smiled, but there was something falsely bright in the action. And who could blame her? At twenty-four, she’d experienced more tragedy than anyone should have to in a lifetime.
“Well, that’s great.”
Mia shrugged a delicate shoulder. “I think she wants me to get back out there, you know?”
Snagging her cousin’s hand, Dani squeezed. “There would be nothing wrong with that. If it’s what you want.”
Closing her eyes momentarily, Mia sighed. “All I want is to be snuggled up in bed with my babies right now.”
Aw, Mia. “Nothing wrong with that either. We all miss Troy, and I can’t fathom how hard the last two years have been for you all.” Especially Finn and Maggie, the latter of whom had never even met her daddy. “But I’m proud of you for coming out tonight regardless of how you feel.”
A whoop rose from the corner booth right next to the kitchen door that swung open as Jordi Chamberlain brought out a platter of appetizers that looked like Martha’s famous sliders. Dani’s stomach rumbled at the thought, but her eyes caught on a seventy-something man dancing a jig beside the booth. His arms were raised in victory while the other older men sitting with him—big-as-a-bear Stuart “Mac” MacBride, retired pastor Augo Kennedy with his familiar flat cap, and the very bald, very curmudgeonly Frank Kelley—grumbled good-naturedly, a card game spread in front of them.
“Looks like Lyle won gin rummy again,” Mia said, this time a true smile creeping onto her face.
“He always does. I’m surprised the others keep playing with him.”
“It’s a matter of pride at this point. Eventually one of them has to win.” Mia cocked her head, eyes glittering. “Dad almost had him once, but old Lyle still won in the end.”
Ooo, the perfect segue. “Speaking of Uncle Seb, where is he?”
As mayor of Jonathon Island—which was originally founded by Mom and Seb’s great-great-great-times-a-hundred grandfather, Jacob Jonathon—Seb might be talking with anyone, really. But he wasn’t there, by the small group of gossiping church ladies, or there, by the large window overlooking Main where two of the troublemaking Barrett brothers flirted with a waitress. Or there, where guest of honor Myrtle was surrounded by a few of her dearest friends, not looking a day over her seventy-one years and, in fact, looking much younger thanks to her spiked white hair and purple cat-eye glasses.
No Uncle Seb to be found. Dani tapped her boots against the tiled floor.
“Mom said he was coming,” Mia said. “Probably got tied up in some meeting or other. Why?”
“I really need to talk to him about something important.” And yes, it could technically wait until Monday, but the idea was threatening to burst out of Dani at any moment. She had to know if she was grasping at straws or if this was something actually viable.
“Sounds intriguing. Oh, look. Speak of the devil.”
A bell jingled overhead, and Uncle Seb’s tall frame filled the doorway. Though more salt than pepper, his hair was thick and full, and his shoulders were strong enough to carry the needs of the town. He was a natural leader, with his jovial wave around the room and loud, booming voice as he called out congrats to Myrtle. Then his eyes focused on Dani and Mia, and he walked toward them, leaning in for a tentative hug with his daughter.
She patted his back, a bit awkward and stiff. “Hey, Dad.”
He returned the pat and released her, then turned to Dani. There was no hesitation when he pulled her into his arms. “Danielle! So good to see you.” His Old Spice cologne tickled her nose as he smashed her against the buttons running down his collared shirt.
“You too.” Thank goodness for Uncle Seb, Aunt Elise, and her cousins. They made sure she was never alone, having her over for dinner at least once a week. Likely they felt obligated, since they were her only family left on the island.
Maybe not forever, though. Not if her plan worked.
“All right, you two have fun now. I need to make the rounds.”
Dani almost missed Mia’s subtle eye roll, but she turned quickly back to her uncle. “Actually, do you have a second to talk?”
“Sure, sure. Let’s catch up, Monday, eh? I can’t wait to see you settle into your new office. Did I tell you I’m having a new desk delivered? That old one Myrtle used is falling to pieces.” He patted Dani on the shoulder and started to move on.
“Dad.” The sharp word ejected from Mia’s throat so quickly, it threatened to shatter glass.
Dani blinked at her, and Uncle Seb spun slowly, one eyebrow lifted.
“Yes, Mia?”
“Dani has something important she wants to talk to you about. Now.”
