Chapter 11
JACK
Jack sat in the library across from Charlie, staring at the thick manila envelope on the desk between them. His hands were clenched into fists on his thighs, and he could feel his jaw aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth.
The offer from Victor Martin, delivered via Simon Bennett’s law firm, sat open on the desk. Jack had read it three times now, and each time his blood pressure had risen a little higher.
“This is insulting,” Jack said, his voice low and dangerous. “Two million dollars for a property that’s been in my family for four generations. A property on prime beachfront real estate that’s worth at least six million, probably more.”
Charlie nodded, her expression grim as she reviewed the documents. “It’s a lowball offer. Deliberately so. They’re counting on you being desperate enough to accept it.”
“But that’s not even what makes me furious,” Jack continued, flipping to the pages stapled behind the offer letter. “Look at this inspection report they included. Where is the updated report?”
Charlie pulled the report closer and began reading aloud.
“Structural integrity compromised throughout the second and first floors. Extensive termite damage in multiple rooms. The electrical system is outdated and potentially hazardous. Plumbing issues in guest bathrooms. The building is not suitable for occupancy without major repairs estimated at one point five million dollars or more.” She looked up at Jack, her eyes sharp. “This report is dated two months ago.”
“Exactly,” Jack said, nodding. “Where is the report from a week ago?”
He pulled up the PDF from his phone and handed the device to Charlie. She read through it quickly, her frown deepening.
“This says the building is structurally sound,” Charlie said. “There are still minor cosmetic issues. Some aging fixtures that should be replaced for aesthetic reasons, but nothing dangerous. No mention of termites. No electrical hazards. This report gives the inn a clean bill of health.”
“How long does it take to file a report like this?” Jack’s question was rhetorical. He knew how long, and there was no reason why Vincent’s team wouldn’t have it.
“Can I send this to myself?” Charlie asked, already typing on his phone.
“Yes, of course,” Jack said.
Charlie forwarded the document to her email and handed the phone back to Jack. “I’ll find out if this new report has been filed.”
She pulled out her own phone and dialed. Jack watched as she waited for someone to answer, his stomach churning with dread.
“Yes, this is Charlotte Burke. I’m an attorney representing the Christmas Inn on Anastasia Island. I need to verify some inspection records for the property.”
Charlie paused, listening. Jack couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but he could see her expression growing more concerned.
“The property address is 1247 Ocean Boulevard. The owner received an inspection report dated December 15th from George Hartwell. I’m calling to verify that the report was filed with your office.”
Another pause. Charlie picked up her pen and started making notes. “I see. And when was the last official inspection on file for that property?”
Jack leaned forward, trying to read Charlie’s face, but she had put on her lawyer expression. Neutral. Giving nothing away. He couldn’t hear anything from the other side either.
“Can you tell me about George Hartwell’s current licensing status?” Charlie asked.
That question made Jack’s heart sink. Why would she need to ask that?
“I understand. One more question. The property owner called your office a week ago to report that the required repairs had been completed. He was told an inspector would be sent out within one to two weeks. Can you verify that the notification was received and logged?”
Charlie was quiet for a long moment, her pen moving rapidly across her notepad.
“I see.” Her voice had gone very calm. Too calm. “And what is the current status of the property’s operating permit?”
Jack felt his hands start to shake. He gripped the arms of his chair.
“They don’t have anyone available until when?” Charlie’s eyes met Jack’s, and he saw something there that terrified him. “I see. Thank you for your time.”
She ended the call and set her phone down carefully on the desk.
“Charlie,” Jack said, his voice coming out hoarse. “What did they say?”
Charlie took a breath. “Jack, tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning. Two months ago, when you first got the permits.”
“Two months ago, I filed for the renovation permits,” Jack said.
“The city sent an inspector out. Just standard procedure for major work. The inspector found all the issues we already knew about. The old termite damage that had never been properly repaired. The electrical system that was outdated. Plumbing problems. He documented everything.”
“And you were given a deadline in which to fix everything?” Charlie prompted.
