35. Triumphs

Chapter 35

Triumphs

Charlie drummed his fingers on the gargantuan oval conference table. Its top was polished to such a high luster he could see himself in its reflection. He straightened his collar, adjusted his linen sports jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair. Again.

Beside him, Noah sprawled in his chair, cool as a walk-in freezer as he scrolled his phone. Noah's presence was one of the reasons Charlie had a knot in his gut. He didn't want this meeting to become the Noah-and-Leo show.

The door opened, and in walked Leo Cantrell, all cool confidence. Three other guys trailed behind him. After a round of handshakes and introductions, they sat. Cantrell took his seat at the head of the table. "Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting. We had a little emergency crop up."

Noah gave him a nod. "No problem. When the kitchen's on fire …"

"You gotta put it out," Cantrell finished for him. They both laughed as if this was the funniest damn joke either one of them had ever heard.

Charlie bristled. Sure, no problem. I only have thieves to catch, a saboteur to stop, and a dozen more people to hire so I can stay afloat, but you do you, Cantrell.

"Will the delightful Ms. Holiday be joining us?"

Charlie hesitated a beat, expecting Noah to answer that question too. But Noah didn't make a move, so Charlie answered. "I'm afraid not. She had to get back to her clients in Chicago."

"Good for her clients, too bad for the rest of us. I was hoping to see her again."

So was I.

Cantrell raised an eyebrow in Noah's direction. "So tell us about the depot."

Noah hooked a thumb in Charlie's direction. "My brother's the one with all the details."

All eyes turned to Charlie, and his stomach executed a few flips. Doubt made him hesitate. He could flame out and make a colossal idiot of himself in front of these big wheels—or worse, his brother.

Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he pulled in a silent cleansing breath. "I don't have much to tell you because, to my knowledge, nothing's been done. Which is a shame, frankly, because we're missing a huge opportunity to build some buzz."

"How's that?"

Go big or go home. "We've built up a good thing between Fall River and Silver Summit, thanks to Noah and Cantrell's shared vision. Tourists are pouring in, which gives us momentum and a captive audience. We could be marketing to them, getting them excited about the grand opening with banners and flyers. Retailers thinking about opening businesses might decide to jump early and position themselves close by, which would open up a second area of commerce in town, expanding on the success we've seen with Bowen Street's revival.

"If tourists don't have plans to return next year, they might change those plans because they want to see the progress for themselves. Meanwhile, they would be telling their relatives, friends, co-workers. Word would spread without us having to spend a whole lot in marketing dollars. If enough buzz builds, then we could grab a feature in one of Denver's papers and in a publication like 5280 Magazine ."

Cantrell flicked his gaze to one of the men seated across the table from Charlie. The man gave him a dip of his head and looked at Charlie. "This is all great for Fall River, but how does it benefit Silver Summit? "

Cantrell leaned forward, placing his weight on his forearms. "After seeing you at dinner the other night, I investigated why progress stalled. When I checked, I found out that we pulled in the reins because this question came up repeatedly." He glanced over his shoulder at Noah. "I know we agreed to certain performance dates, and I thought we were on track—no pun intended—until Charlie asked for this meeting." He side-eyed his business partner, but Charlie couldn't decipher what the look meant. "It's a valid question." Cantrell cocked his head at his partner. "Don, care to chime in?"

Don crossed his arms. "We're not convinced this is where Silver Summit should invest its capital right now."

Anger kindled in Charlie's belly. "Silver Summit was sure when you first agreed to the venture. We wouldn't have signed on the dotted line if we didn't believe the deadlines were going to be met. You're flirting with a breach."

"Deadlines slip all the time. And I might point out that our contract allows for that." Don gave him an imperious chin lift. "Go read it. We're not in breach, nor do you have much recourse if an actual breach does occur. Neither side does."

Charlie bit back his temper and headed in a different direction. "The shuttle buses between Fall River and Silver Summit have been full since Memorial Day. Have you not seen an increase in sales with the added tourist traffic?" If they did, that would incentivize them to get the train going, wouldn't it?

Cantrell addressed Don. "Does the increased business match our projections?"

Don's face was a mask. "A little under."

"How far under?"

"We're at about ninety-eight percent of projections," another partner piped up.

