6. Sebastian
SIX
SEBASTIAN
My head spun. How in the hell had I gotten roped into refreshing the Dumpicello for a festival I couldn’t give two shits about? I should’ve skipped town by then. Seeing as we had a gigantic hole between our apartments, I not only had to live with the enemy upstairs, but I’d have to work with her too?
Seething, I gripped the steering wheel and turned onto Viognier Way, following the signs for the newly renamed Sinclair Vineyards to meet the man who’d offered me a way out of this town.
Theo Sinclair was the linchpin in the whole plan. He’d been known for his tried-and-tested process for refurbishing old, rundown buildings in town to make something better. Problem was, the town hadn’t been too happy about his efforts in the past.
Apparently, he’d bought up the empty cigarette factory while the Powers That Be were fighting over what kind of museum to install in its place, knocked it down, then leased the land to a big-box grocery store. The town’s local greengrocer had fought for survival ever since, and Sinclair had secured a fat income stream for the next two decades.
Sinclair was Enemy Number One as far as New Elwood was concerned.
That’s where I came in. In exchange for a more-than-market-value price, I’d get the new hotel approvals over the line then sell him the crumbling building, and none of those vindictive councilmembers would be able to do a thing about the fact that he’d own the right to knock it down and rebuild. And then I’d get the hell out of Dodge and invest the money where I actually wanted it. Where it would make a difference for me—and my family.
Well. That’s what was supposed to happen. Now, who knew? The whole thing might fall apart.
If I couldn’t get the town council to agree to the rebuild, Sinclair wouldn’t buy the Monticello from me. And if Sinclair didn’t buy it, I’d forever be tied to this dump of a town. I’d lose my investment opportunity in Arlington and forever have to look at some musty old theater dragging my portfolio down.
It wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen.
Sinclair was already waiting for me when I pulled up.
“Sebastian Anderson, welcome to Sinclair Vineyards,” the man said, offering me a firm handshake and looking me straight in the eye.
“Theo Sinclair, we meet at last.” We’d been doing business virtually for months, so this was the first time I’d seen the independently wealthy organic vineyard owner in person. Judging by the fine lines on his forehead, Theo was roughly my age. He had dirty blond hair and bleached white teeth.
“Why don’t I show you around?” Theo offered, gesturing toward the vine rows. While he seemed perfectly pleasant, I felt a twinge of hesitation. Charlie’s face popped into my head. If she hated me now, she’d absolutely loathe me when she found out about this. But seeing as Sinclair had offered to buy all of my family’s properties at a staggering price, I proceeded.
We walked row after row of grapevines, and Theo droned on about every variety of grape on the property. I’d rather have drowned myself in a wine vat than hear another word of his terror-driven approach to winemaking. I was antsy. I needed this deal, and he was wasting my time.
“Now this,” he said, standing in front of a wispy vine with the tiniest little grape buds. “This is Muscat, one of the oldest grape varieties. It dates back to ancient times.”
An ancient grape in an ancient town? What a surprise.
“Theo, are we going to keep talking about wine or are we actually going to drink some?” I asked, finally.
He smirked, squinting his sharp blue eyes in the late-afternoon sunlight. “I like the way you think, Anderson. Follow me.”
Back at the main property, we settled at a patio table on the balcony overlooking the local landscape—a lush green expanse with leafy shade trees filtering the sunlight and rolling hills ahead. I’d never seen New Elwood from this vantage point. And it wasn’t half bad. A member of his staff brought over an opened bottle of white wine and a pair of stemmed glasses. Theo did the honors and filled my glass with champagne-colored liquid. “This is our best traminette.”
I took a sip of the small-town-grown wine. Slightly sweeter than I liked, but still pleasant on the tongue. “Very nice.”
“I know.” The vintner swirled the grape nectar in his glass then stuck his nose over the rim before sipping with his pinky slightly raised. I enjoyed wine as much as anyone but found the whole pretentious tasting show a bit annoying.
“So listen, there’s been a little hiccup with the theater,” I said, watching a honeybee float between us.
His brow wrinkled even more. “What kind of hiccup?”
The kind that challenged your every move. “The heritage preservation officer?—”
“You mean Charlie Reeves?”
I meant the bane of my existence who had been sent here to torture me in every way a man could be tortured. “Yeah, she’s going to be a problem. She didn’t exactly go for the hotel plan.”
“Why am I not surprised? You know, I had to deal with her over a colonial shack near some of my land, and I swear she would not budge. I even offered to buy her a new car. Have you seen that clunker she drives? She didn’t go for it. Saw right through me.” Theo’s gaze wandered off into the distance and he shook his head. After my meeting today, I wasn’t surprised to hear that the spitfire couldn’t be bought. That just made her even more of a threat.
Sinclair met my gaze. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is Mayor Greene wants us to restore the theater lobby for the wine gala on the last night of the festival. He’s giving us the opportunity to present our respective plans to the city council for a vote.”
Theo gripped the stem of his glass, his skin taking on a reddish hue. “Do you mean to tell me there’s a chance I won’t get my hotel?”
“Don’t worry, Sinclair. You’ll get your hotel. It’s just not going to be as quickly as we’d hoped.”
“That’s a shame. You sure you can make this happen? In my experience, the members of the city council haven’t been welcoming to us outsiders.”
“Well, I’m not exactly an outsider,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t be penalized for not having stepped foot in New Elwood in over thirty years. But why would I? There was nothing left for me here. Lydia Radcliffe might have owned prime real estate, but she wasn’t exactly the warm grandmotherly type. I had no interest in being part of her legacy.
The timing had been perfect when Theo reached out to me with an offer. He wouldn’t have been my first-choice buyer, but the guy was loaded and I’d just been given the opportunity to buy The Bach Company, a legacy real estate development firm back in Arlington. Except the legacy part was ending. Hamilton Bach was beyond retirement age with no wife and no kids and no plans to go to the grave with the company. In my early years in the business, he’d been a close mentor to me. Working for him, I never got the impression he’d sell a single slice of his pie in the sky. I wanted exactly what he had but I knew I wouldn’t get it there. So I left The Bach Company to start my own operation.
I nearly fell out of my chair when Bach called and asked if I was interested in an acquisition. Of course I was. It was a dream proposition. The deal of a lifetime. The only challenge was, even if I’d sold my business and put up my remaining properties as collateral, it still wasn’t enough to cover the initial payment.
That’s when Theo Sinclair swooped in to save the day. Maybe my mom wouldn’t get what was meant to be hers in New Elwood, but at least I could use it to create enough wealth to set the both of us up for life. After everything she’d been through with Lydia, she deserved that much. We deserved that much.
“Speaking of your local royalty status, what’s happening with Radcliffe House Apartments? How soon can we do the demo?”
I looked out over the wooded railing and spotted the old Second Empire house in the distance. The land it was seated on butted up against his winery right at the edge of town, and Theo wanted to claim it for his vineyard manor like he was the king of New Elwood. More power to him. Wouldn’t be my first choice of place to settle down, but you couldn’t account for taste.
The apartments, at least, were an easier prospect than the theater. “I’m working on the permits now. The house will be obliterated before the ink’s dry on the deed.”
“Good. You have no idea how badly I want that eyesore away from my view.”
Oh, yes, I did. At least he didn’t have to live in it.
By the time I left Sinclair Vineyards, it felt like all the screws were tightening around me. I needed this deal. I needed to hand Theo Sinclair the properties with all the red tape already cleared. I needed to get my money and get out.
Charlie would do her best to stop me, but she didn’t stand a chance.