"Charlie had a lawyer look over the contract. He still swears that he only agreed to a section of the land, but it's written clearly in the contract with his signature two paragraphs down."
"And he has a copy of the original contract?"
Nelson gives me a look and I know why. My whole tone has changed. My mind is supplying images of my dad and colleagues celebrating with elaborate dinners after closing deals that screwed over small businesses. He'd hide the jargon in pages of contracts, promise the people they would take care of them, and then turn around and either reconstruct or totally tear down that business. Once I realized what was going on, I hated my dad for that. I hated my mom for going along with it, and my older brother for joining him.
"I'm assuming that is the original contract," Nelson says. "I wasn't there when he signed it, but it has the letterhead and all that. He's tried to talk to them, but obviously they aren't budging. They're suppose to be coming by the farm next week to survey or something."
I move back around the desk and pack up my own things before we head out of the classroom together. I have to get some things done, so I'm planning on heading to my office across campus for a bit. I have half a thought to ask to see the contract, but I don't want to overstep. I'm sure it's just a shitty situation. There's a chance they could still counter offer. There are options and laws that could potentially protect the seller depending on what the contract states, but I don't know if it would get their hopes up.
"Are you not heading home?" Nelson asks. I stepped out of the elevator with the intention of heading across campus instead of the direction of the parking lot.
"Oh, no sorry. I'm heading to my office to get some things done. Have to actually do my job from time-to-time."
"Have you eaten today yet?" Nelson gives me a look that tells me he already knows the answer. I have the tendency to not eat when I have an early morning. I made the mistake of telling him that the other day. "I'll go grab some lunch, if you want, and meet you in your office. What do you want to eat?"
"You don't have to do all that."
"My treat."
"You already paid for our dinner last night," I point out. His little trip to the restroom was also to secretly pay for our meal before anyone else could. I scolded him before he could get in his truck. He just laughed and gave me a wink before driving away. "I'll order us something so you don't have to drive back and forth."
"It really isn't a problem," Nelson says. I hold up a hand, wagging my finger back and forth to stop him.
"Nope, it's my turn to treat you." I let out a sigh as we walk out of the building. I turn around to face him and smile. "I'm thinking that Japanese place a couple blocks away. Have you been there?"
"Don't think I have," Nelson says. "I actually don't think I've ever had Japanese in general."
"Are you allergic to anything?" I pull out my phone as we walk and open the delivery app. Nelson confirms he isn't allergic to anything and I nod, picking out two different bowls and a couple of sides as well. There is bound to be something that he'll enjoy. I set the location for outside the office building before we head across campus. "It's so nice out today."
"It is," Nelson agrees. "I'm hoping there will be a little bit of rain this weekend, though. We need it on the farm. It'll be the last crop we sell so it needs to be good."
His tone is somber and I get a stabbing guilt in my stomach, even though it really isn't my business. I reach the door leading to the skybridge first and hold it open for Nelson to walk through. I made it a habit to stop in the middle of the bridge and look out to the left. The road we're crossing over has a perfect view of the mountains in the distance. In the mornings, the sun is just rising over the mountaintop. I have a couple photos on my phone of different days.
"I love the mix of small town and city life this place offers," I say as we start walking again.
"What was it like growing up in Chicago?" Nelson asks.
"I know I had a different side of Chicago than the average person," I start. "My parents lived in a penthouse for most of my life and I was chauffeured to and from places. But even still, there were only a few places I knew that gave you this kind of homey vibe. Chicago was a lot of crowds and noises. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was joining my parents for fancy dinners and events at the age of fourteen to entertain the clients' kids. I thought I was just getting to come along with them, but by the time I reached sixteen I realized what I was there for. The events and fun times I was having started to feel like a job soon after that."
I turn down a hallway and Nelson follows silently beside me. I know he asked about the city and not my personal life, but I haven't spoken to anyone other than Hayley about this. I don't know why it's so easy for me to spill all my thoughts to this guy.
"Was there anywhere you liked to watch the sunrise in Chicago?" I turn my face to him, a bit confused on the subject change. "I just noticed that you stopped to look at the view from the bridge."
"Oh, yeah. I like the view right there. We lived in a high rise so there was almost always a view to look at. It was one thing I liked about it, unless it was foggy that day, or rainy, because then the view was completely gone. It would feel a bit… uncanny."
"How so?"
"You get used to being able to see everything and then one morning you wake up and suddenly it's just a thick cloud completely covering your view. You couldn't see anything when it was really thick, but you know that it's a long way down to the ground. For safety reasons, of course, the windows didn't openbut a couple of inches. I'd stick my fingers outside to touch the clouds on those days."
"That sounds terrifying," Nelson says. I turn one more corner before we're at the door to my office. It's not very big, but there is a window that let's in a good amount of light.
"Feel free to sit there. I'll clean up some of these papers."
"Don't do it on my account," Nelson says. "I don't need a lot of space."
"Tell your shoulders that," I mumble. I didn't think he heard me, but his half-laugh, half-cough gives him away.
"What's wrong with my shoulders?" He shrugs, looking down at his chest. Naturally, my eyes also follow his and he definitely catches me looking at him. His laugh fills the room and I put my bag down on my seat.
