Chapter Thirty-Four
“You need to eat,” Blackie said, sipping a Guinness. He wasn’t much older than Hank, but a premature white spot on his dark hair gave him the appearance of maturity. “Elizabeth said you’ve lost weight.”
They sat in a booth in Hank’s favorite restaurant, known for its exclusivity and extraordinary seafood. Hank studied the menu, but nothing seemed appetizing. “You sound like a father.”
Blackie cackled. “I am a father. For God’s sake, eat, my man. Even my three-year-old eats better than you.”
Hank sighed. Nothing tasted as good as Bethany’s cooking. His cell phone buzzed next to his hand. His father. He ignored it. “Quit your nagging. I’ll order a hamburger.”
Blackie raised his glass. “A toast.”
Hank clinked his glass against Blackie’s, but more from habit than celebration.
“To your recent success. And—I have a buyer eager to cut a deal.”
“Cut a deal?”
“For the Cleveland building, of course. If you’re not going to convert the structure into a fitness center, then you’ll need to sell it. I have a buyer.”
“I’m not interested in selling.”
“They’re willing to pay top dollar.”
Hank sat forward and fingered his glass. “Who is it?”
“It’s not a single person, it’s a conglomerate, a real estate company who’ll turn it into a high-class apartment complex. They like the location, so near to downtown.”
Hank pressed his lips together. “No.”
“Now, Hank—”
“I said no. End of discussion. I’m not selling to a real estate conglomerate.”
“You’d be foolish not to. They’re willing to offer one and a half mil—more than the building’s worth to you and triple what you paid for it. You’ll make a killing.”
“I’m not interested in making a killing. I want to make sure whoever owns it will allow the tenants to continue renting.”
“You’ll never find a buyer willing to make that deal. Whoever owns it will make more by turning it into something new than continuing to rent the space.”
His cell phone buzzed again. His dad was persistent. This was the fifth time he’d called today. The old man must be desperate for money. He bit his lip to stop from hurling the device across the room. “I won’t have it turned into something new.”
“Be reasonable, Hank. The building needs attention. You can’t continue to own it without investing in it. It’s an expensive proposition. I urge you to reconsider.”
“No. End of story.” He raised his hand. “I mean it.”
“All right,” Blackie grumbled, downing the contents of his glass.
Hank’s cell phone buzzed again. Across from him, Blackie glowered. “You need to answer that?”
“Nah, it’s no one important.” Hank silenced the call, picked up his glass, and followed Blackie’s example, but it couldn’t dull the pressure behind his eyelids.
Bethany totaled the money in the drawer for the third time and tried to stop the butterflies from coursing through her system.
It had been nearly two weeks since Hank had left, and there was no way they would have enough to pay next month’s rent and buy the supplies needed to keep the place open.
She groaned before she realized Travis could hear her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pausing from his job sweeping the floor.
She busied herself by checking the bakery items. There were two chocolate donuts and one banana muffin left in the case. “We need to be on the list when they announce the finalists tomorrow.”
“Why do you sound like the voice of death?”
“Travis, if our names aren’t on the website, we’re going to have to close Grandma Lou’s at the end of the month.”
Travis leaned on the broom. “I know he’s a slime for leaving you and all, but maybe we can use Hank’s guilty conscience to buy us some time on our rent? He’d probably give us an extension to make the payment.”
She swallowed and pretended her heart didn’t lurch and shift inside her chest at Travis’s suggestion and stuck her chin in the air. “No way. I can’t face him right now. Not after the way he left.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you call him.”
“I said no, Travis.” Her voice shook, and she hunched against the counter to stop the trembles.
Travis shot her a concerned look.
“I won’t call Hank, and you can’t either. He’s made it clear he’s moved on. We need to as well. Call it pride or whatever, but I won’t burden him with our problems. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed we win, okay?”
“Look to your left,” Blackie said out of the corner of his mouth. “Looks like we’re about to have company.”
Hank turned his head to the side and suppressed a groan.
“Why hello, Hank. Heard you were back in town,” Melanie said, leaning over the table and granting him a full frontal view of her chest.
“Hello, Melanie. I see the grapevine is alive and well. I’ve only been back a week or so.”
