“It’s just part of our verification process. When a large property loss follows new financing, the claim is automatically red flagged for review.”
I’ve been so worried about the money side of things, paying back the loan and rebuilding, that it hasn’t occurred to me that it might raise questions. “Red flagged. You’re saying it looks suspicious.”
“I’m saying it requires documentation.” His flat, rehearsed tone doesn’t change. “I have your claim filed, photographs of the damage, and your most recent property tax statement. Now, if you’ll email the closing packet from your lender and any other loan documents, that’ll help clear this faster. It’s standard procedure when there’s new debt attached to a property.”
I rub at my temple. “I’ll send them. What about the hotel coverage? The policy includes temporary housing, correct?”
His pause answers before he does. “Normally that coverage applies, yes. But while your claim is flagged, we can’t authorize any disbursements until the initial review is completed. If the claim proceeds, we can reimburse reasonable costs later.”
The air in the office feels heavy. I can hear laughter from the dining room, the hiss of the fryer, the normal life I’msupposed to be living. “My house burned down two nights ago,” I say quietly. “I lost everything. I’ve paid into this policy for years and you’re telling me I’m shit out of luck.”
“I understand this is difficult. Once we have the documentation, we’ll move as quickly as possible,” he says, still maddeningly calm.
“Right.” My throat tightens, but I keep my voice steady. “I’ll send them shortly. When can I expect to hear back from you?”
“I’ll be in touch when the review is complete. If you haven’t heard from us in a week, feel free to call and check.”
The bastard has the audacity to end the call by telling me to have a good day.
It looks like I’m going to have to take Lee up on his offer—well, his demand—that I stay with him. At least for now. But not in his bed like the last two nights. We’ll have to draw some boundaries, which shouldn’t be difficult since Calli has assured me that he isn’t interested in relationships either. If he’s willing to put me up in his guest room, it’ll be fine.
That’s what I keep trying to tell myself about all of this. It’ll be fine.
It feels like I’ve spent half the day on the phone. My brothers reach out with an offer to stay with them, but they live out of state, and I’m not leaving the diner. At least one thing is going right. After working my ass off today, Lucky’s Coffee Bar is ready for business.
The faint smell of paint still hangs in the air but it’s fading. Another few days and it shouldn’t be noticeable, especially once we start brewing coffee. All the furniture has been moved in, and the place looks just like I envisioned. Even with the stress of the debt I’ve gone into to fund this, and everything that’s happened, nothing can wipe the smile off my face while I take a few pictures.
“You’re a hard person to get in touch with.”
I was wrong. Nobody wipes away a smile like a Matheson.
Austin leans against the doorway. Of course he’s stepped around the rope that holds theCLOSED TO CUSTOMERSnotice. Rules don’t apply to him, after all. He strolls in like he owns the place, with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. Every step he takes crawls under my skin.
“This section is closed,” I snap.
He sits on one of the stools near the door and leans an elbow on the table. “I saw that. I’m here to talk business.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck, but I keep my voice steady. I’m so tired of dealing with entitled ass men who think they run the world. “We’ve already talked. The answer’s no.”
Before he can reply, Camille strides in with a plate and drink in hand. She takes a seat at one of the tables against the wall. “Don’t mind me. Break time.”
Austin looks at her like she’s a gnat that won’t get out of his face, and I just know she tried to keep him from coming back here in the first place. I need to give her a raise. He turnshis focus back to me. “I was sorry to hear about your house. Total loss, isn’t it?”
My silent glare doesn’t discourage him from continuing. “You said no before, but now you’ve had some time to think. And I’m willing to throw another forty-thousand on top of my offer to compensate for these…” He looks around the room with a sneer before finishing. “Upgrades.”
The last time I was this pissed off, I knocked my cheating ex’s tooth out, kicked him in the balls, then spent the night in jail. Which Austin knows perfectly well since this town runs on gossip. I’m not going to let myself lose my temper. That’s what he wants.
“No. Let me make myself clear. I don’t want more money. There’s no amount you could offer that will change my mind. I’m not selling. Not now, not ever. That’s the end of it.”
Austin chuckles, shaking his head like I’m a stubborn child. “There’s no such thing as the end of it. Everything’s negotiable.”
“Not my family’s place.”
“You’re being sentimental.” The condescension in his voice makes me want to rip his tongue out. “Sentiment’s dangerous in business. You don’t want to end up on the wrong side of the town council, or the health department, or…” His voice trails off, letting silence do the work.
Blood thrums in my ears, but I shove down the rage and force out a light chuckle. “I was wondering when you’d resort to threats. The answer’s still no. Your father couldn’t get my mother to sell, and my grandmother turned your uncle down too. I’m continuing the tradition. That’s threegenerations that have told your family to fuck off, in case you’re counting. We’re done. No deal. No price. Take that back to your father, your uncle, all of them. I’m not selling.”
His smile drops as he stands, and I’m sure he wants me to be frightened of the scowl on his face. All I see is a toddler about to throw a tantrum because mommy didn’t give him what he wants. It’s satisfying to watch him struggle to reel in his temper. He glances over at Camille, who only grins at him and takes a bite of her sandwich. She looks like she’s watching a show and is thoroughly entertained.
