by Jean Oram
“I dropped off an offer with you?”
“Yes.”
“I was wondering if you had come to a conclusion?”
Maya wondered if he meant to sound as though he was playing that kids’ game where you had to make every sentence a question or else you lost and had to suffer a knuckle rap from your siblings. She supposed he was feeling her out and attempting to be nonthreatening so he could get what he wanted. A typical man, in other words. “The offer is valid until mid-August, according to the papers.”
“Yes, yes. It is. I was just checking to see if you had any questions or concerns.” He passed her a business card, seemingly having broken out of his game.
“Why do you want our island?”
“We’re developing across the water.”
“What are you doing over there, anyway?”
“Spiffing up the place.”
“That I can see.” There were permit signs posted all over the place and every stitch of heritage was being striped away as if a pile of termites had been dumped on a woodpile.
“Do the Fredericksons still own the blue cottage? I thought I saw them on the dock the other day.”
“The holdouts?” Aaron cleared his throat, pressing a fist over his mouth. “The Fredericksons, yes. Yes, still there.”
“Hmm. What do they think of all the construction you’re doing?”
“Did you have any questions about the offer?”
“Your offer is a bit of a lowball. I doubt my partners will go for it. This island has been in the family for over a century.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened and he stared up at the green building behind her. “I see.”
“Maybe if you added a few tens of thousands, we might get a little more serious about discussing the offer.”
“Your structure needs quite a lot of work.”
“And how would you know that?”
“It’s quite old. It looks original.”
“How do you know we haven’t kept it like new?”
He swallowed and stole a glance at the leaning boathouse. It was rather obvious they hadn’t, but his assumptions were starting to annoy her. A man like Aaron wanted their cottage only to destroy it.
“I think it is a fair offer,” he said.
“Well then, we’ll be sure to let you know whether we agree by the deadline.” Maya turned to walk up the path.
“You could make a counteroffer.”
She gave a shrug as though considering it. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
The man straightened his suit jacket and stepped into his rowboat, windmilling his arms to regain his balance when the boat jerked and rocked on its tether.
Maya rolled her eyes and continued up the path, hoping he’d fall in.
* * *
Connor strolled down the old Milan cobblestone street, miles from the Teatro Alla Scala where he would enjoy Don Chisciotte that evening. Everything from the locals’ laid-back manner to the fountains reminded him how much he missed Muskoka and his daily swim. The smiles of the women made him think of Maya, particularly when their gazes strayed down his physique in blatant appreciation.
And yet he was in Italy. Alone.
If he was honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t come here to finally see an opera, but to try and outrun the voices in his head that were arguing Maya’s case. She’d brought up a lot of seemingly good points against James, and Connor was finding many reasons why she should still have a job despite everything.
He wandered past a café that smelled heavenly. Coffee? Pastries?
Connor glanced down at his gut. Maya had helped fill him out a bit. He felt good, stronger. He’d enjoyed being able to walk all afternoon despite the jet lag. But would adding a stimulant and sugar set him back, or was he being too hard on himself? How often did he get to enjoy a real espresso in a little Italian café? Coming here was one of the promises to himself that he’d never honored, and the aromas were seriously tempting his senses.
Should he do it?
He sat on a stone bench and watched children splashing in an ancient fountain while he waited for the urge to break his new habits to pass. Did any of his resolutions matter if he wasn’t going to get the girl?
He’d changed while in Muskoka, though, and he still hadn’t quite figured out what it meant. All he knew was that the old Connor would have listened, checked into Maya’s issue, resolved it and carried on even stronger than before.
Maybe he needed purpose. Something that would perk him up, like Maya’s side project had done to her. It had boosted her drive in a way that was sexy as all get-out. He remembered that feeling of having a new project that was so exciting and thrilling you couldn’t help but smile. He’d had that years ago, but had since lost it somewhere.
Maybe that was what he was missing. Not balance, but purpose. Back when he’d started his business, his goal had been to earn enough money to float a small country. He’d done it. He’d climbed to the top and shouted “I’m the king of the castle.”
In hindsight, he could see that that was when he’d begun to falter. There had been nowhere else to go from the top but down. Without another purpose, he’d blindly flailed on, struggling to maintain his position. The only thing that had been driving him forward was a fear of failure, and of a dirty rascal knocking him off his mountain.
Connor rubbed his arms, shivering. The day had grown cold and the old-fashioned streetlights were coming on, twinkling off the worn cobblestones. The children who’d been playing in the fountain were gone, leaving the square silent and empty. He turned up the street, stumbling on the stones as he made his way back to his quiet, lonely room.
Making a change in his life felt harder and riskier than it had when he’d had nothing. Now, he had everything to lose, but was slowly realizing that none of it had been worth a thing to begin with.
* * *
Where the hell was Connor? Had he left the island? There was stuff strewn about his room, but it appeared as though his bag might be gone. Did he drown while swimming around the island? Had something happened to him in the storm? Or was he gone?
Maya climbed the slippery, lichen-covered rocks behind the cottage to call Em.