Dani waved her hand in protest. “Oh, it’s fine. He’s right. This is a party. We can wait until Mon?—”
“No.” Mia jutted her chin. “If you say it’s important, Dad should be able to take the time for that. After all, isn’t family the most important thing, Dad?”
His jaw tightened as he blinked at his daughter, and he turned once again to Dani, forcing a smile. “Of course. Why don’t you snag that booth under the window, and I’ll be right over.”
“Sure. Thank you. It won’t take long, I promise.”
“Anything for my lovely niece.”
Once Seb slipped away, Dani shot Mia a look. “It’s refreshing to see the fire in you again.”
“Nothing like Dad to bring it out in me.” Her cousin shrugged and slipped onto the stool, soda in hand, as she moved her attention to the TV hanging in the corner above the bar.
“That’s true. You good here for a bit?”
“Of course. I’m always good.” Mia smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Dani gave her a quick shoulder squeeze. “All right, I’ll loop back around with you later.”
Mia waved her off, so Dani grabbed Myrtle’s gift and found her old boss, handing over the present and a quick hug before snagging the booth Seb had pointed out. She yanked her phone from her purse and started an internet search for more information on the small Italian village covered by the Travel Channel broadcast.
She was fully engrossed when two plates of food clattered in front of her, making her jump. Her head darted up to find Uncle Seb removing his jacket and laying it over the back of the booth before sliding into the seat across from her.
He motioned toward the plates, which were piled with mini meatloaves, chips and artichoke dip, Martha’s famous chili fries, and chicken wings. “Thought you might be as hungry as me.”
Dani set her phone back into her purse and picked up a wing. “No vegetables being offered, huh?”
Uncle Seb let loose his hearty chuckle. “Come on, Danielle. It’s a party! No need to get all healthy on me.”
“I wonder what Aunt Elise would think of that.” Taking a silverware set from the cheery yellow bucket at the end of the table, she removed a fork.
Uncle Seb did the same, cutting a tiny meatloaf in half. “I’m swearing you to secrecy.”
“Duly noted.” She winked at him before clearing her throat and sitting up straighter. She set her fork tines-down on her plate. “I’m sorry to interrupt your party. This will be quick, I promise.”
“You’re never an interruption. I enjoy spending time with my niece.” He took a bite of the meatloaf, studying her thoughtfully while he chewed. “You know who else would enjoy spending time with you?”
“She knows where I live.” Dani didn’t mean for it to sound so immature, but really. The woman who had thrown a grenade into their family fourteen years ago had no right to complain to her older brother about the fact she never saw her children.
Not that Dani’s secret wish didn’t involve Mom. It did—especially the deepest part of it. The part that was less likely to happen than the Leaning Tower of Pisa to suddenly straighten.
She sighed. “I hate that look of disappointment you’re giving me, Uncle Seb. And the bitter taste in my mouth when I think about Mom, about those years I was forced to live with her and Ryan. About the fire. All of it.”
“I know, sweetie.”
“Can we please just leave it in the past?” Her eyes wandered away from Seb and over to Jack, the scruffy terrier that belonged to the whole town and that was just now trotting from booth to booth seeking scraps of food. Martha often tried to keep him locked up when it was her turn to take him in, but maybe she was simply too busy bustling around that she hadn’t noticed his boldness tonight.
Oh, to be a dog whose biggest problem was choosing whether to first scarf down the sausage or hamburger he was currently being offered by one of Patrick Kelley’s boys.
“Dani…”
Dani rubbed her right temple and refocused on Uncle Seb. “I’m just saying, I haven’t gone anywhere. Mom’s the one who left.”
“You know that people here don’t look at her the same way anymore. She feels judged everywhere she goes.”
“Yeah, well, for good reason.” Dani’s lips tightened. This conversation was going off the rails. “As much as I respect you and your position, Uncle Seb, that’s not what I wanted to talk with you about today.”
He pursed his lips but silently took a chip and dug it into the artichoke dip. “All right. What’s up?”
Dani’s heartbeat accelerated. Which was dumb. This was her uncle. But right now, he was the head of town, the main holder of real estate on the island. If he didn’t think this idea had potential, nobody else would listen. “So as you know, I’m taking over for Myrtle as the director of tourism.”
