Savannah smiled and slid off his lap. “I think we checked out quite a while ago.”
The next evening Harlanmet Logan and Eli at Logan’s house. Or mansion, Harlan thought with a grin as he banged on the door.
Logan opened the door and asked, “Why didn’t you ring the bell?”
“Because I couldn’t find the damn thing,” Harlan retorted. “This is how the rich and famous live, huh?”
Eli appeared in the doorway to one of the rooms. “You should see the rest of the mausoleum.”
“Screw you,” Logan said without heat. “Are we playing poker or are you ladies going to discuss decorating?”
“Poker,” Eli and Harlan both said.
Logan led the way to a room on the first floor that might have once been one of those useless rooms fancy-ass houses had. “This I can handle.” Simply put, it was a man cave. Along with a poker table, there was a pool table. There was a leather couch with leather side chairs and a gleaming dark wood coffee table. There was a bar and a refrigerator, which Harlan assumed was full of beer.
“So, is that where you watch your own movies, Logan?” Eli asked, pointing at the enormous flat screen mounted TV that covered almost an entire wall.
“No, asshole. That’s where I watch football.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Harlan said. “Is this the only...comfortable room in the house?”
“My bedroom is fine. But I gave the decorator specific instructions for my bedroom and this room. I let her do whatever to the rest of the house.” He rolled his eyes. “How the hell was I to know she’d go nuts?”
Logan went to the refrigerator and came back with three beers, gave each of them one, then sat down to deal. “Texas Hold’em,” he said. “Not one of those weird-ass games you like to slip in,” he said to Eli.
“Hey, deuce-to-seven triple draw is a perfectly respectable game,” Eli said.
“Sure it is,” Harlan said. “For weird-ass people.”
They talked about the winery and their plans for it while they played. The buildings would be more utilitarian than esthetically pleasing, although they wanted the wine tasting room and main entry to be unusual as well as appealing.
“What would you two say to building a restaurant?” Eli asked.
“I’d be happy to build it, but I didn’t know you two were even thinking about having one.”
“Neither did I,” said Logan.
“Because I didn’t decide I wanted to do it until recently.”
“I get it,” Logan said. “It’s the redheaded baker, right? You want her to run it.”
“Rachel,” Eli said. “And yes, but Rachel isn’t the only reason. I think Whiskey River could support another nice restaurant. So far the only nice one we have is Baron’s Steakhouse. Our restaurant would be more European.”
“It’s something to think about,” Logan conceded.
“What do you think, Harlan?” Eli asked. “Can Whiskey River support another restaurant?”
“If you build it by the winery you won’t be limited to just Whiskey River. You’re going to draw from a much larger area.”
“Good point,” Logan said. “But restaurants are risky investments.”
“Rachel knows what she’s doing,” Eli said. “And with us and the winery backing it, I think we could do well.”
“Speaking of investments,” Harlan said. “One of my contacts, a very dependable one, told me earlier today that Savannah’s father invested heavily in a multimillion-dollar real estate land development deal.”
“So? Is that a problem?” Logan asked.
“Yes. The other two investors didn’t have the money, and they got a little creative over how to get it. Now they’re in jail, accused of investment advisor fraud, awaiting a grand jury’s decision as to whether or not to prosecute them. It sounds like a slam dunk that they will go to trial. Even if they get off, which is doubtful, they won’t have the money. But Taylor’s money is tied up in it. Now he’s responsible for the whole thing.”
