A Family Affair: The Plan (Truth In Lies #24)

Chapter 1

1

H ope Newland understood that in order to achieve success in business, you had to have a plan: well-constructed, vetted, strategic. Emotion had no place in the process, as it blurred the choices, the challenges, and the opportunities inherent in the plan. Her mother taught her this when Hope was a child, and while Abigail Newland had been referring to success in life, it also applied to business.

A clear head, an objective viewpoint, and a calm presence could diminish the pitfalls and therefore increase the likelihood of a positive outcome. Positive by definition of Southerfield and Associates meant achieving a mutually satisfying arrangement between both parties to involve, but not limited to, financial gains and the elusive “better life”. Hope agreed with the company’s philosophy and had been an active proponent of eliciting “positive outcomes” since she started with the company nine years ago. That belief, along with drive and commitment to each project she undertook, had earned Hope her current title as Director of Strategic Development.

“Martin, is everything okay?” Hope eyed the man sitting behind the massive cherry desk, took in the flushed cheeks, the beads of sweat along his temples. Had he been cheating with salt and French fries again? She hoped not because after last year’s health scare that landed him on blood pressure medication and a special diet, he’d promised to change his habits. People said children were a worry, but an uncooperative adult with a laissez-faire attitude toward his health could be impossible. This man was an employer, mentor, and father figure who included her in family celebrations, holiday gatherings, and the Southerfield’s annual getaway. “Martin?”

“I’m fine.” He must have noticed the concern in her voice because he offered reassurances. “I’m following doctor’s orders.” Big sigh and an eye roll. “Alice is making sure I do.”

“Only because she wants to see you running around with grandchildren.”

“Grandchildren?” He snorted, shook his head. “Four kids and no grandkids yet.” Another head shake. “I have a mind to ask the two married ones what’s going on, but Alice told me it’s not our business. You think that’s true? Should I keep my mouth shut and pretend they haven’t been married enough years to have at least one baby?”

That question made Hope fidget in her chair and stumble for a response. “I am not equipped to answer that question.”

Martin leaned back in his leather chair, let out a laugh and folded his hands over his belly. “Good answer. You’re not ‘equipped’.” Another laugh, this one deeper. “I knew you were special the first time you walked into this office. Not many twenty-three-year-olds can conduct themselves with such poise, but you did. You knew what you wanted and were determined to get it.”

His smile and the compliments attached to it made her wish he were a real relative, one who’d been around during her childhood to help protect her from the disappointments of a demanding mother. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The smile spread. “When Kent relocated from the West Coast office three years ago and you started seeing each other… Well, I’d hoped I’d walk you down the aisle one day.”

“Martin, please.” There’d been a time where she’d thought the same thing, but that had all died when Kent cheated on her with an old girlfriend . I had too many scotches and she came on to me, and… Kent always had an excuse and nothing was ever his fault.

“I’m sorry for mentioning it. My nephew doesn’t deserve another chance after what he did.” He sighed, adjusted his glasses, and reached for a folder on the edge of his desk. “Let’s talk about a project I’ve been contemplating; one I believe has great potential.”

Hope nodded, relieved the conversation had shifted from her ex-boyfriend to a project. “I’m always interested in hearing your ideas.” Martin Southerfield was a genius when it came to property acquisition and brand expansion for their hotels.

“The hotel market is saturated in the city––even the suburbs. Our profit margins have been declining, and we’ve got to find something different. Something intriguing that will draw customers and make them want to come back. That’s why I’m thinking about the bed-and-breakfast market, set in small communities.”

“A bed-and-breakfast market?” She fought to keep her breathing even, despite the sudden queasiness in her belly. A bed-and-breakfast? People described those places with words like quaint, charming, and cozy, but they weren’t the ones scrubbing floors, wiping down walls, or starching linen tablecloths. And they certainly weren’t scouring pots and pans crusted with flour and butter. At fourteen, that had been Hope’s job at the bed-and-breakfast located on the outskirts of their pathetic town. We’ll have a room rent-free, and food , her mother had said when she became the manager of Betsy’s B one my grandfather must have felt when he envisioned turning run-down buildings into luxury hotels.”

Every employee had heard the story of how Norbert Southerfield bought a midrise and converted it into an upscale hotel that offered a restaurant serving the best prime rib in town and a complimentary breakfast for guests. Seventy-five years later, Southerfield Hotels were in every major city in the country, close to theaters, museums, upscale boutiques, and five-star restaurants. What could a small-town location offer? Not high-end cuisine and entertainment.

