07:29 Matthew:YES
*
It shouldn’t havebeen that easy—a flight to New Orleans, a spicy meal, and two days buried in my hot blonde—but that was all it took to unwind the deep knot of tension in my neck and the numbers in my head.
“Look at this: clean-shaven, sharp clothes, no bitter scowl. What a difference a weekend makes. Speaking on behalf of the tribe, it’s delightful to see you’ve dislodged the steel I-beam that was in your ass, Matt,” Sam said as I took my seat around the attic conference table. “Even if you are ten minutes late.”
“Hells yeah,” Riley said. “Did you say hi to Miss Honey for me?”
“For everyone’s safety and sanity, it’s fair to say that Lauren isn’t allowed to leave town without you anymore,” Patrick said.
I indulged their ribbing with a self-deprecating shrug, busying myself with testing the temperature of my coffee and adjusting the volume settings on my phone. I knew her conference would keep her tied up through the evening, but I wanted to know immediately if she messaged, and I didn’t care if Patrick lost his shit over it either.
For once, the firm and this job weren’t coming first. Lauren was.
“So it went well?” Shannon asked.
I studied my screen as I formulated a response. I wanted to keep my weekend with Lauren in a private place far from the ravenous purview of my siblings. At times, I regretted holding Shannon at an arm’s length when I shared so much with Erin, but Shannon required more explanation, and she wanted to analyze everything beyond recognition. I knew last night’s quick text when I landed at Logan was inadequate, but it was the best I could give her then, and probably the only thing I could give her now.
Looking up, I met her glare with an even expression. “Yeah.”
“Christ almighty, you are impossible! What happened? What’s the deal with you two?”
“Not during my meeting, Shan,” Patrick said. “Today’s agenda is packed and I have a nine o’clock consult. We need to get moving.”
“Okay people, let’s get high-level updates on projects, whiz bang fast,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “Sammy, you start.”
I half listened as Sam walked through his current work, turning my attention to my weekend emails. I’d plowed through several hundred at the airport and during my flight last night, but many more appeared early this morning. All of my masonry contractors were working straight through the weekends wherever city regulations and building permits allowed, getting in as much time as possible before snow and frozen earth made their craft substantially more difficult. Famously unpredictable, Boston winter weather could bring my stonework to a grinding halt, and I needed to wrap up several projects before the first major snowstorm.
My thoughts turned to Lauren and I pictured her curled up next to the fireplace at my loft, watching a storm blow in off the water. The idea of being snowed in with Lauren landed in my chest, and my heart beat harder, heavier. I barely noticed when Riley leaned toward me and tapped my arm.
“Dude.”
I refocused on my siblings, quickly realizing that four pairs of eyes were staring at me. Sam pressed his fist to his mouth, a poor attempt at concealing his smirk, and said, “We need to take a minute to observe this. Many moons will pass before anyone else at this table shows up looking quite this love-drunk.”
“Updates?” Shannon prompted, her knowing smile a stark contrast to Patrick’s bland scowl.
“Back Bay properties are down to punch lists, and I’m going to spend most of the day sitting on the GC to get them knocked out,” I said. “Shan, plan to list them in a week or two. HVAC and flooring upgrades are finished at Trench, and framing and drywall are on track for this week. Newton is a mess because the homeowner has requested a fifth floor plan overhaul. North End needs a foundation rebuild, as I predicted two months ago, and we’re pouring concrete tomorrow.”
“Add an extra twenty percent to Newton. Call it the dicking around fee,” Patrick said, his eyes focused on his master spreadsheet of projects, timelines, and budgets. I envied no part of that. “What about Angus’s Bunker Hill buys?”
“RISD, you got this?” I glanced over to Riley, waiting for a confident response. I spent weeks coaching Riley through the process and overseeing the development of his proposal, and despite Angus’s pissing and moaning, I knew he had some strong, unique ideas for the four properties no one wanted to touch.
“Yeah,” he stammered. “I drafted a few different scenarios. Depending upon whether we’re going for single-family, multi-family, or mixed use.” He spread his designs over the center of the table, pausing while Patrick, Shannon, and Sam studied his work.
“That’s interesting,” Sam mused, pointing to one of the designs. Patrick nodded in agreement, and I sensed Riley’s anxiety multiplying as the minutes passed. He still couldn’t manage to zip his fly or make it to the office without spilling coffee on his perennially wrinkled clothes, and it didn’t appear he owned any socks, but I was starting to see some potential. His work clearly reflected a different approach than the one Sam, Patrick, and I shared, but after some fine-tuning, I liked it.
“What’s your recommendation?” Patrick asked.
Riley turned expectant eyes to me, and I nodded in encouragement. “That area’s coming up fast, but it’s mostly triple deckers and apartments. Not a lot of single-family. The data seems to indicate that the few single-family properties listed sell in days.”
Patrick studied the designs again. “Have you approved these?” he asked, pointing the papers at me.
“Yeah. Everything checks out.”
Patrick nodded and pushed the papers back toward Riley. “RISD, you’re still Matt’s shadow. Do this, do this well, do everything Matt says, and we’ll talk. Shan, look into the Charlestown market to be sure about the SFH demand and get some conservative sales estimates by midweek. Let’s look at bottom lines before we lift a hammer. And someone get Angus to decide how much we’re investing without letting him in the office, please.”
“I can do that.” Riley shrugged indifferently, but I noticed him biting back a proud smile.
