“It’s another letter about them throwing us out.”
“What?” Alina rushed over to her mailbox. In her rush, she fumbled with her keys. They fell to the tile floor with a loud jangle.
With a groan of frustration, she bent over to retrieve the keys. Once the little door was open, she withdrew her copy of the letter. Her gaze scanned down over it. The new owner was willing to pay them extra to move out by the new year. That wasn’t going to happen.
With her back to the front door, Alina faced her friend. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing Toliver can do to rush things. He has to wait ninety days before he can begin eviction proceedings.”
“But that’s in February. Even that’s not much time to find a new place to live.”
One of their youngest and newest residents, Jimmy Greene, came rushing past them. He gave a quick nod in greeting but kept going. He must have another interview lined up at a software company. He’d inherited his grandmother’s rent-controlled apartment and was now struggling to find a job in the competitive market of online video gaming.
The door creaked open and closed behind him, letting the cold winter air rush in around them. It also reminded Alina that she had to get a move on.
“We’ll figure something out,” Alina said, hoping her voice sounded encouraging. “Even if I have to go back to that awful man’s office building and stage another protest in the foyer until he agrees to meet with me. From what I’ve read, he inherited his position and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Well, that’s obvious.” She held up her copy of the letter as proof. “This isn’t going to change Stirling residents’ minds about moving. I’ve got to get to work. We’ll talk later.”
“I’ve got to get going, too. Remember, I have that weeklong seminar in LA. And then I’m spending the next couple of weeks in Wyoming with my parents. But I can cancel—the family visit, not the seminar—if you need me.”
“No. Go. Enjoy yourself. You haven’t seen your family in a year. I’ve got this.”
Uncertainty showed in Meg’s eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Keep me updated.”
“I will.” Alina gave her a brief hug. “We’ll talk soon.”
Alina spun around and immediately bumped into a solid force. She lifted her gaze, finding a tall man standing there. It was his brown eyes that immediately caught her attention. They were dark and mysterious. And she found herself drawn in by them.
The more she stared, the more she noticed a glint of irritation. Well, it wasn’t her fault he was standing in the middle of the foyer.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. And then she rushed right past him.
She’d have to run if she was to catch her train. She set off as quickly as she dared in the wet snow. As she kept moving, her thoughts returned to the mystery man in the lobby. Who was he? And what was he doing in her building? Well, it wasn’t her building but it was starting to feel that way because not only was she the building manager but she had also been unofficially elected to lead the charge to save the Stirling from being torn down and replaced by a flashy high-rise.
Though she didn’t relish the idea, perhaps it was time she made another visit to Mr. Toliver’s office. She’d been turned away before for not having an appointment. The problem was that every time she’d tried to set up an appointment, he was either away on business or unavailable for the foreseeable future. She was pretty certain they’d been delay tactics and he’d been in his office the whole time.
And when she’d staged a peaceful protest with other Stirling residents, hoping Mr. Toliver would no longer be able to ignore them, the police had been called. Her blood boiled every time she thought of that man avoiding her—avoiding the truth about the damage he was doing to people’s lives. The next time she wouldn’t be chased away so easily.
* * *
His teeth ground together.
Graham Toliver couldn’t believe those two young women had been bad-mouthing him—right in front of him no less. Surely they’d heard the outside door open when that young man held the door for him to enter.
Still, those women had kept talking, and not quietly, either. Hadn’t they heard his approaching footsteps? It wasn’t like he tiptoed around. Or hadn’t they cared who overheard them?
His muscles tensed. It was bad enough not having the confidence of his board but to have perfect strangers judge his qualifications to run his family’s business, well, that was quite another thing.
He was tempted to withdraw his very generous offer to get them to move out earlier. But he hesitated. He was a businessman above all else. He drew in a deep breath and then slowly blew it out.
He recalled the young woman with light blond hair and pink stripes streaked through it. When she’d bumped into him, their gazes had connected. For just a moment, it felt as though time had stood still. It was though he should know her, but he was positive they’d never met. He wouldn’t have forgotten those blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes.
No matter how cute he might find her, he couldn’t dismiss her words. Still, he shouldn’t let that rude woman’s words get to him. It was quite likely they’d never see each other again.
Instead of thinking of her mesmerizing eyes and how they’d made his heart jolt, he needed to focus on the reason for his visit. He was here to speak with the building manager. He withdrew a slip of paper from his pocket with a hastily scrawled name...
Did that say Al? He squinted. It didn’t help sort the squiggly line into letters. Now he was left to guess at the name. Alan? It seemed like a safe bet. As for the last name, it was easier to read. Martin. Alan Martin? Perhaps.
When he glanced up, he found he was alone in the lobby. He wasn’t used to people just strolling right by him like he was a nobody. At the office, people always wanted something from him. A signature here, an answer to a question there. It was always something. But at the Stirling Apartments, no one recognized him. Interesting.
For a moment, he wondered what it’d be like to not be the CEO of a billion-dollar business. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. That would never happen. Toliver Investments was his destiny. Without it, he’d be—well, he’d be nothing.
He made his way farther into the building. This Al or Alan guy shouldn’t be too hard to find as he was the building manager. And just like that, Graham happened upon a door with a black plaque that read Building Manager.
Graham rapped his knuckles on the door. No response. He checked the time. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock. Surely the guy would be at work by now. Didn’t everyone arrive early? His employees did.
Just as he raised his hand to knock once more, a door farther down the hall opened. An older man stepped into the hallway. They nodded to each other, then Graham turned his attention back to the door and knocked louder this time. Again, no sounds came from inside.
When the older man ambled down the hallway, Graham cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find...” He glanced at the slip of paper once more. “An Al or Alan Martin?”
A smile lifted beneath the man’s bushy white mustache. “Try the Christmas Café.”
Why would he try there? But before he could formulate the question, the man had disappeared onto the nearby elevator. Graham glanced around for someone else to ask but the hallway was empty.
It would have helped if his investigator had left him a phone number for the building manager. After all, he had to find this Al guy. He was obviously getting the tenants worked up about not moving—as was evidenced by the two young women Graham had encountered in the lobby.
He once more glanced at his Rolex. Time was ticking by and he’d missed breakfast this morning. He supposed a quick stop at the Christmas Café wouldn’t be so bad. He’d promised his board he’d make progress on getting the tenants to move out early—by the beginning of the year—because time was money and money spoke vo
lumes at board meetings.
And so he set off for the restaurant. Once he tracked down this Alan guy, Graham was determined they’d come to some sort of resolution. He just had to find out the guy’s price.
Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer F. Stroka
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ISBN-13: 9781488065392
Mediterranean Fling to Wedding Ring
Copyright © 2020 by Jessica Gilmore
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Mediterranean Fling to Wedding Ring Page 15