Chapter 5
5
J ace's phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. The readout said Price Realty, and he huffed out a breath. He'd called two days ago and hadn't received a return phone call yet. He was worried the building next door was already sold.
"Hello, this is Jace Marriott."
"Hello, Jace. This is Margo Price. I apologize for the delay in my return phone call to you. I hope you're still interested in the thrift shop next door. That's why I'm calling."
"Yes, it's -- I am. I'm still interested. As a matter of fact, I'd like to place an offer right away."
"Don't you want to see it first?"
"Oh, absolutely, I want to see it. We can take a look, but I'm going to tear it down, so honestly, the inside means very little to me."
A brief silence fell before Margo responded. "I can meet you there in fifteen minutes if that works for you."
He chuckled. "It does. You caught me after the dinner rush. So I'm available now, and it's not dark yet. So that's a bonus."
"Yes, that is a bonus. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
The call ended, and he pocketed his phone. He nodded as he mumbled, "Yes, finally."
He'd already checked with the bank. He already knew he could afford it. He already knew that he would bid over what they were asking if need be. He'd find a way.
He walked outside to the few straggling diners eating or chatting. He didn't have music tonight, so he could step away for a few minutes.
But he wanted to be there and walk around outside before Margo got there.
"Hey, Jace, how are you?" A couple of ladies called out.
"Hey, ladies, looking good. How was the meal?" The table of four, two couples that he'd often seen here, nodded in appreciation. The taller of the two men said, "Dinner is great, as usual."
The girls smiled and flashed their eyelashes. He chuckled. He loved flirting with the women just so far as to make them want to come back for more.
He stopped at a couple of other tables, flirted a little bit, and moved on. He strode through the inside, stopped at the bar, and waited for his bartender, Mason, to be free. Customer service was first and foremost. Always.
Mason refilled the customer's drinks and turned to see him at the end of the bar. "Mason, I'm going to be out for just a few minutes. I'll be back shortly. You got this, right?"
"Got it, boss."
Jace walked out the front door feeling confident in his staff and this new venture. He sauntered next door to the thrift shop and walked around the entire outside. He didn't see anything scary.
The landscaping wasn't much, but he wasn't worried about that, anyway. He was more worried about. Well, what was he worried about? He was going to tear the building down, so none of it mattered.
He didn't want to make it too easy, though, either, because then they might hold out for more money. He wanted this place, but he also wanted a deal.
A pearl white SUV showed up, a Lincoln no less. Nice.
Margo Price stepped from the SUV looking confident and business-like with her white slacks, her yellow billowing top, and her purse. He recognized her from being at the Sandbar after her husband's funeral with her sisters. Now he understood why it took her a couple of days to get back to him.
He walked forward and reached out his hand to shake hers. "Nice to meet you, Margo. Formally meet you, anyway. I'm Jace Marriott."
"It's nice to formally meet you, too. I believe you waited on my sisters and me the other night."
"I sure did."
She nodded. "The food was good."
"Thank you for that."
"You're welcome."
He hurried to offer his condolences. "I would just like to say I'm sorry for your loss."
He saw her jaw tighten. "Thank you." She took a deep breath. "Shall we go in?"
She said it all too quickly. Who was he to judge? People handled their grief differently. He'd lost a lot of friends in the service, and he handled each one a little differently, and they weren't his spouse. So he wasn't about to judge anyone else's grief.
Margo stepped to the door, unlocked the realtor lockbox, took the key out, and unlocked the deadbolt on the thrift shop. She opened the door and reached in to flip on the lights. She pulled open the shades and said, "Well, as you can see, things are as is. The tables, everything that's here is just the way it is. The owner has already left town and simply wants a quick sale."
He looked around, trying to look interested, but who was he kidding? He didn't care two shits about what the building looked like.
"I'll take it," he said. "I'd like to write an offer right now."
She cocked her head to the side slightly. "All right then, a man who knows what he wants.”
"That's right, I'm a man who knows what I want, and right now, I want this building."
She shook her head a couple of times and chuckled. "Well," she looked around, "there aren't any chairs or anything to sit on in here."
"How about if we go next door to the bar? I'll buy you a drink. Can we write out the offer and get it taken care of right away? I'm prepared to give you earnest money, which is over there anyway.”
She hesitated a moment and stared at him. He was a little puzzled by the look she gave him. She was beautiful. When she looked at him now, she had the most beautiful blue eyes; he hadn't noticed them the other night. Her dark hair complimented those blue eyes perfectly. She was slender, tall, tallish anyway, five foot six or so he'd say. She wore a white beaded necklace to match her slacks, a yellow and white bracelet, and the handbag that she carried matched her clothing.
She was a very polished-looking woman.
Finally, she said, "All right, we can do that. I'll just step out to my car quickly to get my laptop, and then I'll meet you inside."
"That sounds great." He stepped out of the front door and waited as she locked it. Then she walked on the sidewalk, her heels clicking. That's when he noticed that her heels matched her slacks perfectly. You could barely see them. He chuckled to himself. He was still wearing shorts and sandals from work today. Sometimes when he worked out on the beach a lot, he kicked his flip-flops off and just went barefoot.
He loved this business that he was in. Who wouldn't? He wore shorts and flip-flops or sandals every day. Beautiful women surrounded him with bikinis and short shorts. He was living everybody's vacation. People came in good moods, except for Margo and her sisters last night.
The majority of people who frequented his place were jovial and happy and looking to have a good time. He was right there for all of it. Every time the cash register chimed, he had to stop himself from grinning.
