32. Miles
32
MILES
“ D onald White is on the line for you,” my assistant called through the intercom.
I glanced away from the spreadsheet I currently was in the middle of analyzing.
“What the hell does he want?” I muttered to myself. My curiosity would be answered the second I picked up the phone. Donald White was turning out to be a very needy investor. I preferred investors to write a check and only ask questions after they received their quarterly or annual financial statements. My company was not some kind of growth stock company. We were long-term value. Investing in the JM Carlisle group was not a get rich quick scheme. We were an investment that paid out over time. Donald White was treating his investment with us like some kind of hedge fund short selling scheme.
“Donald, how are you?” I asked as I picked up the phone.
“Cut the chit chat, Carlisle,” he said immediately. It sounded like he had a grievance that needed airing.
“Of course. How can I help you?”
“When I agreed to invest with your group, I thought I had expressed my concern regarding the allocation of certain percentages of my investments to your different divisions.”
“Yes, you did,” I confirmed.
“Then why haven’t you reported progress on that resort development I know you were working on?”
“A progress report on all outstanding projects was included with our quarterly financial statements,” I told him. “The next report will go out with the end of year financial statements.”
“I don’t have time to wait for that. I need to know what’s going on now,” he said like a petulant child.
It was a good thing that this was a phone call and not a face to face conversation. He would not have appreciated the expressions that crossed my face. Donald White had not invested so much money with us that he warranted personal reports and hand holding. But he was an investor, and I wanted to keep them all happy. One unhappy investor could spread dissonance in the ranks, and then I’d have multiple unhappy investors. Unhappy investors pulled their funding.
“We ran into a hiccup,” I admitted. “But we are still going forward with the project. It just looks like some of the parameters that we had originally intended are being redefined.”
“Redefined? There is no resort being built,” he said gruffly.
“At the moment, there is not. However, that doesn’t mean?—”
“I thought you had that little town under control.” He cut me off.
“That little town…” I started.
That little town was a pain in my ass. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to get away from it. Diego and Harris had several potential areas lined up for us to look at. Even Jackson finally admitted that Brookdale was probably going to be a total loss.
I wasn’t convinced. I still wanted to build there. I also knew that my motivation for being in Brookdale was no longer strictly business driven. I wasn’t fully honest with myself, and I still told myself that it was because Brookdale was strategically placed, not too high up in the mountains, close to scenic trails that were accessible year round for hiking and cross-country skiing, and not too far from the freeway.
“We had hoped to have more cooperation from the locals. That doesn’t seem to be happening. So we’re reaching out to other towns to see if we can get a warmer welcome. And to broker a deal with them,” I said.
“And my money?” Donald White asked.
“And your money is making you money,” I said. “I don’t have the year-end reports, as we are still a couple of weeks from wrapping up the fiscal year, but everything looks good. You should expect to see a return on your investment once we provide the year-end financials.”
“I had better see a decent return. Don’t make me regret having changed my mind. I can still change my mind.”
“You’ve already invested with us,” I reminded him.
“I can always withdraw my funding,” he exclaimed.
It sounded like a threat, ‘make me money or I’ll pull all of my funding from you.’ That was always his prerogative. And while I said the words that made him think I cared about his investment, I didn’t. If he chose to withdraw funding, it needed to be because he felt it was a bad fit and not because of how he was treated by me. He could leave, he could take his money, but my reputation would remain intact.
“I certainly hope you choose not to do that, Donald. After all, I expect we will see satisfactory progress on the resort next year.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said. And then he hung up.
I stared at the phone.
“What was that all about?” Harris asked as he waited by my office door for my attention to shift and notice him.
“I’m not exactly sure,” I admitted.
“One of our investors seems a little overly concerned that one of our projects isn’t underway.”
“The vacation resort you have planned for Upstate?” he asked.
I nodded. “Have you updated that search map?” I asked.
“I recently added a couple more potential sites and crossed off one town that we thought had looked very hopeful.”
“Email that over to me,” I said.
“I will do it as soon as I get back into my office,” he said.
“Was there anything else you needed?” I asked.
“No, I wanted to say, have a good holiday before I take off. I’m not back until after the New Year.”
“Oh, that’s right. Enjoy your time off,” I said before he left. I had practically forgotten it was Christmas. I had been focused on work and ignoring the world around me in an attempt to keep from thinking about Lydia and the baby.
A few moments later, I opened the email and took a look at the map Harris sent over. With nothing better to do since no one would be at the office because of the holiday, I decided that taking a drive Upstate and checking out the towns marked on Diego and Harris’s map would be a good idea.
I rented a car and began touring the region. The weather was cold, and the days were short. Looking at small towns in the dark wasn’t doing me any good. I got a room in one of those characterless motels by the freeway. The building and the clerk both lacked the charm that Lydia and the Sweet Mountain Inn possessed.
What the hell was it with snowstorms and Brookdale? The weather was only getting worse as I drove toward my destination. I laughed to myself. Maybe Lydia would be feeling nostalgic when I showed up in the middle of another snowstorm. Or maybe she would curse my lack of common sense, being out in this weather. Because here I was, against my own better judgment and my lawyer’s advice, and I was driving to Brookdale.
That hadn’t exactly been my intention. I told myself that I was just going to take a drive out of the city, away from all the crazed shoppers and tourists, get out on my own, and drive around the small towns of Upstate New York.
But at some point during the morning, I made the unconscious decision to go to Brookdale. A couple of hours later, I had to admit to myself that I knew exactly what I was doing. And by then, the weather had rolled in.
I was closer to Brookdale than I was to going back. It would take less time to get to Brookdale and Lydia than it would have to turn around and try to go back. It would have been the smart thing to turn around and go back. But I needed to know, had Lydia had the child yet?
I no longer cared about the paternity. I knew it was mine. She had no reason to lie to me. I had every reason to project my guilt and distrust onto her. And that’s exactly what I was doing.
She deserved something better than my being an asshole. Maybe now, I could see Brookdale from her point of view, much clearer than she would ever see it from my point of view. And if I accepted that, I could accept that she was having my child too.
I needed to make amends. That wasn’t going to happen with a letter from my lawyer. She needed to hear that straight from my own mouth. If I was lucky, she’d be willing to listen.
The snow started to fall thicker. It wasn’t nearly as bad as that surprise spring snowstorm that had forced me to find refuge at her inn and thrown us together. It was still unseasonably early and was making this drive more treacherous than it needed to be.
It was a good thing I decided to rent an SUV instead of taking my own little sports car out. As much as I loved driving my McLaren 720S, there was no way I would drive it when there was the threat of snow or excessive rain. I liked that car entirely too much to risk it to hazardous road conditions and other unreliable drivers.
The snow was constant, blanketing all surfaces and covering the road. If it kept falling at this rate, I needed to be concerned with getting stuck on the road. At least the wind wasn’t blowing drifts of snow around. I needed to get to Brookdale before I got myself stuck out here.