And then I begin doomscrolling while I wait for Gam to grace me with her presence.
All around me, friends and families dine together in luxury. My grandmother, who is never one to accept less than the best possible option, picked the most expensive place she could find. Probably because she knew it was all coming out of a fund my father set up for her, and throwing away his money gives her the same warm, fuzzy feeling I get whenever I put his name on a building that actually does some good for the world.
I disagreed with most of the decisions he made in life, but he did get a few right in death.
The sentiment has me thinking about the apartmentsI’ll eventually build across the street. The troublemaker in me wants to draw up plans and get them approved so the damn construction goes away and then back out of the deal, but something tells me Mayor Reed will find some other way to be a nuisance.
I just hope Gam's park visits are worth it, because this project is shaping up to be a hell of a lot more complicated than I thought it would be.
And that’s before I even factor in Evelyn Harper.
The thought of her has me navigating to her Instagram.
I sent her a gift basket earlier today that included all her favorite snacks. While I would normally do flowers or an Edible Arrangements sort of deal, something told me Evelyn Harper would be harder to crack than that.
And when I saw that picture on her Instagram, I couldn’t help the grin from spreading across my face.Thatwould get me in her good graces.
But… she hasn’t reached out to thank me yet. I know she has my card.
Or maybe she burned it the second I left.
When I get to her page, I see she’s posted a new photo.Anotherpicture of the sunflower fields.
I mean, they’re cool and everything, but can we get over the sunflowers already? Having spent the majority of my adult life in Manhattan showed me that this town’s obsession with sunflowers borders on psychotic. And the fact that she owns the sunflower farm andstillseems just as obsessed with them as everyone else?
There must be something in the water around here.
I click into the picture, noting that my property is almost perfectly framed from that vantage point.
And then I see the caption.
Nice try, but a little bit of chocolate isn’t going to make things easier for you.
I purse my lips as I read it again. And again. And once more after that.
So shedidreceive my basket, but suffice it to say, she’s not impressed.
And I guess I gave myself away a little bit, getting the exact snacks she had on her page.
I let out a long breath, pressing the little heart on the picture because if she already knows I’m looking, what does it hurt? She’s not going to scare me off by telling me she knows how I figured out her favorite snacks.
The reality is, I need something from her, and she knows it, but I’m not going to give her the opportunity to say no and dig her heels in before I think there’s achanceshe might be okay with it.
And while I truly intend to forge a healthy working relationship with her, I’m not opposed to fighting a little dirty if I have to. I already know she’s renting out the barn illegally, which is a nice little chip to have in my back pocket, but I’m sure there’s something worse she’s hiding. Not that I think she’s a bad person or anything.
It’s just… I know from experience that as one person running an empire—whatever size that empire might be—it’s impossible to know everything. And while I have lawyers on retainer to help me, she has nothing but farmhands, gift shop girls, and tenuous-at-best relations with the local government.
Not exactly a recipe for success.
It is, however, a great recipe for getting her to agree to an easement. If it comes to that.
I really hope it won’t.
I scroll through her Instagram, taking in one sunflower picture after another.
And then… a picture of her in front of the sunflowers. Dark blue dress with flimsy, see-through sleeves. It flares out mid-thigh over long, muscular legs capped with tiny, strappy heels. Her hair is down, in pretty waves that fall over her shoulder as her head tips back mid-laugh.
The picture captures her chaotic energy. She’s not posing or putting on an air for the camera, and though anyone could look at this picture and tell that she’s dressed up for something, it’s not the pretty dress or the perfectly done hair I notice.
