Page 6 of Finding Redemption

I shake my head. “So lame.”

“I’m hilarious and you know it.” He laughs. “Later.”

“Later,” I reply as he walks out the door.

I get back to work hoping to get some things done before my afternoon meeting. Lachlan Daly is a Scottish developer wanting to build a new restaurant in the area. It’s one of a handful of projects I’m working on while in the middle of this move.

Elbow deep in boxes, I’m a little surprised when Donna announces Lachlan. “Mr. Pennington,” Donna pauses as her voice breaks over the speaker, “Mr. Daly is here.”

“Please, show him in.” I set down the now-empty box I was unpacking, turning as Lachlan strolls into the room. Lachlan is a tall, broad man. His black hair, cropped short, helping to emphasize his chiseled jaw.

“Good to see you.” I stretch my hand out for his.

He takes my hand with a firm shake. His deep dialect always surprises me. “Walker, how are you?”

“I’m good. You?” He releases my hand, and I motion to the seat beside him.

“Good. Maisyn is driving me insane, but that’s for another day and several shots of whiskey.” He chuckles.

I groan and pull out his documents. “Women.” I roll my eyes. “I’m over them.”

“Never say that, lad. Just find another to fill the place,” he offers.

“What was that about Maisyn?”

“Point taken.” He moves forward as I lay the papers out.

“I’m asking for the entire lot and building,” I say as he looks over the prospectus. “The Historical Society has asked for the property to be registered. Now, because it isn’t yet, we have the opening for purchase.”

“What’s the chances of getting it?” Lachlan asks.

“It depends on the judge, honestly.” I shrug. “And the attorney for the Historical Society.”

“Do we know who they are?” He looks from the papers to me.

“Judge Gibson, old friend of my father’s, but I’ve never been in court with him,” I tell him.

“Does it matter?” Lachlan questions.

“No. Although, I had hoped to meet a few people before getting into the courtroom since moving back, but this asshole, Morgan, is pushing it,” I explain.

“Morgan?”

“The attorney for The Historical Society. What little I can gather, he’s tough as nails and an utter dick.” I sit back.

“What’re your hopes for tomorrow?” Lachlan initials several papers of the offer.

“They accept the proposal. It’s good,” I say, tapping the papers. “The building is old. It has to go, but there can be a marker built with bricks from it. The money is over the asking price. I think we’re good.”

“I’ll meet you at two.” Lachlan stands, taking his phone from his pocket. He frowns as he reads the message, a low groan escaping him as he shoves it back in his pocket. “Women. I think I’ll find that whiskey now.”

“I would follow you, but as you can see, there’s still so much to do.”

“It’s good to have you back.” He taps my desk. “Tomorrow.”

“By the way, Maisyn mentioned a group in need of some legal advice. Would it be okay if I called her to get some information?” I ask, taking my phone out.

“Of course, she loves helping at the center. There’s so much need, and it helps her to heal.” He smiles.