“Maya? What happened?”
“Do you know where Connor is?”
“He’s off to Italy—or rather, there already. He said he fired you?”
“He went to Italy?” Relief and anger scorched Maya’s gut. “Well, I guess that saves me from having the lake dredged.”
“He didn’t tell you he was leaving?”
“Why should he? He fired me.” The bitterness in her own voice almost brought her to tears. She’d always been one to let bad stuff roll off her back, making her stronger for the next time. But this…this was hitting her hard. “Did he say anything about a refund?”
“For what?”
“The rental and, uh, me. My assistant services.”
“No. Did you tell him about the lumberyard?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Well, don’t take it personally, Maya. He’s in a weird space right now.”
“I thought he was the kind of man who would at least hear me out.”
Em made a sympathetic noise, then paused before lifting her voice in triumph. “You will never believe the info I discovered at a function last night.”
Maya ran a finger over her thumbnail, her interest piqued even though she wouldn’t mind a tad more sympathy from Em.
“James,” she continued, “is a nephew of the financial officer who is in charge of the lumberyard’s accounts. And it seems as though this guy is the true owner, too. I’m looking into it, but get this.” She stopped sharply, and Maya wondered if underneath her excitement Em was actually pissed off. “The guy who did the evaluation on the lumberyard’s worth is a friend of James from way back.”
“You’re kidding!” Maya sat down hard on a rock, her tailbone protesting the poor treatment. “These can’t be coincidences. How did you discover this?” She stared at the sparkling fl
ecks of mica in the rock under her, unable to wrap her mind around the new information. James wouldn’t be so ballsy or dumb as to think he could get away with something so obvious, could he? Yet these two connections were in the very places she’d been unable to make the math work.
“A little eavesdropping,” Em said, “a copy of the guest list, a few files from the temp, and a bit of searching the net.”
“Damn, girl. You’re a regular James Bond.”
Em let out a pleased laugh. “So? What should we do now?”
“I got fired, Em. I’m out. Connor doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Pshaw! The Maya I know isn’t giving up already.”
“Connor didn’t want to hear what I had to say about my suspicions. He trusts James, not me. How do we even know Connor isn’t involved in the whole shebang?”
“He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve worked for him since he started.”
“So? People change.”
“I know Connor.”
“So?”
“He’s burned out. He’s always wanted someone to pick up the reins on a project—more than Bill and James have in the past—and so now that James is finally stepping up to bring in some profit, I think Connor’s reluctant to focus on how he’s doing it.”
Listen. Pause. Reflect. Connor wasn’t following his own advice.
“We need to get him to reflect on what I said about James,” Maya mused. The stubborn man was refusing to deal with anything business-related these days. How was she supposed to get him to reflect?
Connect.
She needed to connect the dots for him.
“We need a tight, incriminating package that will help Connor connect the dots, Em.”
“Well, then maybe I have something that will help with that. I did some research at the land titles office, too. I have an old roommate who works there.” She paused, as though waiting for praise from Maya. “Not a lot of lumberyards have been sold over the past few decades, but accounting for its size and inflation, I’m guessing this business was overvalued by about four hundred thousand dollars—which was exactly your guesstimate, based on your own research. Maybe we could use this to help him see what we see?”
Maya rubbed her forehead. “This isn’t good, Em.”
“I thought this was the kind of thing we were looking for?”
“I mean it’s not good for Connor.”
“I’ve got more.”
“Are you freaking kidding?” Maya bit her tongue to keep from swearing at the injustice of Em’s timing with this info. A day sooner and it might have kept Maya from being canned.
“I know. Sorry. Yesterday was just a really good day.”
“No, it’s okay.” Maya tried to strip the emotion from her voice. “Keep going.”
“At that function last night I saw James and his wife, so I started chatting her up. Turns out they just bought a second home, in Florida.”
“Florida?”
“Apparently he’s been getting bonuses lately.” She paused, her voice became low, sending an eerie vibe through Maya. “He hasn’t, Maya. Not from CME. Nobody has. I asked Accounting.”
“You’re serious?”
“I know this feels like a ton of evidence, and to us it seems pretty incriminating. But I’m thinking if Connor blew you off, we’re going to need the smoking gun and James’s confession, because if you look at it from the other side, there are possible explanations for everything. People do business with relatives all the time, so maybe this uncle being the financial officer, CEO guy isn’t a big deal. As for the appraiser, a lot of people are on summer holidays. Maybe our usual appraiser is gone, so James called in a favor with his buddy. Maybe the overvaluation is accurate—maybe land is included, or something valuable that we don’t know about. Maybe James has been doing consulting on the side, which explains the bonuses. It can all be explained away.”
“He’s got to be screwing over CME, though, Em. There are too many maybes, and this deal isn’t Connor.” Maya ducked when she flushed a flock of birds out the trees as she began walking the path at the top of the hill to burn off some of her energy.
“Let’s eliminate the excuses, then.”
“Do you have time for all of this?”
