Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Did you write this?” he asks, tilting his head as he holds up the stack of papers. I think he intends it to sound complimentary, his own demonstration of psychology in action. But if he’s impressed by my ability to write anything beyond a bare-boned, beginner-level contract, it’s telling that he’s already deemed me that stupid, and set the bar that low.
Rather than being charmed by his flattery, it’s an instant buzzkill on any attractiveness I thought he possessed, and my initial instinct is to prove him wrong by showing exactly who he’s dealing with, but everything with lawyers is a dance—of power, of information, of advantage. More than once in my life, being underestimated has served me well, so there’s no need to avail him of his assumptions about me—yet.
Plus, I want to do some recon on who I’m dealing with too.
“What’s your take?” I ask, not answering his question and instead, giving him an opening to share . . . or overshare.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
Oliver is concise, intelligent, and accurate as we begin working our way through the contract, which he again compliments, making me wonder if I jumped to a conclusion too soon with him. I hate to think the chip on my shoulder might’ve led me to misjudge someone, considering it annoys me when it happens to me, so I’m being cautiously watchful of Oliver—open-minded but aware of his reason for being here.
As we read through the clause about dissolution of Ford Construction, he offers, “The hope is that we can settle things without a full dissolution. More likely, there will have to be a buyout deal reached so that one party retains sole proprietorship.”
He’s speaking in generic terms, but this is a chance for me to get a read on his plans.
“If Jed buys out Chrissy, he’ll be short on funds, but Township is already fully financed, so its completion wouldn’t be affected,” I note, specifically mentioning who would do the buying out, and see the tiniest flinch in his blink. Interesting. “So that would work, meeting the construction company’s responsibilities under the contract with the city.”
Oliver nods, his face blank. “As for the rest of the property owned by Mr. and Mrs. Ford, there will need to be a complete reporting and analysis on value before division can be properly ascertained.”
Right. Because this is more than just the Township development. Jed basically owns half of Cold Springs in one way or another, and his company employs a fair portion of tradespeople at various sites in the area.
But while we, as a town, have concern about who owns what, as the city attorney, I don’t have a vested interest in the outcome of that. My focus is Township.
Admittedly, though, as a human, I’m curious as hell.
We’re still working our way through the details of page eight when Joanne pokes her head in. “Wren, I’m heading home for the day, unless you need anything?”
After reassuring her that I’m perfectly capable of conducting a meeting without her to get drinks for us, she leaves begrudgingly. I suspect she’s been doing walk-bys all afternoon to listen in at the door and giving half-hour updates to her husband, Ben, and Francine, the mayor.
“Is it after six already? I’m sorry for keeping you so late,” Oliver says as he looks at his chunky silver watch. I can’t see the face, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a Rolex or something comparable. “Actually, I’m staying in town for a bit to handle this case. Is there somewhere you’d recommend for dinner?”
Yawn. He’s not fooling anyone, least of all me. I know he’s inviting me out. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to stick with room service when I remember Ben’s advice. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into. Use that.
Maybe a beer or two would loosen Oliver’s tongue about what he plans to do with the case. That might give us an opportunity to better prepare as a city for the change of ownership of Ford Construction and Township.
“There is. What’s your opinion on hole-in-the-wall places with overly flirty waitresses, cooks who make food that’ll clog every artery in your body, and pool tables you’ll never win on because the owner doesn’t take mercy on anyone? Not even her own family.” I smile invitingly as I sell the best dinner spot in town.
This is perfect. Oliver should understand what’s at stake with this case. Cold Springs is a special place, and we want Township completed regardless of who owns it.
Plus, neither Chrissy nor Jed would dare go to Puss N Boots.
“Am I dressed appropriately?” he asks, straightening his already-perfect tie.
I laugh. “You could go in wearing underwear and a T-shirt and nobody would bat an eye. A three-piece suit? You’ll be the best-dressed diner Puss N Boots has ever seen.”