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“Hang on,” Worth says. “Let me check if I’ve heard…” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages. A grin unfurls on his face. “Well, well, well. We have a counteroffer.”
“Why do you look so happy about a counteroffer?” Poppy asks. “Didn’t we want them just to accept your offer?”
“I lowballed them. Their counter is twenty percent less than the asking.”
Poppy and I exchange a look. “Twenty?” I ask. “Are you sure?”
“We got ourselves a bargain,” Worth says. “And for the record, Avril, given this counter, I would never have agreed to Boston.”
I groan, but it can’t cover up my grin. “So I didn’t need to spill my guts after all.”
The fact is, I wish I’d gone to Worth with all my anxieties a long time ago. It would have stopped a lot of wasted effort looking for the seller of the Boston hotel. I would have never made a drunken agreement to live with a stranger to get him to help.
“So there’s only one thing left,” Worth says. “You need to speak to Ben East—and then I need to threaten to throw him off the Brooklyn Bridge if he breaks your heart.”
“Let’s just stick with the first part of that plan for now.”
“I’m going to have that talk with him, Avril. I’m always going to be your big brother.”
I smile at him. I couldn’t have gotten a better one.
THIRTY-THREE
Ben
When my lunch date offered to lend me his driver to take me back to my office, I declined and waved him off. I’d deliberately chosen this restaurant because I wanted to walk a little after lunch. I hadn’t caught up with this particular contact, Declan Flannagan, for a while, but when I found out Patrick O’Leary was the seller of the Boston hotel that Avril wanted, I invited him to lunch. I couldn’t help thinking that they’d know each other.
My hunch was right. They’d known each other since they were kids. He gave me some interesting insights about his negotiating tactics. It’s not the first time he’s pulled a disappearing act, apparently. But lunch wasn’t just about getting information about Patrick O’Leary, it was also about being here. Downtown, overlooking the Hudson River, at a rooftop restaurant that happens to be just around the corner from the Institute of Culinary Education.
They’re having an open day where anyone can drop in. There’s no need to register or give an email address.
What have I got to lose?
My walk finds me at the entrance of the building and I make my way through the lobby. My phone buzzes in my hand.
I stop when I see it’s Avril calling, and I scramble to answer as my heart rate picks up speed. “Avril? Are you okay?” There’s no reason for her to be phoning me. Is she in trouble?
“Hey, Ben. How are you?” She doesn’t sound panicked. She sounds nervous, if anything.
“Good. What do you need?”
“Oh yes, I was wondering if you had five minutes this afternoon. And if I could stop by.”
“Stop by? I’m not in the office. What’s happened? Is something wrong?”
“No, no, not wrong, exactly. It’s just that I’d rather tell you in person.”
Is it me or is her voice softer than usual? It’s the tone she uses when she’s opposite me at dinner, rather than the one she uses when she’s in bed watching TV, or the one when she’s with her friends, which is all fun and full of life. There are so many different sides to Avril. I wonder if I’ve seen them all. An ache tugs inside me at the thought that I won’t get to experience them again. She’s got what she needs from me. There’s no reason for us to stay in touch. And it’s not like I can offer her anything.
But wanting to tell me something in person doesn’t sound good. Is she going to tell me that Worth no longer has the money? Is she going to ask me to invest? I don’t know why else she might want to tell me something in person.
“Tell me what?”
“Well, if I tell you now, I won’t be telling you in person, will I?” she says, her tone a little more clipped than it was before.
I stifle a chuckle at her irritation. “Okay, well, I can give you a call when I’m back in the office. In fact, I’ll pass Hotel on Ninth Street on my way back. I’ll call in.”
“Back from where?” she asks. “Where are you?”