“If I lose my job I will be regretting not taking a few hours to snoop things out, now won’t I?” Em replied in an all-business tone. “We need a solid plan and some good ammo before we talk to anyone—anyone, okay? Be patient.”
Be patient. Be patient. That’s all everyone ever seemed to tell her these days, and nothing good ever seemed to come from being patient.
“Once we have more info,” Maya said, “promise me we can lynch James.”
There was silence.
“Why do you care so much? Connor fired you,” Em said finally.
“I guess…well, because Connor trusted James, and Connor is a good guy. He deserves to have someone good on his team, someone trustworthy who he can count on when the chips are down and he isn’t well.”
Em sighed. “I keep hoping James isn’t doing anything wrong, but the more I find out, the more it seems like…” She let out another sigh.
“I know. Say, do you know anything about licensing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Patents and all that kind of new product stuff.”
“No, but Connor’s buddy Nolan McKinley would. I gave you his number, didn’t I?”
“Already tried him.”
“Did you play nice and ask him about his wife first?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maya, I know you want to make it in this world, but there is a game you have to play. You have to act as if you care about the personal and not just the business.”
“I care.”
Em laughed and Maya couldn’t help but join her. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying. Really I am. I just want to get down to business.”
“Umm-hmm.”
“So?” Maya asked, trying to think of something conversational. “Do you have a cat?”
“Maya, shut up.”
“I need practice?”
“A lot of practice.”
“Do you have a dog then?”
“What is this? Go Fish? Get off the phone so I can do some more snooping around. And don’t forget―play the game.”
Maya sighed and clicked off her phone. Connections. Right. She could work on that. But being patient was going to do her in.
* * *
Maya plunked herself in the chair beside her mother’s bed. Her mom gave her a thin smile.
“You look tired,” Catherine said.
“I am.”
“I love you, kiddo.”
Maya, feeling teary, reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping her mother would know she felt the same even though she couldn’t say the words for fear of bawling.
Her mom gave Maya’s hand a light shake.
“How are you feeling?” Maya asked when the lump in her throat had been successfully swallowed.
“Not bad. Mild headache is all.” She gave her a wink from her good side.
“I love you.” Maya said it quickly, before the emotions could come flooding out.
“I know.”
“Can I get you anything?” She needed to do something, needed to move. Standing, she straightened the flowers on the windowsill and checked them all for water. Obviously, Hailey had been by already, as everything was fine.
“I’m good. Hailey was here earlier. I have my Twix chocolate bar.”
Maya kept her attention on the flowers. “I did something stupid, Mom.” She turned to face her. “I got fired. My shot at trying to help the cottage didn’t work out very well. Although Mr. MacKenzie hasn’t asked for a refund for unused days.”
“The cottage’s destiny…”
“I know. Destiny keeps it in our hands. Or not.” Maya gave her a wry smile. “We got an offer from a developer across the water. I don’t know, though. It
doesn’t feel right. You know I don’t really go for all that heritage stuff, but they’re knocking everything down over there and changing it.” She gave a laugh. “Who would have guessed? I don’t like it.”
Her mother had a peaceful glow about her, as though the world was unfolding as she felt it should.
“When will I learn to keep my mouth shut, Mom?”
“You need to work someplace where you can talk. A lot. That’s all.” Catherine smiled with fondness.
“Yeah. As an auctioneer, maybe?”
Her mother let out a light chuckle.
“I thought Connor’s advisor was crooked. And I still think he is, but Connor… Oh, I don’t know. I’m confused.” Her mother remained silent, allowing Maya to continue when she was ready. “There are arguments that the advisor might be on track, but my gut is telling me he isn’t, that he’s corrupt. But I don’t have enough facts, and it’s frustrating. Connor’s supposed to be signing this deal in a matter of days, and I want to help, but he fired me. He didn’t want to hear about James.”
Maya bowed her head. “And to top it all, I think I’m about to lose forty thousand dollars of his—I mean, I might get it back, but I dropped the ball with licensing stuff because I didn’t know enough. How could I graduate at the top of my class and still know nothing?”
Her mother was fighting off sleep, her eyelids drifting shut.
“I’m sorry. I’m nattering on like crazy, and you’re tired.” Maya tucked the blanket up around her mother’s chin. “I’ll come by again tomorrow. I’ll know what to do by then.”
“You always do, Snap.” Catherine smiled, her eyes closing. “You always do.”
Maya pressed her lips together. She wasn’t Snap any longer. That confident gal was gone. There were no snap decisions to be made, and no way for her to snap out of her funky mood.
She sniffed back tears and, picking up the city’s classifieds, dropped them in the recycling bin on her way out. Toronto seemed farther away than ever.
* * *
Connor stared at his untouched cappuccino and straightened his bow tie. Women in fancy evening wear chattered as they wove past his spot at the opera’s standing bar, their heavily adorned fingers weighted down with precious gems. He used to love events like this because he felt as though he had finally made it. But over time the people and their perceived problems had begun to bore him.