Chapter 12 Jackson #2
Instead of answering, Alistair Hale undid the button on his suit jacket and sat down.
His short, graying hair was immaculate, trimmed by the barber he’d been to for the last fifteen years.
There was a wrinkle to the bridge of his nose, as if he was constantly bothered by a dead haddock in his breast pocket rather than his own disappointing son.
Today, it was particularly pronounced. “We’ve got a bit of a problem. ”
Jackson leaned back in his chair. “Go on.”
“Landon Peake has had to change the interest rate on our loan.”
“What do you mean he’s ‘had to’?”
His father waved a careless hand but his back was rigid. “One of his upcoming investments requires a bigger cash influx than he expected. He was apologetic, but he needs to recoup the money from us sooner rather than later.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes. “How soon? And what are the new terms?”
“I initially agreed to pay $70,000 per month over twenty months. Landon’s asked that we double it.”
“$140,000 per month over ten months?”
His dad gave a slow blink; his nostrils flared. “Over fifteen months.”
Fucking hell!
“Is he mad? That would be a repayment of $2.1 million on a $1.4 million loan. It’s extortion.”
“If we can settle up sooner, it won’t be that much.”
“And if we go to the police, we’ll sort it even quicker. He can’t charge that kind of interest—it’s not even legal.” Jackson swallowed, his throat as dry as summer dirt. The low hum of the heating system grew louder in his ears.
His dad was shaking his head, brow furrowed. “We’re not going to the police.”
“We’re not paying thirty-three percent interest to a fucking shyster!”
“It won’t come to that. I’ve already told you. But Landon Peake knows everyone I know. He’s got standing at the club. Although I trust his discretion, I’m not prepared to risk word getting out that Hale Evolution isn’t good for its debts.”
“This is madness.” Unable to sit still any longer, Jackson rose from his desk and turned to the window.
Down on the street, a young woman jogged the length of the sidewalk with a three-wheeled buggy, ponytail swishing from side to side.
He envied her. Running was exactly what he wanted to do right now.
Far, far away. “How long do we have before the new interest rates kick in?”
“Landon wants the higher payment next month. He’s let us have this month at the old rate.”
“Kind of him.” Jackson kept his voice as steady as he could. He turned to face his dad. “What happens if we can’t pay?”
His father raised an eyebrow. “Landon Peake is a businessman, not a monster. I told him about your grandmother’s house and he was very understanding. He doesn’t want to cause us a problem.”
All of which was fine, but it didn’t answer his question. “Would it help if I spoke to him?”
“There’s no need.” His dad dismissed the suggestion. “Better that he deals with the organ grinder than the monkey.”
A steel band of tension wrapped itself around Jackson’s chest; the tendons in his neck pulsed. “Jesus Christ, Dad. Could you be any more patronizing?”
“It’s only a phrase. Don’t be so sensitive.”
Oliver appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, Jackson, but I have a few things to run through with you before your two o’clock.
” That was possible, though unlikely. They’d already gone through his day earlier.
Oliver, experienced in running interference between Jackson and his father, was worth his weight in gold.
“I’ll be right with you.” He sent a tight nod Ollie’s way and tried to relax the death grip he’d taken on the back of his chair.
His father smoothed careful fingers along the pristine crease of his pants, then slowly uncrossed his legs. He rose to his feet. “Come to dinner tomorrow night.” It wasn’t a request. “We can talk more then. Your mother will be pleased to see you.”
Jackson doubted it. “I’ll come by after work, but I already have plans for the evening.”
Oliver’s eyes met his. Liar, liar, pants on fire, they said.
His dad made a small adjustment to the drinks coaster on the desk, lining it up neatly with Jackson’s in-tray. “Let me know if you get any offers on the house.” He gave a short, sharp sniff. “And your tie is too thin. You look like a teenager interviewing for a weekend job.”
As soon as his father left the office, Jackson slumped into his chair and flicked the drinks coaster crooked again. It would have felt so much better to kick something. “Any chance you could get me a coffee so I can start this meeting, and I’ll return the favor later?”
“Don’t bother. Your coffee stinks.” Oliver shot him an irreverent grin and left, passing Natalia, their project designer, in the doorway.
“I’m not stopping, but I wanted to check why the kitchen appliances have arrived on-site today.
I thought we’d agreed they’d be delivered at the end of the month, so we didn’t have storage issues?
” Natalia, more casually dressed than usual, was laden with a weighty book of carpet tile samples in one hand and a travel mug in the other.
“I ordered them for the thirty-first.”
“They were dropped off first thing. I’m going to the site now, but the delivery driver’s already unloaded and gone. I’m concerned they’ll get damaged before we need them.”
“Fuck.” Jackson took his cell from his pocket and eyed the date. It was the thirteenth.
“Leave it with me. I’ll sort something out. Better early than late, at least.” Natalia drank a mouthful of coffee from her mug and left the office again.
How had that happened? Had he mixed up the dates?
Jackson forced a long, low exhale from his lips.
The issue with the kitchen appliances wasn’t a big deal.
Natalia would sort it. Landon Peake was the more immediate problem.
The loan could bankrupt them if Amity Court didn’t sell.
Everything his father had built and Jackson had struggled to maintain was at risk if he couldn’t get a buyer.
He’d just have to dig in and make it happen.