Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Your dad was pretty good about not spending on projects before the official construction began. You never know when you might get problems from the building department that change all your plans.”
I nodded. That was definitely true. I was just about to let him off the phone. Maybe Andi was wrong about everything with my dad, and I was pulling at a thread that just needed to be snipped. It honestly seemed ridiculous to think what I’d been thinking.
I laughed. “You’re right, Dan. Thanks a lot.”
“No problem. If you’re considering buying the building back, you might want to check in with your dad’s lawyer up there. I remember there was a zoning issue she’d worked on for him before the purchase—not sure if the current owner changed zoning back. But that’s something to look into if you decide to go forward.”
I nodded. This is why my parents paid Dan more than the average accounting manager—his mind was a steel trap.
“Thanks, Dan. Any chance you remember the attorney’s name?”
“Landsford, I think. Let me look it up in the computer. We would have cut her a check, and she’ll be in our vendor list. Hang on a second.”
My shoulders relaxed, and I reached down for the burger in front of me. Suddenly, my appetite had returned. Dan came back on the line just as I bit into it.
“Yeah, it was Landsford. Marie Louise Landsford, Esquire, is who we made the check out to.”
Marie Louise.
I almost choked on my burger.
“You want me to email you her contact information?” he asked.
I managed to force down the mouthful of food, yet it still felt like I had a lump in my throat after I swallowed. “Yeah. That would be helpful. Thanks, Dan.”
***
I didn’t tend to be a nervous person.
The last time I’d felt this way was when I stood in front of the judge and told him I wanted legal custody of my fourteen-year-old sister. I wasn’t nervous that I was making the wrong decision—I was nervous that he’d say I wasn’t qualified or that my sister would be better off in foster care or with my aunt in Ohio.
But as I sat in my car, parked on Superior Street in front of the storefront law office of Marie Louise Landsford, Esquire, my palms were sweaty and my stomach was tied in a knot. It felt as though I could bend over and toss my breakfast, only I hadn’t had anything to eat since the one bite of burger last night. My eyes also itched, though that could be from lack of sleep and not nerves. I could feel my heartbeat all over—ricocheting against my chest, swooshing through my ears, even in my throat.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—a text from Valentina. I’d exchanged a few messages with her last night, but didn’t mention anything about my father or what was going on. I couldn’t even admit it to myself, much less say the words out loud to someone else. I also hadn’t mentioned I’d blown off the appointment I was supposed to have with the engineer this morning. The only thing she knew was that I’d pushed back my flight to meet with an attorney about zoning. Which was sort of true, I guess. At least that was what I planned to say when I walked into her office without an appointment. I had no plans beyond that. I couldn’t even think about what I might say, or how I might ask her.
Valentina: Good luck with the attorney today, and have a safe flight home later. Let me know what train you’re on in the morning, and I’ll pick you up. I have a little surprise for you.
I stared at my cell like the words were gibberish. There was no way I could possibly text back. Instead, I shoved the phone into my pocket. I just needed to get this shit over with.
I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.
A woman about my age was sitting behind a reception desk. She smiled. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Ummm. I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping maybe I could speak to Marie.”
“Can I ask what this is in reference to?”
“I’m considering buying a building in the area, and she did some work for my father on it previously.”
“Oh. Okay.” She motioned toward a closed door to her left. “She’s with a client right now, but she should be finished any minute. As soon as she gets done, I’ll ask her if she can speak with you.”
“Thanks,”
“Can I have your name, please?”
“Ford. Ford Donovan.”
If my last name meant anything to the receptionist, she didn’t show it. She told me to take a seat, and I sat on a leather couch and pretended to thumb through a copy of Architectural Digest. A few minutes later, the door to Marie’s office opened. My heart, which had already been beating fast, took off like a runaway train. An older man in a suit walked out first, talking to someone behind him.