Page 120 of Just for Tonight

There is a wave of assent, and finally even Austin nods agreement.

“All right,” I say. “Thanks for taking time out of your holiday morning for this. I’m sending you the access codes to the database now.” I hit a key and hear pings from every location. “Please don’t share access with anyone outside the family until this is resolved. I will make my choice this week, and then we’ll proceed. If you want to close earlier than December 1, just let Paula know and we’ll make it happen. As mentioned, if you plan to flip the property, closing earlier might be a good idea. Paula can take care of the listing for you, if you like. Again, time is of the essence in terms of Candace’s comfort, so if you’re feeling decisive, don’t hold back.”

Candace smiles at me. “Thank you, Jacob. You’ve done so much for me.”

I have an even better surprise for her. Turns out her car smelled so strongly of her perfume that they couldn’t sell it. “When some cash comes through, Candace, you might want to call these people about your SUV. I heard this weekend that it’s still on the lot, and once you have some cash, you might be able to make a deal to get it back.”

“Jacob!” Candace appears to be overwhelmed, but I’m just doing my job. Her sudden tears make me self-conscious and I turn back to my notes. My half-siblings are looking at me with a little less hatred, so I guess that’s all good.

“Enjoy the rest of your holiday Monday. Thanks for making the time for this meeting and your support.”

“I didn’t think you wanted anything,” Paula says when everyone has logged off.

“I didn’t, but I’m thinking about it.” I was just going to chip in to Abbie’s choice, maybe give her my share. Richard thought that would complicate things unnecessarily, so I had a look at the listings. Empire is out of the question, but there’s another option.

There’s a cottage in Port Cavendish. Lakefront. The value of the property is all in the location and the view, and it’s a great view. It’s on a small cliff over the beach, safe from the waves of storms, with a big long lot. It’s a small cottage, just two bedrooms, with a long enclosed porch that faces the lake and overlooks the marina. It needs a lot of work, but Paula photographed it on a sunny day, with the lake sparkling and the sailboats blowing across the water. One look and the possibilities were clear.

It’s too easy to imagine sitting on that porch, watching the world go by. It’s priced at double our allotment, because of that frontage, but I can afford it.

Do I want a house in Port Cavendish, even with an awesome view? No, I do not. But I’ve flicked back to that listing a bunch of times since Paula added it to the database.

I could have a cottage. That doesn’t compromise my ambitions or my focus. No one in Empire even has to know. It could be my retreat.

There’s something very appealing about that idea.

Everything becomes clear when I get back to the city later that afternoon. There are some roads closed for a fundraising run, the usual curse of Toronto in summer, so I wind my way to my building by a different route. I pass a block two streets south of my building, one that is fenced off for new construction. The whole block, which means it must be a new condo tower.

It takes one look for ice to run in my veins. This block is due south of the one my condo tower is built on.

No. Not my view.

When I get back to my place, I look it up online and my heart sinks. Yes. My view will be forfeit. The new tower will be fifteen stories taller than my tower, and immediately south of it. Within a year, my view will be of other condos, which was not part of my ambition.

My luck has not changed, which means I need to change my choices.

I send an email to Paula right away, requesting an immediate closing on the cottage in Port Cavendish. My payment should keep Candace in her various indulgences for a few weeks and enable her to get her car back.

But that’s not why I’m buying it. I’m buying that bit of heaven for myself. No one can block your view when you own the lip of the cliff on the shore.

No one.

I look at the pictures again and know that I can’t even stay there as it is now. A quick online search is all it takes to learn that Kevin MacQuarrie has continued his dad’s renovation and carpentry business. Instead of Mac & Son, it’s now Mac & Daughters, but I trust him to work on the place in my absence. I send him a message and get myself a Scotch, a reward for a day’s work well done.

Before I sip, I glare out the window where the new tower will be, then I drink to my future possibilities.

Whatever they might be.

And no, it does not escape me that owning the cottage means I’ll be that much closer to Mackenzie Rhodes.

Temptation will be inescapable.

36

Mackenzie

I almost don’t go to our weekly girls’ night, but Uncle Victor kicks me out. He says the grapes won’t ripen at night, even if I watch them, and he’s right.

I’m last to arrive, because Daphne isn’t coming. She and Luke have gone away for a few days. Abbie has gone home to Vancouver again, so it’s Cameron, Willow, Merrie, Sylvia and me. Sierra comes swinging out of the back just after I arrive, shaking a box.