“I was given sixty days to complete the major safety repairs,” Jack confirmed. “Electrical, plumbing, and structural issues. Then I had to notify the city when the work was done so they could schedule a follow-up inspection.”
“And you did notify them?” Charlie was jotting points down on her notepad.
“Yes,” Jack said firmly. “A week ago. I called the building department and told them I had finished all the major repairs on their list. They said they’d send someone out within a week or two.”
Charlie made a note. “Who did you speak to?”
“I don’t remember the name,” Jack admitted. “It was just whoever answered the phone at the building department.”
“And how did George Harwell get involved?” Her eyes narrowed as she watched him intently. Giving him the uncomfortable feeling that he was under interrogation.
“The day after I made that call,” Jack said. “George called me and said he was coming to do the inspection the next day. I was relieved. George has been doing construction work in St. Augustine for decades. Everyone knows him.”
“During that phone call, what exactly did George say?” Charlie asked.
Jack thought back. “He said he was scheduled to do the inspection and asked if the next day worked for me. I said yes, and then I asked him if he still did property assessments. I explained that we were behind schedule on the last three rooms and I wasn’t sure about the extent of the damage from the old flood. ”
“What did George say to that?” Charlie was writing as she asked, her eyes on her notes.
“He said he didn’t do assessments officially anymore, but he’d make an exception for me,” Jack said. “As a favor. He’d look at those rooms when he came to do the inspection.”
“And the next day he came here?” Charlie’s eyes met his.
Jack had to force himself not to squirm at her intense stare. Like she could see right through him. Reminding him of when he was a kid and his mother would grill him for doing something wrong.
“Yes. George spent hours here. He went through everything. Checked all the electrical work, the plumbing, everything on the city’s list. Then he looked at Rooms Nine, Ten, and Eleven.” Jack answered.
“And then what happened?” Charlie asked.
“The day after that, George emailed me his report,” Jack said. “The one you sent yourself. It was an official report stating that everything passed. All our repairs were up to code. And those three rooms were structurally sound. They just needed cosmetic work.”
Charlie was quiet for a moment, studying her notes. Then she looked up at Jack. “Jack, according to the city’s records, George Hartwell’s inspection license was revoked a year ago. He’s not a registered inspector anymore.”
Jack felt like he’d been punched. “That’s not possible. George has been doing this for thirty years.”
“I’m sure he has,” Charlie said gently. “But his license is no longer active, which means any inspection he conducted has no legal standing.”
“But he was here,” Jack protested. “He did the work. He checked everything.” He glanced at the door. “As Holly and Logan.”
“I believe you,” Charlie said. “But Jack, the city didn’t send George Hartwell. They have no record of dispatching him to your property.”
The room seemed to tilt. Jack gripped the desk. “Then who sent him? How would he have known…” He started getting a bad taste in his mouth.
“Both very good questions,” Charlie said. “But there’s more. According to their records, your call a week ago notifying them that repairs were complete was never logged in their system.”
“I called them,” Jack said. “I know I did.”
“I believe you,” Charlie repeated. “But somehow, that notification never made it into their records. Which means as far as the city is concerned, you missed your sixty-day deadline to complete the repairs and file the proper documentation.”
Jack felt cold dread spreading through his chest. “What does that mean?”
“It means your operating permit has been suspended,” Charlie said quietly. “When required repairs aren’t completed within the deadline, or when proper notification isn’t filed, the permit is automatically suspended pending reinspection.”
“Suspended,” Jack repeated. The word felt like it was choking him. “So I can’t operate the inn.”
“Not legally,” Charlie confirmed. “Not until an official city inspector comes out, verifies the repairs were completed, and issues a new clearance.”
“But they’re coming, right?” Jack grasped at that hope. “You said they’re sending someone.”
Charlie’s expression told him everything before she even spoke. “Jack, they don’t have any inspectors available until after the New Year. The earliest they can schedule someone is the second week of January.”
The room went completely silent. Jack could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
“But the Winter Ball is in three days,” Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We have guests checking in tomorrow. Every room is booked through the New Year.”
“I know,” Charlie said.