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The Christmas We Built

Page 43

by Kelly Collins

My father would have approved.

That thought got me off the bed. At three in the morning, I stood at the window with my hands on the sill, watching traffic move through a city that had no idea I was there. My suit bag hung on the closet door.

The Meridian Group occupied three floors of a tower in the financial district. I arrived at seven forty-five. On the corner, a charity Santa rang his bell while office workers hurried past him. I dropped a twenty into his bucket.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

He was the only person on the block willing to admit it was December.

Crane was already in the conference room. Janet Park sat beside him with a tablet, and four partners looked as though they had been waiting long enough to resent me. “Griffin. Thank you for coming down.”

I took the chair he’d left me, the one facing the windows, with the morning sun coming in flat off the glass across the street.

“The board reviewed Holly Creek,” Crane said. “You’re behind schedule, you haven’t signed a single lease, and the block still isn’t earning money. Sign the partnership agreement you rejected in October, or Meridian withdraws its support publicly.”

“Paragraph nine doesn’t give Meridian any rights to my six buildings until January fifteenth, and only if I fail to begin the approved repairs.”

“Correct.”

“Then Meridian has no legal leverage today.”

“Not over the buildings.” Crane squared the folder. “I made sure your bank looked at everything else.”

“You called my lender.”

“I asked the chief credit officer whether his bank had reviewed how much cash you committed to Holly Creek while two Portland projects sat unfinished. We belong to the same club. He takes my calls. The bank chose to review the draws.”

“A review isn’t a default.”

“No. It’s a delay. Your Friday payroll won’t care what we call it.”

“A month ago, you wanted these buildings.”

“I still do.”

“Then why help me keep them? If I miss January fifteenth, Meridian can exercise the option.”

“And I get six buildings that need millions in repairs, merchants who hate me, and a town council that will fight every permit I request.” Crane leaned back. “Forty percent of a project you can finish is worth more than all of one I have to drag through town.”

That was the first honest reason he had given me.

Crane tapped the public agenda beside his folder. My name and Nora’s appeared under the nine o’clock council meeting.

“You’re supposed to be in Oregon in seventy-five minutes,” he said. “Instead, you’re sitting here.”

“That tells you I’ll miss a meeting. It doesn’t tell you the town has abandoned the project.”

“Fair.” He squared the folder. “It tells me your project needs you in two places and you can only afford to be in one.”

“How long is the partnership offer open?”

“Until five.”

“The option still doesn’t mature until January fifteenth.”

“I know.”

At nine, I carried updated financials to my bank’s credit committee. They asked for an additional cash reserve I did not have and kept the draws on hold until I could provide it or satisfy them another way.