Chapter 12
Harrison
Pop, pop, pop.
The reverberation from the nail gun against my arm is taking a toll. While I was unfortunate enough to break my dominant wrist, utilizing my left arm for everything has caused my body to ache in places I hadn’t thought possible. Construction is definitely easier with two hands.
“Boss, you trying to give yourself heat stroke?”
Putting the nail gun down, I stretch my free arm overhead to work out the spasm that’s developed there before giving Gino a curious glance. “What’re you talking about now?”
“You’ve been out here all day. You need to go take it easy for a while.”
“We’ve all been out here all day.” I exaggerate the all. “That’s what we do.”
“Nah, man. We all take breaks. No one can work nonstop in this heat without a break. You’ve been doing it all week. You even eat lunch up here. Are we still that far behind?”
Dragging my sweaty palm down my face, I allow my shoulders to slump. How had I thought these guys wouldn’t notice? “We’re catching up,” I mutter. “But, yeah. You’re right. I’ll go take ten.”
Carefully hanging on to the ladder with my good hand, I gingerly make my way down each rung. The ache of my stiff muscles as I grip the hot metal is more noticeable than it was even ten minutes ago. I’m going to pay for this fucking week.
As I walk into the pop-up shelter, I reach into the cooler for a bottle of Gatorade and plop into a folding chair. This last week has done a number on my head as well as my body. My mother hasn’t been herself. Joyce admitted she hadn’t been eating and has been hard to rouse from bed. On top of that, the letter I received from Outer Banks has been wearing on me. How do I walk away from an offer like that? But the biggest stressor… Harlow.
Why the hell hadn’t I gotten her number before she left The Wild Shrimp the other night? I walked away from that place happier than a butcher’s dog. Had I been so completely overcome by the nearness of her it fried my brain?
Realistically, it never dawned on me I wouldn’t be able to get in touch with her. I mean, she has to walk right by me to get to work. Yet I haven’t seen a glimpse of her all week. She’d said she had Guard duty last weekend. Had I assumed it was only Saturday and Sunday when she was away for longer?
All I know is, Gino might be right. If I continue to stand up there from sun up to sun down, just to chance seeing her again, I might die of heat stroke.
How pathetic would I be if I went inside and asked if she was working? Nah, I don’t want to harass her here. Sheesh, it’s pathetic. I’m in my thirties and have no game.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Mindlessly, I reach for my phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, I was trying to reach Harrison Hightower.”
“You’ve got him.”
“Hi. I’m Braxton Hill. I’m the chief operating officer in charge of development at the Outer Banks Seafood Restaurant Group. I’m following up regarding the letter we sent you recently expressing our interest in working with Hightower Construction on a chain of high-end seafood restaurants.”
I shift in my chair. Why hadn’t I looked at the caller I.D. before answering the phone? Now I’m completely on the spot. My brain is half melted from being in the sun all day. Nothing about this conversation is going to go well. “Yes. Hi,” I stammer. “I received your letter. Thank you. It was an honor, honestly.”
The line grows quiet momentarily. I’m sure this guy is thinking if it’s such an honor, why the hell haven’t you called us?
“I’m sure you are hard at work, so I won’t take up too much of your time.”
Shit. Is he going to tell me the letter was a mistake? It was supposed to go to someone else? It would make sense. As disheartening as that would be to hear, at least it would take the stress of this decision out of my hands. I’ve got enough to worry about with Mom in her own home. I just don’t know how to make an opportunity like this work.
“Is there a chance to meet for dinner? I’d like to share our vision with you in person. I think your company would be a great fit for what we’re trying to achieve.”
Hell, he really means me. How had this happened? I try to think quickly. “Sure, Mr. Hill. I apologize for not getting back to you sooner. With the recent storms blowing through the keys, this hospital expansion has taken all of my focus lately.”
“I completely understand. And call me Braxton. I’m only in the area for a short while. Are you available tomorrow evening?”
“Yes. Name the place.”
“Why don’t we meet at The Conch House? Say 7:00?”
Wow. I’ve heard of that place, but never had a chance to indulge. It’s about forty-five minutes away, but if the reviews are correct, it’ll definitely be worth the drive. Wish I could say meeting with Braxton is equally motivating, but I still have no idea how this is going to play out. By all intents and purposes, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. How do I walk away from this without regretting my decision for the rest of my life? “Sounds perfect. Thank you for reaching out. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.”
As the call disconnects, I allow my head to drop back between my shoulders. The timing couldn’t be worse. Maybe Gus is right. I should talk to Joyce and see if she’d be willing to travel with us. But hell, Mom’s in her own home and not eating or wanting to get out of bed. Moving her somewhere else, even temporarily, would only amplify whatever she’s going through.