Charlie forcefully tapped his index and middle fingers on the shiny tabletop. "Ninety-eight percent? I'd call that a win. But let's put that aside for a minute. If the same doubts arose after the agreement was struck, shouldn't we have been informed so we could all sit down and revise accordingly? We have decent people who bought into this dream and have invested their hard-earned money, believing it was not only moving forward but that it was on schedule. "

"They acknowledged the risk when they signed on," Don pointed out.

Charlie shifted his weight to disperse some of his pent-up frustration. "They were sold a bill of goods that you unilaterally decided to yank out from under them." His gaze moved around the table, landing on each Silver Summit executive, where it lingered for several uncomfortable beats—uncomfortable for them, not him.

"The original question is valid, but so is Hunnicutt's point," Cantrell pressed. "Why don't you address that for us?"

Don visibly squirmed. What came out of his mouth was merely a repeat of the question padded with a bunch of extra words that explained nothing.

Cantrell's eyes remained locked on Don. "I would hate to think that we're ignoring a valuable opportunity here."

"I have a suggestion," Charlie interjected. All eyes turned back to him. "What if we've been looking at the wrong set of tracks?" Eyebrows around the table rose. "There are abandoned tracks all over the place up here, and one spur connects Fall River to Silver Summit. It's a much shorter stretch than the tracks we've been focused on. What if we fixed those up first and started running a train between our two locations? It could transport double the people the shuttles are carrying. After we get that going, we switch back to renovating the tracks leading up from the flats. The original project will be pushed off, but suddenly we have a new attraction, and you get more than the ninety-eight percent you're seeing right now."

Leo Cantrell sat up … and laughed. Threw his head back and howled. His partners stared at him as though a train track were sprouting out of his forehead. To Charlie's left, Noah hid a grin behind his hand.

Cantrell slapped the conference table and stabbed a finger toward Charlie. "Genius." Then he looked around the table. "Why didn't any of us think of that? I love it. What a fantastic idea."

An excited buzz overtook the room, and Charlie felt like a kid on a skateboard for the first time—wobbly but pumped up and triumphant.

The meeting ended an hour later with hand-clapping, back-slapping, and an agreement to speed up the depot project.

This could actually work!

Noah was laughing and shaking his head when he slid into the driver's seat and pulled his truck onto the highway. "I owe you an apology, baby brother."

"Why's that? "

"I totally underestimated you. As Cantrell said, that was genius. I always thought you had it in you, but to see it in action … Yeah. Nice job."

A warm glow warmed Charlie inside, and he didn't even mind the "baby brother" bit. "I expected you to jump in, especially when Cantrell kept looking your way."

"I didn't think I needed to. You know a helluva lot more about this shit than I do. The spur? Never occurred to me. No, you were doing fine on your own. If I jumped in, I might have fucked it up, and then where would we be?" He punched Charlie in the arm.

Charlie couldn't wait to share the news with Bea and the others who'd invested in the dream.

Buoyed by his triumph, he set his mind on the next mountain he had to conquer—one in Chicago he would possibly die on.

Charlie left a voicemail for Shane, asking if he had any updates. On close inspection, Charlie had determined the cameras at the Haven had been disabled, and he'd turned those over to the deputy. This whole mess mystified him, and he hoped they might lift a fingerprint or find other evidence that would point to the crooks.

He plopped onto his couch, surrounded himself with his canine support group, and tapped Joy's number. It was nine in the evening for her, but knowing what a workaholic she was, he wouldn't be surprised if she was still at her office.

She picked up on the second ring, breathless.

He spiked his voice with a smile. "Are you excited to hear from me, or were you running?"

"I was running," she gusted out.

Damn. Not the answer he'd been looking for, but he'd take it. If she was running, she was eager to pick up his call, right? Unless she hadn't been able to see who was calling …

"How did your meeting with the Silver Summit boys go? "

I nailed it! Yeah, he hadn't come down from that high completely. "That's one of the reasons I'm calling. I'd like to tell you in person. What are you doing Friday?" His heart kicked up its tempo.

"Um, I think I have a business dinner that night."

Of course she did. Undeterred, he rushed on. "Well, I happen to have some time off." Thank you, Reece. " What would you think of me flying out there for the weekend? I'll come on Friday and entertain myself while you're out, and we can have all of Saturday and most of Sunday to ourselves, if you're able to clear your calendar."

"I think that can be arranged." She was trying to play coy, but he heard the excitement in her voice.

"And … can I stay with you?"

"Of course. I have three guest bedrooms you can choose from." Wait. Was she serious? "That was a joke, Charlie."

