Chapter 5 #2
“Connection,” Ben said, more from his heart than his head.
“Connection,” she echoed. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”
They sat in comfortable silence, eating, sipping their tea. He’d have a sugar hangover tomorrow, but it’d be worth it. The waitress returned for refills, and Cami switched to water. Then as if on some cosmic cue, she asked for a helping of fries as the exact same words left Ben’s lips.
“Two orders of fries coming up,” Alice said. “Look, you want anything else? Tina said it’s all on the house.”
“No,” Ben said. “Fries are enough.” Cami agreed.
“All right, Ben Carter, tell me about you. When I last saw you, we were fifteen going on sixteen, heading into tenth grade.”
“Nothing exciting. Graduated from Rock Mill High. Went to University of Tennessee, which you know. Go Vols. Then I went to stay with Mom and Dad in Papua New Guinea. I’d felt disconnected from them for a long time, so I thought I’d help out in their ministry.
They have a great team, Americans and locals, working with them, and I felt more in the way than anything. ”
“I’m sure you were a big help.”
“It was good to be with the folks. But missionary life was never for me. The week before I came back here, a typhoon came through. Then it was all hands to the pump. People came from all over the world to dig people out from under mud and fallen structures. I felt useful then. One of the volunteers was from the Turquoise—the Viridian Jewel resort in New Zealand. He was impressed with my work ethic and offered me a job. Seven years later, I’ve opened and managed five VJ resorts, with my biggest job on the horizon—launching a marquee hotel. ”
“What location was your favorite?”
He thought for a moment, stifled by a grip of emotion. Hearts Bend Inn was his favorite. No place like home…
“Budapest. Manhattan was fun too.”
Alice brought a very large plate of hot, steamy fries with a side of chili cheese for dipping.
Cami opened a fresh napkin roll. “I’m going to gain five pounds tonight.”
“After all that square dancing, you earned it.”
She raised her hand for a fist bump.
“What about you?” he said. “How’d you get into Akron Development? I figured you to be an artist, selling your prints at Nashville’s top galleries.”
“Art doesn’t pay the bills. Or buy my shoes.” She laughed. “Minus the typhoon and living in a foreign country, my story is a lot like yours. After Mama died, life sort of fell apart. I lost interest in painting. Mama was my mentor, my…”
“Muse?” Ben said.
“Yes. She was my muse. Dad buried himself in work. Annalise was busy with college, and even though she hovered, I was still on my own. Got into a bit of trouble—nothing serious. Pulled a Ferris Bueller, then decided I didn’t want to be a girl who messed up her life because something bad happened.
Mama wouldn’t like it. As you know, I went to University of Georgia.
Go Dawgs.” Ben made a gagging face. She grinned.
“Majored in finance with a double minor in business and art. Graduated with honors. I worked for Akron in the summers as an intern. Believe you me, I didn’t have any privilege or favor.
I had to apply for the internships like everyone else. ”
“I have to respect that, but you’d think your dad would give you a bit of a break.”
“You’d think.” She munched on a fry dipped in chili cheese. “I think I just wanted to connect to him. In my mind, he replaced Mama as my mentor. If he said, ‘Apply,’ I did. He says, ‘Go to Indy.’ I say, ‘When do I leave?’”
He felt for her, understanding the journey of trying to be acceptable to one’s parents. He’d been there with his own.
They polished off the fries over a rowdy discussion of college sports, mainly football, which morphed into an exchange on how to manage staff.
“Make them feel like they have something to contribute,” Ben said.
“I give rewards. You work hard for me, I’ll show my appreciation.”
Cami drained her water and shoved the glass aside. Ben did the same with his sweet tea, leaning toward her, arms on the blue-and-gold Formica table. She looked like she had something to say.
“What about my offer? Still a no-go?”
“Your mom died there, Cami. You haven’t been back in, what, fifteen years? I want to know the deep-down reason you want it.”
She sighed and looked away, then brushed a tear from under her eye. “You just said it. Because Mama died there, Ben. I guess it’s my way of memorializing her.” Her eyes brimmed when she looked at him. “I’m figuring this out as we go. Following my gut.”
Oh man, what was she doing to him? She was making him want to sell.
But if he did, shouldn’t he get top dollar as a memorial of his grandparents?
Shouldn’t he have a chunk of change to give Dad, Mom, and Myrtle May?
He’d need top dollar, and right here, right now, he wasn’t sure nine hundred thousand was top dollar.
The inn, with some investment, could be a fantastic destination place. But he’d not had time to research the value without renovations.
His parents had given their lives to God and the mission field. Now it was up to Ben to make sure they were set for the end of their lives. He was all they had.
“We’ve said all sentiment aside, right?” he said. “If I sell, I want top dollar. This is my grandparents’ legacy, and I want to set up my parents for retirement. I need to settle the inn’s debt. Make sure MM is set. Give Walt and Ray something for their retirement. They’re like family.”
A tear drifted to the edge of Cami’s eye.
She grinned as she dabbed it away. “I hear you, but I’m still a skilled Akron negotiator, Ben Carter.
If you sell to me, it’ll be for bottom dollar.
The place needs a lot of work. I respect what you want to do with the money, but my offer is fair.
Maybe more than fair. Tell you what, I’ll cover the bank loan and still sell at nine hundred thousand. ”
Now she was just showing off. “You’re making it hard to say no. But can you promise Akron won’t tear it down?”
“That’s my father’s way. Not mine.”
“So, of all the properties you’ve acquired, none of them have been bulldozed.”
Cami sat back with a hot glint in her eye. The sentiment of tears vanished. “Sometimes we sell them to other developers. Sometimes they get torn down for new projects. Ben, I promise, the inn will not be torn down.”
“Once you go to Indy, it’s perfectly plausible your dad could sell the inn out from under you. Frank Hardy probably won’t go away. Or a new developer will come in, buy it for the land and location and tear it down, put up an office building or open a sub shop.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”
“Didn’t he just send you to Indianapolis without even discussing it with you?” He was turning into the man who negotiated contracts with foreigners and navigated cultural differences. The Hearts Bend boy was now a shadow.
“Ben, if you don’t want to sell to me, don’t. You can’t keep challenging me. But let me ask you. How are you going to pay the bank?”
“There are ways. Refinance. Find investors.” Had he just made his decision?
“Okay, what about building the business? You have to grow to stay solvent. What about taxes, insurance, payroll? You’ll have to hire a manager to run things if you’re in Sydney or Hong Kong.”
She was pushing. And he didn’t like to be pushed. “If you want it so much, up your offer.”
“I just did.”
“Try again.”
Her cheeks flashed red. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll keep it.”
“So, you’re turning my offer down?”
“Yeah, Cami, for the second time, I think I am.”
And for about sixty seconds, he knew he’d done the exact right thing.