Uncle Seb’s mouth twitched beneath his mustache, but thankfully he didn’t say that she was stating the obvious. After all, he and the town council had appointed her. “Go on.”
“I’ve found myself thinking over the last week or two about how Jonathon Island used to be so much more than this. I know we’ve had a rough few years, but I believe we can recover.” She paused to make sure Uncle Seb was tracking. His nod was a good sign. “We just need to do something radical to make it happen.”
“I’ve long agreed with that sentiment. Do you have something particular in mind?”
She smiled. “I do.” Dani launched into an explanation of Italy, of what they had done to relaunch their economy. “And we have all of those empty houses just behind Main Street. All of those empty storefronts just waiting for new business owners—business owners who would surely be enticed by essentially free housing, as well as extremely affordable rent for the first year or two.”
“I suppose that’s where I would come in?” Uncle Seb flashed her a wry smile.
“Exactly. I know renting the storefronts for super cheap wouldn’t be ideal, but it’s better than them sitting empty, right?”
“Indeed.” Uncle Seb nodded, slow, steady—just like him. But he didn’t say anything else. Just sat there, blinking at her.
Dani’s heart pitched to and fro, her muscles tightening and coiling until she could hear the pounding of her own pulse in her ears. “So, what do you think?”
“I think it’s brilliant, Dani. Simply brilliant.”
She was just about to leap to her feet and join Lyle—who, incidentally, was doing yet another jig across the diner—when Uncle Seb spoke again and deflated all hopes.
“But…”
Her shoulders tucked down. “But what?”
“It won’t work.”
“Oh. Um, okay.” Had her dream of her family all being together again clouded her judgment? “Could you tell me why?”
“I should rephrase. It won’t work on its own.”
“What does that mean?”
“The pandemic isn’t what killed our economy. It was only the final nail in the coffin, so to speak.” At Dani’s wrinkled nose, he continued, pinning her with a sympathetic look. “The decline of Jonathon Island began ten years ago when the Grand Sullivan Hotel burned partially to the ground.”
Oh. Oh .
“Now that you say it, I think I kind of knew that.” She’d been able to sense a shift back then, but she’d been so caught up in her own pain—her own sense of betrayal, of loneliness, of fear, of guilt—that she hadn’t stopped to consider the larger impact. Even now, though, the details were fuzzy. “Can you clarify how that played a role?”
“A large part of the hotel that burned was housing for seasonal staff. Once we had no place to house the hundreds of workers who came in just for the season, businesses couldn’t get as much help as they needed, which meant they couldn’t stay open as many hours. It was a snowball effect.” He shook his head. “I suppose for now we could take a handful of the empty homes and use them for seasonal staff, but unless we rebuild the Grand, we have no long-term solution.”
A buzz started low in Dani’s stomach. Rebuild the Grand? That was more than she could have hoped for. If anything could get her family back to the island, it was that. Especially James. “Great. Let’s do it then.”
Uncle Seb laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Don’t you think I’ve tried over the years? There’s one problem with that—your father.”
“Right. How could I have forgotten?” It was the whole reason the divorce and the four years between her fourteenth and eighteenth birthdays had been so terrible—the fight over the Grand Hotel, which had been built on Jonathon land but with Sullivan money. Uncle Seb and Mom still owned the land, but Dad still owned the heap of ashes formerly known as the Grand. And he had refused to sell it to the town ever since.
“What if I asked him?” Yes. Maybe. “What if I got him to sell it?”
Uncle Seb’s eyes lit, and he leaned forward—so far that his shirt nearly touched the food on his plate. “If you could do that, then I’d say you’re a miracle worker.”
Dani bit her lip. “But then who would develop it? The town hardly has the resources to invest in something like that.”
“I still have connections in New York.”
“Of course you do.” Despite now living on the island full time, he still kept one hand in the dealings at the New York-based law firm where he was partner and where her older cousin Bash worked.
“If you can get your dad to sell, then I’m confident I can find a developer willing to work with us on this.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Her uncle reached across the table, took her hand, squeezed it. “And you, my sweet niece, may just yet save us all.”
* * *
Ah, home sweet home.
Or close enough, anyway.
Liam stepped inside the twentieth-story office of Stone Development, wheeling his suitcase behind him. The familiar smell of peppermint—thanks to the diffuser on Marianne’s desk—swept over him, catching each one of his tired nerves and stretching them until they relaxed. His suitcase wheels got stuck momentarily on the lip of the plush, blue rug that Marianne insisted made the office feel cozy and “not so sterile.”