“Small towns and bed-and-breakfasts have never even been a consideration. If the numbers are flat, we could examine our current locations and adjust. If you’re interested in expansion, why not offer a less-expensive option that will appeal to those on a budget?” They’d discussed entering an economy-level hotel market a few years ago, but Martin had tabled the idea because he wasn’t convinced the profit margin would be there. “I could put something together if you want to discuss it?”

“No, I don’t think that’s right for us. But the bed-and-breakfast market in a small town?” A nod, a soft, “That could be the one . Just because our hotels don’t belong in small towns doesn’t mean we don’t belong there.” Pause and a confident “I picked you because you’ve always possessed a calculating eye, and the ability to spot an opportunity.” Martin placed both hands on his desk, nodded his gray head. “You, Hope Newland, are going to find me that opportunity. You’re going to visit a small town, stay in the bed-and-breakfast, and tell me what attracts people, what makes them come back, and even propels a few to move there.”

“How would we even begin to locate such a place? Do you have an area in mind? East Coast? West? South?” Talk about the proverbial needle in a haystack.

“I didn’t hire you to play guessing games and this idea didn’t land in my head during a dream. Kent and I have been working on possible locations and have two strong possibilities.”

“You and Kent are working on this?” Mention of her ex-boyfriend’s involvement in this project did not make her happy.

His gaze narrowed the slightest bit. “The man’s a brilliant strategist and he delivers results. He should be joining us soon.” A three-second pause and then, “Is this going to be a problem?”

Of course, it was a problem. She didn’t want to hear anything her ex-boyfriend had to say, including the reasons he’d slept with an old girlfriend or how it had been a horrible mistake driven by too much alcohol and too little common sense. I’m sorry. Please, give me another chance. I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy. As if those words could snuff out what he’d done.

Martin cut through thoughts of her ex with comments about one of the small towns. “I had our people do some preliminary groundwork on the two potential locations, but I want you and Kent to draw your own conclusions. I’m very curious about the man from Chicago who moved to the town you’ll be visiting. He’s part owner of an investment firm, a confirmed bachelor who got married at fifty and now has a wife, three kids, and a restaurant. Word has it, he’s some sort of godfather to the town. Helps people in and out of ‘situations’ with the help of an old Italian man who apparently talks to his dead wife.” He rubbed his jaw, blew out a long sigh. “Most of the men I know don’t want to converse with their living wives. Odd man. And why would the investment company owner leave Chicago?” Another sigh, this one louder. “Makes no sense, but I’m almost more curious about the woman who convinced him to settle down.” His laugh spilled across the desk. “She must be something.”

Hope didn’t want to talk about “forever” relationships or how someone could give up everything for the right person. “So, you want me to visit the town, study the people and pretend I’m just there on vacation?” That might be a hard sell unless she added words like burned out, needed a break, unplug, even overwhelmed. As if she would ever utter those words, even if they were true.

“Of course not. I’d never ask you to lie. I want you to be honest about why you’re there, and I want you to find out what’s so special about that town and the bed-and-breakfast. Big money’s been visiting and some are moving there, and from the few tidbits I’ve heard, they’re not regretting it. How does that happen? What’s so compelling about a small town that doesn’t even have a fast-food place or a strip mall? And the people? A middle-aged former Chicagoan who’s been dubbed the ‘godfather’ of the town and an Italian sidekick who talks to his dead wife?” He rubbed his jaw. “It’s baffling, but there’s something here, Hope. It could be the key to a new part of our business, with unlimited opportunities and I want you involved.”

If Martin felt so strongly about this, then she needed to be more open-minded, embrace the small-town idea, and snuff out reminders of her bed-and-breakfast experiences. It’s not like she’d be cooking or cleaning, and she definitely wouldn’t have to share a room. If she were lucky, she’d be the only guest there.

“It won’t be that bad.” Martin smiled, let out a chuckle. “If I can convince Alice to step away from the garden club and her charity work, maybe we’ll take a trip to one of these towns. I’m curious to experience it all firsthand. But for now, you and Kent will have to be my eyes and ears.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Martin. Thank you for having faith in my ability. I truly appreciate it and?—”

Three knocks interrupted the rest of her words, followed by a door opening and the voice she wished she could forget. “Sorry I’m late. My flight was delayed.”

Kent Barclay stepped into the office, closed the door, and moved toward them with a wave and a flash of white teeth. Tall, handsome, self-assured with an answer for everything, even if it were manufactured. “Hello, Hope.” His gaze landed on her, his smile spread. “A pleasure, as always.”

There’d been a time when that look could make her forget to breathe…and that voice could steal her thoughts. “Welcome back.”

“Chicago’s great, but it’s always good to get back here.” He slid into the chair next to hers, crossed a leg over his thigh. “So, Martin’s told you about the bed-and-breakfast idea?”

