Bethany tried to smile, but it was too much. So she nodded and blew her nose into the tissues and tried to think about what to do next.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“You need to eat,” Blackie said, sipping a Guinness. He wasn’t much older than Hank, but a premature white spot on his dark hair gave him the appearance of maturity. “Elizabeth said you’ve lost weight.”
They sat in a booth in Hank’s favorite restaurant, known for its exclusivity and extraordinary seafood. Hank studied the menu, but nothing seemed appetizing. “You sound like a father.”
Blackie cackled. “I am a father. For God’s sake, eat, my man. Even my three-year-old eats better than you.”
Hank sighed. Nothing tasted as good as Bethany’s cooking. His cell phone buzzed next to his hand. His father. He ignored it. “Quit your nagging. I’ll order a hamburger.”
Blackie raised his glass. “A toast.”
Hank clinked his glass against Blackie’s, but more from habit than celebration.
“To your recent success. And—I have a buyer eager to cut a deal.”
“Cut a deal?”
“For the Cleveland building, of course. If you’re notgoing to convert the structure into a fitness center, then you’ll need to sell it. I have a buyer.”
“I’m not interested in selling.”
“They’re willing to pay top dollar.”
Hank sat forward and fingered his glass. “Who is it?”
“It’s not a single person, it’s a conglomerate, a real estate company who’ll turn it into a high-class apartment complex. They like the location, so near to downtown.”
Hank pressed his lips together. “No.”
“Now, Hank?—”
“I said no. End of discussion. I’m not selling to a real estate conglomerate.”
“You’d be foolish not to. They’re willing to offer one and a half mil—more than the building’s worth to you and triple what you paid for it. You’ll make a killing.”
“I’m not interested in making a killing. I want to make sure whoever owns it will allow the tenants to continue renting.”
“You’ll never find a buyer willing to make that deal. Whoever owns it will make more by turning it into something new than continuing to rent the space.”
His cell phone buzzed again. His dad was persistent. This was the fifth time he’d called today. The old man must be desperate for money. He bit his lip to stop from hurling the device across the room. “I won’t have it turned into something new.”
“Be reasonable, Hank. The building needs attention. You can’t continue to own it without investing in it. It’s an expensive proposition. I urge you to reconsider.”
“No. End of story.” He raised his hand. “I mean it.”
“All right,” Blackie grumbled, downing the contents of his glass.
Hank’s cell phone buzzed again. Across from him, Blackie glowered. “You need to answer that?”
“Nah, it’s no one important.” Hank silenced the call, picked up his glass, and followed Blackie’s example, but it couldn’t dull the pressure behind his eyelids.
Bethany totaledthe money in the drawer for the third time and tried to stop the butterflies from coursing through her system. It had been nearly two weeks since Hank had left, and there was no way they would have enough to pay next month’s rent and buy the supplies needed to keep the place open. She groaned before she realized Travis could hear her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pausing from his job sweeping the floor.
She busied herself by checking the bakery items. There were two chocolate donuts and one banana muffin left in the case. “We need to be on the list when they announce the finalists tomorrow.”
