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That’s about as close to humility as Pat gets.
My family doesn’t do big apologies. Not like most people.
We’re all stubborn as fuck—Mom included in her own bless-your-heart way—and a genuine apology is rarer than a visit from the goddamned tooth fairy.
Archer swings his attention back to us.
“You might’ve been right to go for it,” he says, folding his arms. “I’ve been combing the public records, tax records, anything on Haute that’s out there. Went through it all and I’ll admit, I can’t find shit.”
Am I getting a two-for-one?
Two almost-apologies from my terrible brothers in one night. I should’ve bought a lottery ticket with this luck.
“My gut says I should see it, but there’s nothing there. Just the same old rumors that Haute climbed into bed with the mob for some casino somewhere in the Ozarks. A lot of shady business goes down there, but it’s not our turf.” Archer shrugs. “Didn’t mean to add to the stress about this whole deal, but I had to be sure.”
Half of me doesn’t want to accept it’s just this easy, even though there’s nothing to beuneasy about if Archer hasn’t found anything.
I let it go.
Although I won’t be happy until I’ve got a signed contract in my hand and no more uncertainty.
Soon, one of our main investors comes over to talk with us.
Showtime.
I force a smile I don’t feel while I take another good look around this place. We had the whole thing gutted and revamped, right down to the gold-edged glass doors that lead into the lobby.
Everything about it screams money. Passersby on the streets look up at the building and peer inside with yawning curiosity and sometimes a little jealousy.
This isn’t even close to the grandeur we have planned for the Mill, if we can just push this damn thing through. And the revenue from these condos will certainly help jumpstart us there.
I grab another drink and let it douse my guts with flames.
After what feels like forever—and Archer gets a good-to-go text from James—we guide the guests through the elevators leading to the top floor.
The setting sun glows orange against the winding Missouri River and the edge of the nearby market through the large picture windows.
This is a view people will pay obscene money for.
It’s also a nice-sized unit, fully furnished with a large kitchen with all the modern name-brand bells and whistles.
I made sure of that. Kitchens are one of the first things people look for in a place these days, even if they barely intend to cook.
As the guests move to the window and admire the view—admittedly, spectacular—Patton clinks his glass on mine.
“Cheer up,” he says.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I throw back the rest of my wine.
He holds up his champagne like he needs to prove it to me. “I’m toasting your success, Dex.And, because I’m the world’s best brother, I’ll even come with you to Mom’s art thing this weekend.”
“What art thing?” I frown at him.
“Oh, you know.” He waves his hand vaguely. “The River Art collab. She does it every year.”
Shit.
Now that I think about it, I knew it was this weekend, but I hadn’t given it much thought. He’s confusing me.
