Page 26 of Make-Believe Match

She looked over at me. “You’d met before, I hear.”

“We’d met. But I don’t really want to discuss it.”

“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”

“I suppose. If you like that slick, suit-and-tie type.”

“I bet he looks just fine out of his suit and tie as well.”

“Gran!” I couldn’t help laughing a little.

“I was just wondering if you might be able to confirm that,” she said, as if her question was completely innocent.

“No comment.” I took a slurp of tea. Above our heads, a flock of Canadian geese honked noisily as they headed south.

A moment later, Gran said, “I spoke with Quentin.”

I froze. Quentin was Snowberry’s longtime accountant. “And?”

“And he advised me to cancel any existing reservations starting November first.”

“Gran, no!” I sat up straight, my tea sloshing over the edge of the mug onto my work pants.

“Closing down then would allow us to offer our employees a fair severance package. Those who have stayed with us deserve that, Alexandra.”

“I just need more time!”

“Darling, I wish I could give it to you. But I’m afraid if you don’t have the necessary funds by the end of the month, I’m going to follow Quentin’s advice.” Her expression was grave. “And then I’m going to accept Black Diamond’s offer. It’s the best we can hope for.”

SIX

devlin

As expected,my boss was not happy when I returned to the office on Wednesday morning without the keys to Snowberry in my pocket.

“What the fuck, Buckley?” Harvey B. Hotchkiss II of Hotchkiss Properties glowered at me with beady eyes from behind his desk. “You said this was going to be a slam dunk.”

“It should have been.” I ran a hand through my hair. “There was a bit of a complication.”

“What complication?” He looked at the folder open on his desk. “I’m staring at the financials right here, and it’s plain as fucking day they need to sell. If they’re not selling to our client, they’re selling to someone else.”

“They’re not selling to anyone else. The complication is just a granddaughter who’s hell-bent on saving the farm.”

He cracked his knuckles. “What if Black Diamond upped the offer?”

“It’s not about the money. It’s sentimental. She just doesn’t want to let it go.”

“Jesus Christ.” Harvey glared at me, pointed a pudgy finger in my direction. “That’s your fucking job, Buckley. You talk people into things they don’t want to do.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Working on it?” He shoved a wad of gum in his mouth, jumped up from his chair, and started pacing. He was a heavyset man in his late fifties with a receding salt-and-pepper hairline and thick jowls. His forehead wore a sheen of sweat. “Black Diamond is losing patience. My father’s about to come out of retirement and fire me because he thinks I put someone incompetent on the job. My wife’s driving me fucking crazy with all the money she’s spending on McKenna’s wedding, and I can’t even have a cigarette because my doctor told me I’m going to die if I don’t quit.”

“I’m sorry, Harvey. I’ll get it done. I just need a little more time.”

“You’ve got two weeks to wrap this thing up and tie a fucking bow on it, or I’m giving the account to Bob Oliver.”

My hands balled into fists. Because fuck Bob Oliver.