“Yes, and I understand you were involved in it.” Why had Martin thought Kent could offer perspective on expansion into the small-town market? Maybe the real question was why hadn’t the man included her ? Was it because of her past connection with Kent a.k.a. ex-boyfriend status?

“We’ve been toying with this possibility for a while.” Kent shrugged. “Nothing firm.”

Hope sucked in a breath, blew it out as though she were not upset by this information. “And yet I had no idea.”

Martin cleared his throat. “You were busy with the Amsdell project and I wanted you to focus on that. You know Conrad Amsdell is very particular. Besides, we weren’t fleshing out concrete plans, and Kent’s very good at considering all of the options.”

“Hmm.” He hadn’t considered all of his options when he’d hooked up with the old girlfriend and then tried to keep it from Hope. Why couldn’t Martin have selected someone else to work on this project? The truth settled in her brain, forced her to acknowledge the truth. Kent might be a lousy personal partner, but he possessed a keen insight into the hotel business and the personality to close a deal while making the other party believe they were the ones getting a deal. “So, what are the potential locations?”

Kent’s face lit up. “This is where it gets interesting. Remember Nick Borado, heir to the V. Classico clothing line?”

“Who doesn’t remember him?” Way too handsome, a daredevil playboy who traveled the world and then supposedly settled in a small town where he apparently reconnected with a woman no one had ever heard about, married her, started a casual clothing line, and worked at his father-in-law’s bar. It sounded unbelievable. Maybe it was dramatized gossip and the man was actually living in Paris.

“It’s crazy, right?” His laugh pulled out the dimples on the side of his mouth. “Imagine that? And when he created a catalog for his Borado Casual line, he used the men from the town as models. Not sure if either of you saw the catalog?” He blew out a low whistle, shook his blond head. “These are not your average models. One guy looks like a real mountain man, the kind you want to avoid. Very clever marketing. The catalog is how I found the town where Borado lives. I got curious and started doing a little research, discovered a bed-and-breakfast owned by a woman whose daughter runs a similar one in Pennsylvania. What are the odds of that happening? But—” he sat up, his voice spilling excitement “—the Pennsylvania bed-and-breakfast is where the man who created Langston Turnings lives. Hope, do you remember the bowls and vases we saw in the storefront in Chicago? This guy created the pieces and kept his identity hidden for years.”

Oh, yes, she’d heard his story. “You’re talking about Daniel Reese. He created a collection for his future wife as a way to show her he loved her.”

Kent reached out to touch her forearm, stopped. “That’s not the whole story. He lied to her, pretended he was someone he wasn’t…and then she found out.”

The huskiness in his voice said he wasn’t just talking about Daniel Reese. He was talking about himself and Hope and the lies he’d told. “Yes, I remember.”

“He made a public announcement in front of everyone and asked her forgiveness. Can you imagine? For a guy to make that sort of confession and pledge his love?” He blew out a sigh, his voice turning huskier. “I’m guessing he could have done anything and she would’ve forgiven him.”

“Not anything.” She pushed aside visions of the texts from Kent’s ex-girlfriend where she provided graphic details of their night together and turned to Martin. “These are very interesting stories and I’m sure they’ll provide a good tale to attract visitors, but I want to clarify something. You’re asking me to analyze the town as well as the bed-and-breakfast and then provide feedback on how we can emulate them in other locations. Is that correct?”

Martin nodded. “When you read about some of the affluent people who have either visited or moved to these towns, I think you’ll be intrigued. Yes, there are a few who were raised in these towns or met someone who lived there, but they should only serve as a starting point. What you two do with that information and how you infuse it into your plan will decide which location we emulate.” His tone shifted, filled with conviction. “That will be a huge win for one of you, and if all goes well, you could be lead on the entire project.”

Goodness, what an incredible opportunity! She’d share a bathroom and meals for a chance to run lead on a project of this size. “Thank you, Martin. I’m excited to get started.”

Kent eased back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest. “I love a good challenge.” His gaze darted to Hope. “You up for this?”

“Of course.” Did the man not possess an ounce of humility? The smug expression on his face and the comment indicated he already thought he’d won.

“Good. And Martin—” he turned to their boss a.k.a. his uncle “—I think it would be a great idea if the winner could select a partner to help with the project.”

“I guess that would work.” Martin glanced from Kent to Hope. “Would you be amendable to that, Hope?”

Kent only made that suggestion because he thought he was going to win.

“I’d rather wait to decide the particulars.”

“Okay, fine.” Kent turned to Hope. “We’ll see how it plays out. The town where you’re going has some old Italian dude who wears high tops and sweat outfits. He’s supposed to be some sort of relationship guru.” Kent laughed, held up a hand. “Can you imagine what that must look like? It’s almost as good as the oddball who runs around in designer suits doling out care packages and advice. Sounds like hillbilly haven. I told Martin small towns aren’t your thing, but he wouldn’t budge. Said he wants your input.”

