Did I just buy a very expensive pile of bricks?!!!
I quickly find the email sent from the surveyor, which actually only came in this morning, and I make a mental note of thanks again that he didn’t read this days ago. I scan through the report and when I’ve finished I sit back, because in reality I don’t know the answer to the question. But I can see why he’s extremely concerned. I need to talk to him, but he’s not the first person I call, as I need to put a few things in place beforehand.
My first call is to Nolan to make sure he knows what’s going on. He’s my business partner, so he has a right to know everything.
“Do you want me to handle it?” he asks, though I know he already has his hands full with his own project, so I decline his offer but ask if Hartley’s available tomorrow. Next I call Hartley and tell him I’m sending him the report to read, and we make arrangements for the next day. I also call the surveyor while loading up the airline’s website. You don’t keep billionaire clients by not being available when they need you, so I need to be on the next flight back to the UK. Once I have everything in place I call Chase.
He made his money in finance and is very good at making shrewd investments. Even though he wanted a unique and exclusive property, I know he’ll be looking at it as an investment and an asset, so right now he’s going to be worrying that he’smade a bad choice, which would not only hurt his pride on a personal level, but could also reflect badly on his business.
“Chase, it’s Reece Fisher,” I say as soon as he answers, and I hear him blow out a breath.
“Thank god. Please tell me I didn’t just make the worst decision of my life?”
“I’m sure you haven’t.” I’m not going to lie to him, but I do want to reassure him somehow. “Technical reports are hard to fully understand. So I think we need to hear it from the surveyor, in front of what he’s referring to. I’ll also have our building expert on hand. How about ten a.m. tomorrow so you can ask anything you want?”
“Hold on.” The phone goes silent for a short while before he speaks again. “Okay, yes, I can make ten o’clock.”
“Great, I’ll see you then, and then we can get all the facts.” I go to ring off.
“Wait. Where are you?” he asks.
“South Carolina.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you in the morning, Chase.” I ring off before he can say anything else. I need to go and pack; I have twenty hours to get to Oxfordshire.
I run upstairs to pack.
“What’s going on?” my mom asks, standing in the doorway to my room. I quickly fill her in on what’s happening.
“I’ll be back by Friday,” I add when she looks disappointed. I’d planned to stay another couple of weeks, and there’s no way I’m missing out on that. Not only do I want to spend more time with my mom, but I can’t leave things as they are with Holden. But maybe giving him a few days’ space wouldn’t be a bad idea. At least that’s what I convince myself as I hug my mom and Marina goodbye and drive toward the airport.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Holden
“Hi, Holden.” At the sound of a familiar voice, I look up from where I’m restocking the crochet hooks.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fisher,” I call out, and I see she has someone with her, a woman I’ve never seen before. I go back to my work while they browse, and I can hear them talking in low tones with an occasional high note of exclamation. I hope it’s my stock that’s causing it. They take their time and a couple of other customers, also regulars, come into the store and I serve them. By the time they make their way over to the counter, I’ve finished restocking the accessories and I’m trying to decide if I should relocate the buttons or not.
“This is my friend Marina, from England,” Mrs. Fisher says as she puts her yarn on the counter.
“P-pleased to meet you,” I reply and give her my attention. She’s a knitter if her clothes are any indication.
“And you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says, her accent sounding strange to my ears. I try not to grimace, as I’m not sure what she’s heard, but she must have seen my face anyway.
“All good of course,” she adds quickly and I try to relax a little.
“Did you knit your sweater?” I ask. It’s brightly colored, made of floral squares.
“My cardigan? Yes I did, and it has pockets.” She puts her hands in them in a proud demonstration and laughs delightedly.
“It’s great, s-super bright and fun.”
“Holden knits his own sweaters too,” Mrs. Fisher adds, and I nod in affirmation, though I’m just in a button-down today as it’s too hot to do the restocking in a sweater.
“This is a lovely wool shop,” Marina says, glancing around, and I can’t help smiling at the different terminology.
