But in J.J.’s estimation, things were back on track.
That was one less thing to worry about.Thank goodness.
ChapterNine
Libby
She had J.J. back. It wasn’t how she would have planned to have to do it. But the result was that J.J. was back in town, and hopefully, that also meant D.J. was on the right path.
She didn’t have the time—or truth be told, the money—to find a new contractor to finish what needed finishing in downtown Irish Hills.
She was lucky. Granite Insurance had paid out initially when the tornado ripped through last summer.
But there weren’t any extra funds. The time lost, and the expense of finding a new firm to take over the project, would set them back too far. She’d never get the places leased if she had to restart with a new contractor. Still, there were a lot of loose ends; with D.J., more loose ends than tied in the last few weeks.
Libby looked at the books for the redevelopment project. It was a razor’s edge between staying afloat and sinking to the bottom of Lake Manitou. She never felt done or even safe. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. She knew she thrived under this type of pressure; she’d faced worse odds. Now that J.J. was back, that would tip the balance back in the right direction.
Today’s meeting was vital. She was meeting with Granite Insurance to convince them to continue coverage of her disaster-prone redevelopment.
The value of the project was always future value. Granite took a considerable risk in covering the buildings, and then, of course, they had to pay out, thanks to the tornado.
The renovations had taken longer than she’d hoped, so the costs were going up, and the potential income going down.
That damn tornado.It was so capricious and random, and yet twice in the town’s life, Mother Nature had chosen to unleash her wrath on Irish Hills.
When Libby was young, it hurt the town. It changed the course of the town’s life but not her life. No one she knew died. Sure, a lot of destruction happened, but it wasn’t her heart. It wasn’t her future. Her future was in the big city with Henry. Her plans were away, not here.
But this time, the storm hit her in all ways. All worse. All awful.
The town had survived, in some ways, much better this time than the twister of their youth. But her heart, all of their hearts, were swept into despair unlike anything they’d ever known. Dean Tucker was important to J.J., for sure, to their boys, but also to Libby. That evil tornado had taken a bedrock from all of them.
The loss of Dean could also prove to be the loss of all they’d worked for. Libby used this as fuel. She’d win again, and it was going to be for Dean just as much as for Irish Hills.
Libby loved D.J. She wanted him to rise to the occasion. It was easy to forget he wasn’t Dean. He was still young. Dean was so good at his job, and Libby had grown to rely on him. They’d had a language between them for how to complete a project. It wasn’t fair to put any of that on D.J. She had to remember that she was training D.J., in many ways, helping him learn what she needed.
But the drinking, that was another kettle of fish.
D.J. had a problem, and he needed help. Thank goodness J.J. was back to take the reins.
Hopefully, that was a problem managed, and she could confidently tell the reps from Granite Insurance that they were on track, close to getting tenants in, and worthy of full coverage.
She’d spoken to the reps on the phone, back when she was searching for insurance before the tornado and again after it hit. They were based in New York and decided to come visit. She’d hoped D.J. would have finished the one whole unit before their arrival, but that hadn’t happened.
Libby was nervous. She needed to convince them that this town was a good bet. Continuing to insure Libby’s projects was smart business. Since the project wasn’t where she wanted it to be, she’d take the reps to see her success stories instead.
Siena’s store was a hot spot, and people came from all over the state to see her unique take on home décor. The Mercantile was hopping, and of course, Hope’s place barely ever had an empty table. Libby had also just signed a lease for a quirky new bookstore to open in the space between the mercantile and the restaurant.
There was only one vacant spot left. She knew the lakeside of the street rehabilitation was an unqualified success.
Libby’s office, when she wasn’t working from Nora House, was in the final vacant space. She’d swept the floor, alerted the rest of the tenants that they were getting a visit from the insurance bigwigs, and set coffee and muffins out.
She was ready to go to bat for Irish Hills again.
The door opened precisely at 9 a.m., and in walked the suit. It was an expensive suit. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. Her eyes traveled from loafers to necktie, and then the jury was in. It was bad.
The suit in question was none other than Stone Stirling.
They’d come a long way in nine months, given that she’d tried to punch him out back then. And he’d done an amazing job with the grocery store, admittedly. He clearly felt they’d come a long way, too, or he’d have his hands up, ready to deflect an attack.