And they all knew Marianne was the real boss around here.
Speaking of the angel herself, she glanced up from her large white wooden desk and grinned. “Liam! You’re back.” The administrative assistant stood and rounded the desk quicker than he’d thought was possible, given she’d just received a new knee three months ago.
Liam offered a warm smile and pulled the woman into his arms. The top of her gray-streaked curls just barely hit the center of his chest. “I’m back.” Hopefully for a while this time—if his pitch with Dad went well. He released her. “What did I miss?”
“Oh, nothing much.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Just a whole soap opera.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Do tell.” Honestly, he wasn’t one for office gossip, but Marianne delighted in knowing everything about everyone.
As Liam rested his tired body against the desk, Marianne quickly filled him in on how Dominic and Toni had finally gone on a date. Everyone had apparently seen that one coming from a mile away. Liam hadn’t. And how Layla was pregnant and would be going out on maternity leave in about six months. And how Rob and Duke had nearly come to fisticuffs—Marianne’s words—in the break room over a project they both wanted.
Liam smiled and nodded the whole time, until Marianne suddenly giggled. “Oh dear, I fear I’m boring you, sugar.” Leaning back against the desk, she bumped the large photo frame next to her computer, which held a photo collage of her three kids, seven grandkids, and her late husband Jerry.
“What? Never.” He tried to hide the yawn behind his hand but knew the secretary had caught him. “Sorry. Had a really early flight from New York.”
“I thought as much, seeing as how you brought your suitcase with you to the office on this fine Monday morning. But honey, why didn’t you just go home and rest? You’ve been working nonstop on those two job sites for the last three months, and you logged time every weekend to boot. You’re at least owed a nap.” Marianne adjusted the sparkly white frames of her glasses and glanced down the hallway toward his dad’s office. “I know for a fact the boss wouldn’t mind.”
“Yeah, I know.” But did the hotel penthouse he shared with Dad whenever he happened to be back in Los Angeles really amount to a home? Besides, he had a presentation to prepare for. Liam shifted from one foot to the other. “I need to talk with him about something anyway.”
The phone on Marianne’s desk rang, and she settled into her chair. “All right, get on then.” Picking up the receiver, she said, “Stone Development, this is Marianne. How may I direct your call?” Though focused on her computer screen, she waved her hand at him.
Dragging his suitcase behind him, Liam resumed his walk down the hallway. Before he got to the big corner office, he removed his keys from his pocket, slipped inside his own office, and set his suitcase against the wall. It was hard to say which felt more like home—this place or the penthouse. Or rather, which felt less like home.
Because nothing compared to the home he’d once known. The one lit with warmth by his mother.
But if he could pitch the proposal successfully, maybe he could at least try to build something like he’d once had. And if he made it easier for Dad to retire in the meantime…perfection.
Shaking his head, Liam flipped on the light and moved to the desk, whipping his laptop from the briefcase hanging from his shoulder and setting it down, plugging it in. Turning it on.
A layer of dust coated the desk, the external keyboard, the mouse, and his pen holder—the only things on his desk. And the whole office smelled like an attic that had been shut up for years.
A knock sounded on his door, and he glanced up to find Travis, who looked like he belonged more in workout gear than a navy three-piece suit, with muscles bulging all directions. Liam liked to hit the gym and stay fit, but Travis was on a whole other level.
“Dude, you look like garbage.”
Liam glanced down at his suit, which was only slightly rumpled from his flight. He brushed a piece of lint off his pants. “You’re so good for my ego.”
Travis ran a hand through his styled hair. “Isn’t it already battered after playing my wingman for so many years before I found Monica? I mean, being out on the town night after night, right next to God’s gift to women…”
Liam grinned and walked toward his friend to give him a fist bump. “With a head as big as yours, I’m not sure how you and Monica fit into the same apartment.”
“Sounds like jealousy talking.” Laughing, Travis leaned against the doorway, hands slung in his pockets. “How was New York?”
“Let’s just say Phil McAllister had opinions. Lots of them.”
“Ouch. It was that kind of project, huh?”
“Yep.”
