Win-win.
But it just doesn’t make any sense to me why McKay Capital Management would be pursuing this particular piece of land so aggressively, especially with the fight the Thatchers have put up against it. It’s not normally the strategy to pour resources into a real estate opportunity that’s not going to turn a quick profit. It doesn’t make any sense according to the business model we normally follow.
When I left Kirstin’s house and went into the office to meet Don, he was filled with a buoyant, bouncy sort of energy he usually gets when we identify a new venture to pursue.
“Come on,” he’d said, meeting me in the lobby and walking with me to the elevator. Don is an older man, with the kind of male pattern baldness that pushes back smoothly from his forehead, threatening to leave him with a ring of hair around the tops of his ears. “To my office, Callaghan.”
I’d followed him, ears starting to ring with the promise of a promotion that might be coming my way. Each time, there was the feeling that it would be justone more jobbefore I’d really proven my value, but this time, it felt more real. Something in the way Don looked—wolfish and hungry—that convinced me I was finally getting close to the tipping point.
Now, the way Evan is looking at me is making my skin flush—like he exacted more from me.
And there’s something about what he said.
“And if you try again, you’re just going to find yourself staring down the barrel of the same exact result.”
“That’s not true,” I finally say, lifting my head, heart pounding. “This timeisdifferent, because there’s more legal precedence, Evan. McKay Capital Management already has the town council on their side with this one, considering the accident that happened because the land and road weren’t properly maintained.”
“What do you mean—‘McKay Capital Management has the town council on their side’?”
Evan looks completely surprised by this, his mouth hanging slightly open. I don’t see why this would be a surprise to him. He lives all the way up here in the mountains and clearly doesn’t make much of a life for himself in the town.
I close my eyes and think about the meeting I had with Don before I started the treacherous drive up the side of this mountain.
The way he’d painted this entire thing as being very cut-and-dry—negligence on the land, a town government willing to take the property away from the guy, and likely an owner who would be ready for retirement and happy for a little money in his pocket.
I never imagined someone like Evan when Don described this situation.
When I open my eyes, Evan is standing there, staring down at me, his dark hair looking a little neater than it did the day before—did he trim it? Tame down the scruff for me?
I try to shake my head clear of the thought. He is handsome—the kind of man who draws gazes to him. Those deep, sky-at-dusk eyes and the intense beard. His height, the round of his biceps, and the gentle line of his forearms, clearly strong and dusted with hair the same deep brown color as what’s on his head.
The sun hangs low in the sky, silhouetting him in the golden afternoon light, and I reach over for my water glass, tacos forgotten, to take a quick sip, my throat actually gone dry at the sight of him.
I barely know this man, and yet, for some reason, I feel safe around him. Safe, and completely outside of my comfort zone.
“There was a report that a fallen tree on the land caused a car accident,” I say softly, not able to meet his eye, thinking about the way he’d come to save me last night from being trapped under that exact tree. “And that report, apparently, combined with the efforts of my higher-ups, was enough to get the council on board with seizing the land. They’re already planning for it to go to a vote at the next open session. That could be as early as late winter, early spring. If you don’t take the money from McKay Capital Management, Evan, you could walk away with nothing from this.”
When I force myself to look up and meet his eye again, he looks stricken. Blue sits at his right ankle, glancing between the two of us, letting out a low whine.
Maybe she can’t speak English and has no clue what we’re saying, but she can pick up on the vibes, which have fallen dramatically from the moment we sat down at the table together.
When we moved over here and settled across from one another, I had the strangest feeling. Sort of like we were on some sort of date, and also like I’d been doing domestic, everyday tasks with Evan my entire life.
That same calm from the fishing shack wormed its way through me, startling in its simplicity. Like the feeling you get when you move out of an apartment and walk into a room that was once filled with furniture, only to see it completely empty. It’s like I’ve come home to a vacant house after picking my way around, stepping over furniture and clutter.
Except now that feeling is gone, replaced with something sticky and heavy, filling up my chest and dripping down into my stomach.
Something that feels a lot like guilt.
Finally, after a long moment passes, Evan clears his throat and shakes his head, walking away from me so his voice sounds quieter, saying, “The fallen tree. Of course. Makes a lot of sense.”
“What are you talking about?” I push the folder away from me like the paper is burning my skin. Looking at it is making it a bit hard for me to breathe.
For a long moment, Evan paces back and forth, his hand rubbing over his chin, his eyes moving like he’s processing his thoughts.
“Evan,” I say, after a full minute, “what are you saying? About the tree?”
He slows to a stop, raising his head and meeting my eyes. Evan holds the stare for a moment, then says, “That tree didn’t fucking fall on its own, Amy.”