He stepped into the bar, walked around the back, and got himself a glass of water. Then he picked a table in the corner and set the glass of water down. Checking the shades on the windows to make sure there was appropriate light for her to write or type or whatever she was going to do with this offer, and then waited for her.
It was hard to sit still. When he was here, he was usually running around, getting drinks, serving food, picking up dishes, and chatting with the customers. That's how his business grew so quickly. Customers loved talking to the owner. They loved seeing the owner hustle. And, he had hustle worked out. It kept him trim. Shit, he regularly walked twenty-five to thirty thousand steps every day. Usually while carrying something.
The door opened, and Margo walked in. If the jukebox had been playing right now, that would be the song he always associated with Margo. Her long, dark hair flowed over her shoulders. It had to be warm with all that hair cascading around her. But, damn, it sure looked amazing. The white heels and slacks hung on her trim frame delightfully. The yellow was such a contrast to her dark hair he had a hard time looking away. His mouth dried, and all he could do was wave her over. He took a deep breath as she sat. Her back was ramrod straight. She looked almost uncomfortable.
"What can I get you to drink, Margo?"
"I'll just take a water."
"Are you sure? Whatever you want is on the house."
"I'm working, so," she said
"I have iced tea if you'd like that. We have raspberry and regular. I've got a variety of sodas. It doesn't have to be alcoholic."
She finally smiled, and he felt sucker punched. She was gorgeous when she smiled. As in, Oh my gosh , absolutely gorgeous.
"All right, I'll take a raspberry iced tea, please, and thank you."
"Coming right up." He hustled behind the bar as she pulled her laptop out. Watching from the corner of his eye, he noticed she got right to business.
She didn't waste time looking around, and she didn't seem to be interested in dawdling either. Excitement and nervousness coursed through his body.
He'd been working here after all, and finally, the owner decided to sell. A quick handshake deal and then a rapid, "We'll meet you at the bank, get the money, and I'll take off."
Within a week, this bar was his. And he'd busted hump since that day.
He set Margo's raspberry iced tea on the table and sat down across from her. She typed on her laptop for a few minutes. At least it seemed that long, and he started to feel foolish sitting there waiting for her to finally address him. Then he was irritated with himself for sitting here like a lap dog begging for a treat.
She finally started asking him questions. "The asking price on this place is one hundred twenty-five thousand. I know the owner is motivated. I also know there's one other person who has inquired."
He shook his head. "What are you saying? Do I need to offer more than the one hundred twenty-five thousand? Has that other person put an offer in?"
"Well, I'm not allowed to tell you that. I do work for the seller. I'm just telling you one other person is also interested."
"Okay. How about this? Offer five thousand more. Quick sale, cash, I can get the money tomorrow. No contingencies. I don't need an inspection. I'm actually going to bulldoze the place down."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Really? What are you going to do with it?"
"I'm going to expand my bar. My food business has gone crazy. We need more room in the kitchen, and I'd like the bar here to be wider so we can accommodate more people. And I need a buffer per the town council of thirty feet around the perimeter, and I don't have that with that building standing there. So I need it."
"All right. That sounds impressive. It sounds like you've thought about this quite a bit."
"I certainly have. And if that person, the other interested party, makes an offer more than mine, will someone let me know so that I can counter?"
"Well, the owner will let you know whether or not they accept or reject the offer, and if there is a counteroffer, they will counter your offer with, I assume, more than what the other offer is for."
"Okay. So it's not just going to be sold out from under me without me getting the opportunity to make another offer."
"No. It won't be sold from under you without allowing you the opportunity to make another offer. Once you have an offer in play, we'll see it through. Though if the owner outright rejects your offer, there isn't anything in play."
"Perfect."
Margo typed out things she needed. "So you don't need an inspection. You don't need a financing contingency. You just want it as is?"
"Yes, that's correct. I'm fine with all of it. The only thing I want is a clear title."
Margo nodded. "It has a clear title. I've already confirmed that with the title company, so you should be set to go."
She handed him a little handheld computer that looked like a bulky phone. It was connected to her computer. "When the X appears on the screen, please go ahead and sign your name. This is the actual offer. Closing next week. Cash. No contingencies. No inspection."
The X appeared. He quickly signed his name with his finger.
"And then this is the inspection report. Not that you need it, but I have to prove that I showed it to you."
She slid the Inspection Report across the table to him. "When the X appears, please sign that screen."
He glanced at the Inspection Report and signed his name as the X appeared.
She had a couple more forms for him to sign. Something about sewer inspection or whatnot because they're close to the beach. He didn't care about any of that, so he signed his name on all of them. And then she said, "And finally, you're giving the owner until this time tomorrow to accept or reject your offer."
"Yes, ma'am. Twenty-four hours."
She smiled and took her hand-held device back after his final signature. Her fingers brushed his lightly, and that gave him a little thrill. It didn't seem to affect her in any way, shape, or form. Maybe he was losing his touch. Women normally liked it when he flirted a little bit.
That brushing of the fingers. That was always a little flirt mode, wasn't it? Then again, she'd just recently lost her husband, so she was grieving.
She packed up her laptop. Then she finished her iced tea. "Thank you for the iced tea. Are you sure I can't pay for it?"
"I'm sure. It's on me. Come back again. I'll buy you another one. Especially if you come to tell me that my offer has been accepted."
She laughed.
He stared.
She stood and swept her hair over her shoulder. Then she strode out the door.
And he watched every single step she took. Until the door closed behind her.