Travis hummed then knocked his knuckles against the door. “So. You ready for this?”
“Was just about to head down the hall to enact step one.”
“More like step one hundred.”
“True.” They’d been talking about this project for the last six months. Preparing. Scouting. Strategizing. But now that they’d settled on the perfect property—the Bertram, as it turned out—it all came down to convincing Dad to go for the project. Invest the funds. Let two of his head site managers take the lead and run with it.
“No worries,” Liam said. “I’ve got this.”
“Good. You know I’m on standby if you need me. And I’ve got the conference room booked for tomorrow just in case he actually says yes to hearing us out.” Travis jutted his chin toward the hallway. “You wanna do a dry run after you talk with him?”
“Definitely.”
“Sweet. I’ll be ready.” Travis nodded before heading out.
All right. Showtime.
Liam stretched his neck back and forth and trudged down the hall toward Dad’s office. When he arrived, he found Dad with his office phone in hand, the cord stretched across his desk to where his father leaned back in his bulky chair.
He always sounded larger than life on the phone, in total command.
But one look at Dad, his body heavier than three months ago, his hairline receding just a little bit more, his beard maybe just a smidge whiter than before, and Liam’s whole body tensed.
This was his only family—all he had left. And since Dad wouldn’t take care of himself, it was up to Liam. It was what Mom had wanted. Her last request.
And Liam wouldn’t let her down. Not this time.
Dad’s eyes lifted and connected with Liam, and a huge grin stretched across his tan, weathered face. He waved his son inside and continued speaking into the phone. “No, no, Douglas, you have my word—and you know my word is my bond. We will definitely meet the deadline.” He paused, nodded. “Yep, you’ve got it. All right, I’ll have Marianne contact you with the details.”
One step into the office and Liam felt the difference between Dad’s office and his own. It smelled of the familiar Styrofoam carton of Don Juan’s salsa in Dad’s trash. It was open, and air moved from the vent in the corner. A path was worn into the carpet from the desk to the window where Dad did his best pacing.
Yes, for better or worse, this office was lived in. And someday, hopefully soon, it would be Liam’s. Or partially his, because even a partial retirement would do wonders for Dad’s health.
Dad hung up and leaped to his feet with more enthusiasm than Liam thought possible. “Liam, my boy!”
“Hey, Dad.”
Dad wrapped him in a bear hug—one that just five years ago would have been much fiercer and stronger, but still had all the depth of feeling Liam had come to know from Chaz Stone. After another good thump on his back, Dad let go and stepped back. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but why are you here? You should have taken today off. I would have seen you at home tonight.” He leaned back against his desk.
“That’s what Marianne said too.”
Pressing his pointer finger against the side of his nose, Dad nodded. “Wise woman.”
“I hear that wise woman had to force feed you your pills while I was gone.”
“I changed my mind. That woman is a doggone nuisance.” Dad’s grumble was soft and laced with all the love he had for his old friend, who had been with the company from the beginning, thirty-five years ago.
Liam settled into the plush crimson chair facing Dad’s desk. It was one that his father called “half comfortable”—enough to make visitors feel welcome, but not so relaxing they wanted to stay all day. He crossed his arms. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Bah, just Douglas Kutcher out in Minneapolis. He’s a bit concerned that his renovation won’t get accomplished on time, but I assured him we have it well in hand.”
“Is that the job Jimmy had to leave early?” His wife had gone into labor just last week.
“That’d be the one.”
Hmm. “Trav or I can head on out there if you need someone to assure Mr. Kutcher we’ve got things handled.” He took a breath. Here was his opening. “Though before we do, we’ve got a project we want to pitch you.”
“Atta boy. Always on the lookout for the next client.”
“Actually, this project would be kind of different. But still a fabulous opportunity.”
Dad cocked his head, frowned. “ Different seems to be going around.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well. I’ve got a new iron in the fire. I was waiting until you were back to discuss it with you.” Dad walked to the large window overlooking downtown Los Angeles. The skyline was mostly other tall buildings, but slices of blue sky slipped through in a few places. “But tell me about this project of yours first.”
Liam stood, joined him. “I don’t want to give it all away, but basically we’ve found a property right here in L.A. that is ripe for renovation. It’s a great location, has great bones, and we’ve already drawn up plans that would make it the perfect modern retreat for the luxury traveler.”