“Dude, you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on you,” Gus greets.
Sitting upright, I adjust myself in my chair and attempt to massage the achy muscles in my neck. “Feels like it most days.”
The wretched sound of metal against asphalt cuts through my overwhelm as Gus drags a chair to sit directly in front of me. “Look. I see you, man. We all do. You need to take some time to live. Appreciate this life. Yes, your mother is sick. Yes, you are trying to manage this business almost single-handedly. Yes, you work in construction and broke your fucking wrist. But, man, you’ve got so much more to be grateful for.”
Maybe it’s the heat getting to me, but I’m having a tough time following him.
“Do you know how many men your age would love to own a company like this? One where it’s making a profit and people are lining up for you to work with them? You did this, Harry. You.”
Fuck. He’s right.
“And it sucks about your mother. It does. I lost mine to a bad car accident when she was only in her thirties, man. I’d give anything to have her here with me. Even if she didn’t know who I was.”
His statement hits me square in the chest like an anvil. Damn, I’m a self-centered fucker.
“Shit, Gus. How did I not know that?”
“I don’t talk about it. It’s too hard to think about. I try not to let my mind even go there unless it’s her birthday, my birthday, or Mother’s Day.”
“I’m sorry, man. You’re right. About all of it. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself.”
“Listen, I’m not judging you. And you have every right to feel overwhelmed. I mean, your dick probably hasn’t gotten any action in months. That alone is worth feeling sorry for yourself.” He chuckles.
He thinks he’s joking.
“Hell, Gus, this opportunity with the Outer Banks could be the best thing that’s happened to Hightower Construction. Do we even have enough manpower for something this big?”
He leans back in his chair and pours cool water from his bottle over his hair before shaking it out like a dog in a puddle on a hot summer day. “You haven’t even met with them yet, right? Sit down and find out what they’re looking for. We’ll come up with a plan. Then you can make a proper decision. Right now, your emotions are guiding you.”
“You’re right. But, to some degree, they have to. I just don’t want to do anything that’s going to make life even harder for my mom. And if she’s not doing well, I’m not doing well. I can’t afford any distractions if I take on something of this magnitude.”
Gus stands from his seat, walks over to the cooler to grab a wrapped sandwich, and turns to me. “You need a clear head. Sit down with them. Find out what they’re looking for. Then we make a plan. A business plan, and a mom plan. There has to be a way to make this work. Get your slack ass little brother to come help more. Maybe she stays home with Joyce, and you fly home once during the week and weekends.”
I rub the stubble on my chin. He’s right. I haven’t been thinking with a clear head.
“You need to get laid, man. Clear the cobwebs off your dick, and you’ll be thinking clearer in no time.”
“Harrison, it’s great to finally meet you.”
I reach out to shake Braxton’s hand, feeling much more optimistic about this dinner after Gus’s pep talk yesterday. “Likewise.”
Taking a seat at the table covered in white linen, a single flickering candle located in the center of the table, I let my eyes roam about the space. It’s not at all what I expected. The Conch House evoked images of a rustic raw bar serving oysters on the half shell, conch fritters, and fried clams. But this place is anything but.
There’s a glass wall along the back of the restaurant which overlooks the Florida Bay. With that backdrop, who needs ornate decorations? The floors are a dark, rich, wide plank oak that extends to the walls, giving them a warm juxtaposition against the cool water visible through the wall of windows. An enclosed glass case to the left of the bar houses their daily fresh catch options. And it appears they offer delicately prepared sushi and sashimi as well as raw bar delicacies here.
After we order a round of cocktails, Braxton reaches into his briefcase, retrieving a manilla folder. “I’m excited to share our plans for this venture. I think you can provide some good insight into what Floridians and travelers to the area will enjoy about these smaller eateries. We want to make it an experience, not simply a restaurant. Something they’ll remember and share with their friends. A top tourist destination to add to their list whenever they return.”
Braxton is radiating optimism with each word he utters. I haven’t seen anyone quite this excited about a build in a long time. But why would he think someone unknown to him could bring his vision to life? “I’m sorry to interrupt. I can’t wait to dive in to all of your mock ups, but I need to ask. How did my name hit your radar? I don’t recall working on a project affiliated with your group before.”
He lets out a chuckle. “Well, in a way, you have. You came highly recommended to me by Margaret Montgomery. She said you’d worked on numerous projects together. Not only did your company receive high praise from her, but she also spoke exceedingly of your altruism, your pride in your work, and the creativity and self-confidence that you could bring individuality to each project. Giving each site their own personality, so to speak.”