She gave him a sly look, causing goosebumps to form on Hank’s skin. “Heather said you missed me. Did you miss me, Hanky?”
Hank’s insides cringed at the use of the pet name. He tightened his jaw so he wouldn’t be tempted to say something he would later regret. Why had he ever thought Melanie attractive? The pounding in his head intensified. He nodded toward Blackie. “You remember my agent?”
“Yes, of course I remember you.” She presented Blackie with what Hank called her don’t-waste-my-time smile and shook his hand.
Then she leaned toward Hank and kissed his cheek like they were dear friends and she hadn’t screamed expletives at him the last time they’d talked.
Hank tried to keep the surprise at her greeting off his face.
“I heard you’ll be playing Robin Hood on the big screen. Congratulations. That’s quite a role.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Now you’re back in town, let’s do lunch and catch up.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her his famous Apollo frown—the one he used before he vanquished the enemy. “You want to catch up?”
“Well, of course I do. You and I had something special together, didn’t we?”
“Melanie, you’re suing me for millions of dollars. Anything special we had is long gone.”
“Now, Hank, let’s not be overly dramatic.
I’m dropping the lawsuit. You know I only filed it because you broke my little ol’ heart.
” She pressed her hand against her chest, drawing his eye there.
“When Heather told me how you felt, well, you know I want to let any past mistakes go, to see if the flame between us can be rekindled.” She leaned toward him, smelling of jasmine and roses.
The name of her perfume, “Bolt of Lightning,” popped into his head—probably because the ounce he’d bought for her birthday had cost him more than his electricity bill for an entire year.
Hank wrapped his fingers around his glass and watched the ice melt. “I thought you were dating Brent Chambers?”
“My, you have been out of touch, haven’t you?
Brent’s old news. I’m a free agent.” She squeezed his bicep.
“I see you’re still keeping your gorgeous bod in shape.
” She straightened, granting him a sweet but false smile.
“We were good together once, Hank, weren’t we?
We could be again. But don’t wait too long.
Give me a call, okay.” She left in a perfumed flurry.
Blackie guffawed. “That’s some woman. Looks like Robin Hood has put you back on Melanie’s A-list. Better strike while your iron’s ‘in the fire’ so to speak . . . eh, Apollo?”
Hank released his pent-up breath. “Don’t be an ass.” His phone buzzed, and he groaned. His dad wasn’t giving up. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He stood and headed toward the bar, where Blackie couldn’t eavesdrop on his conversation.
“Hank, I’m here,” his father’s voice came through the phone.
“Where’s here? In LA?” An icy hand pressed against his lungs. He pulled out the nearest bar stool and sank onto it.
“Where else? I told you we were coming to visit, remember?”
“You said you’d call me about visiting.”
A hoarse laugh rang through the phone. “That’s what I’m doing right now. Calling you. I’d like to come see ya, son.”
“You need money.”
“No, that’s not why I’m calling. We’re on the way to your house from the airport. We should be there in . . . Linda, what’s the GPS say?” His dad sounded excited.
Hank heard a faint voice, which must be his stepmom, in the background.
“Thirty-eight minutes.”
Oh my God. His father, stepmom, and half-sisters were on their way to his house. The icy hand clutching his lungs moved to his heart and squeezed.
“You there, Hank?”
He heard Bethany’s voice in his head, as if she stood next to him and wasn’t halfway across the country. Compassionate and kind Bethany who had been betrayed by her fiancé. Let him visit. Give him a chance to explain. Maybe something he says will ease your anger—help you understand his neglect.
The hand gripping his heart eased.
“Hank, I know you blame me for leaving the way I did when you were a kid. I’m real sorry about that time. I’ve got a lot of regrets. Hank?”
It’s a gift you give yourself, Bethany urged in his mind. Warmth pulsed through his veins. He drew in a breath. “Yeah?”
“I’m in a better place now. Got a new job, and it’s going well. Your stepmom and sisters want to get to know you. I’m just asking you to give us a chance to be part of your life. What do you say, son? Can you spare a few hours for a visit?”
Hank gripped the phone and listened to the sound of his heart thudding in his ears. “All right, Dad.”