“Sounds great.” Dad elbowed him, smiling. “So where does the difference come in?”
“We’d be the owners.”
“Ah.”
So much meaning in one little muttering. “I know that means more risk, but it also means more reward. And the price is right. The owner is willing to sell, but only to us. Because of our reputation.” Liam stood straighter. “Just say you’ll take the meeting, and Trav and I can show you exactly what you’d stand to gain.”
Dad stroked his chin, his eyes still locked on the plain brick of the building across the alleyway. “Tell you what. You indulge my request, and I’ll indulge yours.”
Liam turned to Dad, eyebrows raised. “What request?”
“The new project I mentioned. It’s a bit of a unique situation and mostly a favor for an old friend.”
“What friend?”
“Seb Jonathon. Remember him?” Dad caught his eye, his brow furrowed. “He was my college roommate at NYU.”
“Yeah, of course. We visited his family a few times in New York when I was younger.”
“Right. And I don’t know if you remember this , but he took off work for two weeks and flew out here to help with the funeral and other arrangements after…”
Yeah. He remembered that too. Liam cleared his throat. “So what’s the project?”
“Renovating a hotel on Jonathon Island. That’s where Seb and his family live now. Upper Michigan peninsula. Small town. Not really our normal place. And the deal’s different too.”
“In what way?”
“Well, look. No other developer would touch this, but we owe the Jonathons a lot. Seb, he held us together when your mother…” Dad swallowed, looked away again. Stuck his hands inside the pockets of his wrinkled gray pants. “Thing is, we will take on the initial expense of rebuilding the hotel. Then, along with the town, which now owns the hotel, we’ll sell it and split the profits. Hopefully, we’ll recoup whatever we spent on the restoration.”
“Hopefully?” Liam paused. “Dad, I respect that Seb did a lot for us when Mom died. But how can he ask you to risk our company’s reputation and financial security? We have to provide for fifteen employees.”
“Now, I’m not entering into this deal lightly. I’ve thought about all of that, and I think there’s great potential there.”
“Why do they even need us to do this? Can’t they just hire us like any other client?”
“The town has had a big economic setback after the pandemic. The hope is that rebuilding this hotel will bring tourism back.” Dad rocked on his toes, blew out a breath. “But of course, nothing’s guaranteed.”
“In other words, we might completely lose our shirt with this thing.”
“It’s a minor possibility.”
“Dad—”
“I’ve already made up my mind, Liam. We’re doing this. If we don’t have loyalty, we’ve got nothing in this life.”
“Yeah, Dad, I know you’re loyal, and you’ve created a good business by remaining that way. But you’re so close to retirement. What happens if this deal goes south and it somehow bankrupts the company?” Liam started to pace, then stopped, looking Dad dead in the eye. “I know you. You’d rather take care of your employees than yourself if that ever happened. And you’ve already shown that you will work yourself ragged to the detriment of your own health.”
Dad frowned. “That was one time, Liam.”
“Yeah, well, one time was enough.” And next time? Dad might not be so lucky.
His dad placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Son, I know there’s a lot at stake, which is why I need you to be the one to go. It’ll mean more to Seb if a Stone goes.”
“I’m not changing your mind on this, am I?”
“I don’t know if you realize this or not, but your old man is stubborn.”
Liam huffed out a laugh. “Think I caught that.” He lightly punched his dad in the upper arm. “All right, Dad. I’ll go. But it sounds like this is a multi-month project. And I can’t stay that long. Not if I’m going to head the California hotel project here with Travis.” He lifted his eyebrows in challenge.
His dad chuckled. “Methinks the stubborn apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Yes, fine. You go, get the project started, draw up the plans, and stay until they’re approved. Once demo starts, we’ll get Rob out there. Hopefully we’ll be in, be out, and make a tidy profit in the end. And I’ll feel good about repaying an old debt.”
Liam’s heart rate started to slow. Okay, fine. He could do this and probably be back by the weekend. With a few late nights, he could draw up the most modern and luxurious of hotel plans in his sleep.
Especially with the right inducement. “So you’re willing to consider our proposal when I get back?”
“Absolutely.”
All right then. “When do I leave?”
“That’s the thing. I need you on a plane bound for Jonathon Island tomorrow.”
“Good thing I’m already packed.”