“And the other bed-and-breakfast? Does that have an Italian senior citizen in high tops and a do-gooder in designer suits?” Of course, Kent would choose the better option.

The throat clearing and shift in his chair gave her the answer she suspected. “No, sorry but I couldn’t deal with that for a whole month. You’re better suited to handle the eccentric types. I just don’t have the patience.” He shrugged, blew out a loud sigh. “Besides, I want to meet Daniel Reese, see if he’ll sign a bowl for me. That means you’ve got Magdalena, New York, and I have Reunion Gap, Pennsylvania.”

Kent always considered himself first, and everyone else third or fourth. Hope had once been so enamored with his business success, his style and charisma that she’d missed the other parts of him: the self-absorption, the lack of compassion, the boredom with anything that wasn’t business related. When she did finally notice, several months after they began dating, she remained quiet instead of confronting him.

Why?

The truth burrowed through her brain, settled in her gut like a lump of undigested cheese. Their “relationship” was comfortable and didn’t require enormous amounts of energy or emotion. Okay, maybe she wasn’t deliriously happy, but she was content and thought that was enough. Until it wasn’t. She’d been so close to talking to him about finding a way to be more than just “content” when he committed the unthinkable and slept with an old girlfriend. Kent might not have told her if she hadn’t found the graphic text messages.

Sonia and I were engaged in college, but then she went on to law school and I moved out West…long distance didn’t work. I haven’t seen her in years.

Should that make me feel better?

Of course not, but at least she wasn’t a casual hook up.

Oh, that makes such a difference.

“Hope? Do you have a minute?”

The man who’d stolen her heart and crushed it, walked into her office and sat in a chair across from her desk. “Sorry to spring that on you earlier. Martin didn’t want to tell you about it until he had more information.”

“I see.” She didn’t like that she’d been excluded, but she was not going to whine about it or let him know it bothered her. Kent believed deals were won and lost based on who held the edge, real or imagined. Well, she was not going to give him anything to weaken her chances of having Magdalena, New York, selected as the template for this project. Was her desire to win about more than business? Probably. Who was she kidding? Of course, it was personal. She wanted to beat Kent, knock him down and stare into those blue eyes and tell him he had lost. The man thought he owned the world and could do whatever he wanted and everyone would be waiting for him, desperate, hopeful, awed by his words and his presence.

Well, not her. Not any longer.

“Hope?” His voice turned sad. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

She’d answered him several times before, but he hadn’t liked her answer and therefore continued to rework the question, sometimes accompanied by flowers, a bottle of wine, a scarf, even jewelry. Why couldn’t he understand what she’d been trying to tell him for the past five months? “I do forgive you, Kent, but that doesn’t change things between us. We still have a business relationship, but anything beyond that is not going to happen.”

He’d heard that same answer too many times, but the frown said he still didn’t like it and didn’t plan to accept it. Kent dragged a hand through his blond hair, frowned. “But don’t you see how limited that thinking is? Mistakes help people grow and learn, make them better, more committed.” He splayed his hands on her desk, leaned forward. “I know it will take time, and I also know I don’t get to say how long, but will you just consider it?”

“I’ve already considered it.”

Big sigh. “Okay, what if I back off until we get the bed-and-breakfast project settled? No pushing, no hard sells, just thirty days for you to think about another chance? That’s all I’m asking and if you say ‘no’ this time, I won’t ask again.”

Was this a trick question? Kent never gave up this easily…unless he didn’t think he’d lose. Fine. If he thought backing off would change her mind, he was wrong. But if she had thirty days without him pestering her? She’d take it and not feel bad about the answer a month from now, which would still be “no”. “Sure.”

His expression relaxed, and he shared the smile that used to dazzle her, but now only annoyed her. “Perfect. That’s all I wanted to hear.” He raised his hand, made a motion with his thumb and forefinger. “Less than an inch of opportunity is all I’m asking.”

If he believed she’d ever get involved with him again on a personal level, he’d end up disappointed. But right now, she needed him to back off and let her concentrate on this new challenge. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, we will.” His voice turned softer than melted caramel and just as sweet. “I’ve missed you.”

“No more personal talk, right?”

Those blue eyes sparked. “Not until the deal’s done.”

“Good. So, do you really think the bed-and-breakfast scenario is the next chapter for this company?” Her ex might not be trustworthy in the boyfriend arena, but he had a sense about the development business, what worked, what didn’t, and what could.

“I do. In fact, I think it could be a jackpot.”