He let out a relieved laugh. "I'm never sure with you, princess. You like to keep me dancing on my toes. I'll send you my flight details once it's booked."

They hung up, and though that exchange had had its own brand of clumsiness, it had gone smoother than the last time they'd talked. Now all he had to do was decide whether to lead with his good news or the bad. With any luck, the mystery of the thefts and sabotage would be solved by then, so when he told her about them, he could immediately follow up with the culprit's identity and assure her the worst was behind them. That way she wouldn't be as prone to think he was dishonest, or incompetent for not managing his job sites, or a bad risk as a partner—in business and in love.

Friday couldn't come soon enough.

"Somebody's happy today," Estelle remarked as Joy pranced into the office.

Somebody was going to have a hunky visitor in two days. She couldn't wait to show Charlie her town, to walk into the best restaurants on his arm, to show him the city lights from her condo—especially those from her bedroom. Today she would arrange to have a personal shopper pick out a casual array of clothing. While she still couldn't muster much enthusiasm, at least her reason for getting the new pieces energized her.

"Eh, it's another beautiful summer day, and I got to drive with my top down."

Estelle's eyes widened behind her glasses and locked onto Joy's torso. "You drove without your top? Wow. You are living on the edge."

"Haha. Very funny. Any calls?"

"One." Estelle looked around and dropped her voice. "Your therapist. She says she's been trying to reach you."

"Ah. I'll take care of it. Thanks." Joy stepped into her office and quietly shut the door. She'd been ignoring the woman's emails, voicemails, and texts, and she couldn't dodge anymore. But there was one major roadblock in her way: her therapist would ask, as she should, whether Joy had spoken with her sister since discovering Helene's letters.

Yes, Joy needed to confront Mary. Bolstered by her exhilaration over Charlie's visit, she told Estelle to hold her calls and picked up her cell phone. No time like the present.

She chewed her bottom lip while Mary's phone rang. Her cowardly hopes climbed with each ring. Maybe she wouldn't have to have this conversation right now after all. Those hopes were dashed when her sister answered, and it wasn't her voicemail greeting.

"Mary? Glad I caught you. Is this a good time?"

"Sure. What else would I be doing with my life?" Mary ran through a litany of her aches and pains and all the reasons she couldn't live the glamorous life Joy had somehow lucked into. "You have no idea how good you have it, Joy."

"You'd be surprised," Joy deadpanned.

"What does that mean?"

Cut to the chase. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" Telling her little sister she wasn't their parents' biological daughter seemed like a detail Mary would have salivated over. She could have milked it for all the misery it would bring, yet she hadn't so much as hinted at the old secret.

"How did you find out?"

"We are talking about the same thing, right?"

"That you're adopted? "

"Yes, that." It occurred to Joy that Mary might not know the whole truth. Joy hadn't been adopted at all. She'd merely been brought aboard the Holiday family fun wagon.

"Because Mom begged me not to. She said you'd suffered enough." Joy could practically hear the eye-roll in Mary's voice.

"I would have thought you'd be champing at the bit to spill."

Mary sighed. "Don't think I wasn't, but Mom was adamant. Her wishes meant more to me than you learning the truth."

Ouch. But the sting didn't hurt as much as it once might have.

"How did you find out anyway?"

"The contractor was ripping into the walls and discovered a trove of letters. They spelled most of it out. The rest I might be able to piece together if I ever take a DNA test."

"You're going to do that?" Mary didn't hide her surprise.

"I'm not sure. I'd like to know who my people are, where I came from."

Mary snorted. "Why? So you can find the fine class of people who dumped you on the side of the road? They were probably Gypsies. That's what Mom always suspected."

"She didn't like Gypsies, did she?"

"No, and who could blame her? Vagabonds and thieves. You're lucky our parents took pity on you."

"According to the letters, only our father did."

"So did our mother!" Mary snarled. "She put up with your whiny, snotty attitude for years ! And it took its toll on all of us."

Joy didn't have the heart or the energy to lay out the truth in the letters. Mary loved Helene, and Helene was gone. What could possibly be gained by destroying Mary's memory of her mother?

A revelation struck. Joy was free. Once Crystal Harmony Haven was sold, Joy had no earthly obligation to this woman whose presence in her life weighed like a millstone around her neck. If only that process could be hurried along.

A different revelation shone a dazzling light on her, as though storm-laden clouds had suddenly parted. "Mary, how would you feel about getting your money from the estate now?"