My mouth hangs ajar, my eyes wide as I listen to him sing my praises. This has caught me completely off guard. Is he for real? I mean, I love Ms. M, but this is beyond anything I could’ve hoped for.
“Not to mention your work ethic. The desire to go beyond the client’s need for basic satisfaction is what truly sold me. She said it’s essential you feel personally fulfilled in the completion of each build before you can move on to the next. Having seen the properties you’ve worked on, that was enough for me.”
Sitting back in my chair, I have to forcibly keep my ass in my seat or else I might jump onto this chair and pump my fists in the air. I’m tempted to excuse myself so I can call Ms. M and thank her right here and now, but Gus’s voice suddenly breaks through my euphoria.
You did this, Harry. You.
The rest of the evening continues in spectacular fashion. Braxton has incredible ideas for this restaurant chain. I’d be crazy not to seriously consider this. If nothing more than the fun I’d have working on it.
As our evening comes to a close, Braxton settles the bill and gives my hand a firm shake.
“Thank you. I’m honored you’d not only reach out to me by letter, but that you’d take the time to follow up and meet me in person to discuss your vision. I’ll give this serious thought, Braxton.” I hesitate for a moment. Do I tell him? This could be career suicide, but my gut is telling me to explain my indecision. “I try not to mix business and personal, but I feel I owe you this much. My only reluctance is my mother.”
He gives me a perplexed look, and I fear I may be oversharing. But I’m trusting my instincts on this one.
“My mother has advanced Alzheimer’s. She’s only fifty-nine. It’s become more progressive in the last few years and has required some major life adjustments for me to provide her with the care she deserves.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Harrison. My grandfather had Alzheimer’s. He was one of the most influential people in my life. I’d never met anyone smarter or more capable. So, I understand how painful it can be to watch them turn into a very different person as it takes over their mind and body.”
Shocked. I’m utterly shocked.
I have to take a moment to regather my thoughts before continuing, as it’s rare anyone, other than those in the medical community, has been able to relate to what I’m going through. Sure, people are understanding. But until you’ve lived it, you have no idea the impact this really has on not only the person with dementia, but the people who care for them.
“Yes. Exactly. I’ve hired a full-time nurse. But I have to make decisions carefully, given the domino effect. I can’t do anything to make her situation harder than it already is.”
“She lives with you?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t need to know the whys. That she’s been the sole constant in my life.
“It’s commendable, what you’re doing. We tried to keep my grandfather at home, but it became too much of a safety risk.”
I nod, knowing that day may come for me as well. “Yes. For now, we’ve been able to make this work. But I’m sharing this because if I have to walk away from this incredibly generous opportunity, please know the decision wasn’t an easy one.”
His eyes hold mine, and I see understanding and images of a future I could’ve never imagined lie within them. Both his salt and pepper hair and the fine lines near his eyes give homage to a life a few decades beyond my own. I suspect he could be old enough to be my father. But unlike most who speak of my mother, the look reflected back at me isn’t pity. It’s pride.
It’s hard to explain, but in this brief moment, I can see far beyond this meeting. There isn’t a doubt in my mind I’ll be working with Braxton for years to come.
After wishing him farewell, I hang back to revel in the evening a little longer. I need to follow Gus’s advice. Get some clarity so I can make an honest to God business plan and then consider what might be possible with Mom. There has to be a way to make this work. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about anything. Okay, a week ago when I was dancing with my little mermaid. But this is a close second. Hell, that’s about the only way this night could get better.
If I was able to knock some cobwebs off my dick with her.
Swallowing the last of my drink, I allow my eyes to take in the space one last time. What elements could we re-invent for the new eateries Braxton is envisioning? There’s a small area in the corner of the restaurant close to the window where a few couples sway to the music. Hmmm… I wonder if we could create a back wall of windows that retracts into itself or lifts like a garage door to let the ocean breezes come through when the weather would allow? Give the place an indoor/outdoor feel.
The furnishings are as one would expect at a price point like this. But what if the place had more of a rustic chic design about it? Sure, that’s for the designers to decide upon. But knowing the aesthetic beforehand makes it easier to see the endgame when finalizing the construction plans. Especially since attention to detail will be a must in this build.
My eyes bounce to the opposite wall. The bar is inviting, with colorful bottles displayed on glass shelving behind the smooth finish of the wooden countertop. Yet it’s almost too much for what Braxton was describing. It needs something more understated. The bar stools I like a lot. They have tufted taupe cushions for relaxing with a cocktail and a—
Wait just a goddamn minute. It can’t be.