Page 7 of Never Finished

Unsurprisingly, my bags were already waiting for me.

I spent the next few hours going over the copious amount of notes my father had emailed me about Travers Development, Inc. They were an investment firm out of Florida, and it would appear that Mr. Travers Sr. had more money than God, as my mother used to say. I got worried when I noticed that Mr. Travers’s acquisitions were mostly land deals. My father assured me after an argument about the land my mom left to me, he wouldn't press me about developing it, but to be certain, I called him. "Dad, how exactly are we looking to merge with Travers Development? I've read everything in here, but it's not expressly stated."

He paused for a moment before he said, "Well, Mr. Travers deals mostly in land, but he's been looking to diversify his portfolio. I met him skiing a couple of years ago, and I told him if he was ever interested in investing in a resort to remember me and he did. I’ve been in contact with him for the last couple of months, but he's nervous about getting into the hospitality game, so we're going to need to hold his hand a little bit."

"I see," I said, my nerves not settled by his answer. But to be fair, I'd been uneasy about most of my father's decisions since my mom died, so I couldn't help but be on high alert.

He'd always loved money, but it alarmed me just how much he loved it. As far as I could tell, this sounded like a pretty standard deal, aside from the fact that Travers was new to the hospitality industry. So I could see why my dad was pulling out all the stops to impress them. It was daunting to break into a new industry, no matter how much money and success you have under your belt.

"I think I see what's going on," I said. "Thank you for filling in the gaps. As you know, it helps to have as much information as possible going in."

"Please, my girl, you could sell oceanfront property in the desert. You don't need all this background," he groused, chuckling.

"All the same, Dad, it's nice to know."

"You'll do great, go knock 'em dead."

With those words in my head, I got ready for the evening. What I’s rather do is slip into a pair of yoga pants, my Zac Brown Band t-shirt, and binge on pizza and Netflix. But it was going to be another long night wearing uncomfortable heels and a slinky dress.

It's not that I didn't enjoy dressing up, but I hadn't slowed down since Mom had passed, and my body was getting to where it was demanding a break.

I was starting to think maybe Caroline and Abby were right. Once this deal at Pine Crest was done, I needed to insist on a vacation. My strategy of running from the grief over my mother clearly wasn't working, so maybe it was time I took some time to myself. We had several beach resorts I could choose from, and they were calling my name.

I finished curling my hair and putting on finishing touches of makeup, then checked myself out in the mirror. I decided on an emerald green metallic dress that hung just above my knees, swishing around my hips but hugging my waist and bust.

My dad had implied I needed to impress Andrew Jr. I didn’t appreciate the implication, but I also wanted this trip to be over as quickly as possible, so if I had to show a little cleavage to expedite the situation, I’d do what needed to be done. I slipped on matching metallic heels, grabbed my clutch, and headed for the elevator, mentally going over my talking points for Andrew Travers Jr., and wondering which investors would show up.

When I hit the bottom floor and saw how crowded The Lounge was, a knot of dread wound itself at the bottom of my stomach. I heard raucous laughter coming from the bar, and I turned to look longingly at the bar, which was now open and swinging.

I would love nothing more than to slip into the dim light of the bar and enjoy a vodka tonic—some place where nobody knew me or wanted anything from me.

But that wasn't my assignment for the night. So I turned back to The Lounge and sucked in a deep breath—it was time to go "knock 'em dead."

***

There was an ache in my face again. Nobody told me that was going to be a hazard of my job.

I supposed I shouldn't complain. The guests have been lovely, and the turnout was better than I expected.

Andrew Travers Jr. had yet to show his face, but I had my hands full with the other investors. Many of them had new properties they wanted us to invest in, so they’d offered me a free vacation to check it out. I didn't have the heart to tell them that the last thing I wanted to do was spend my vacation working a deal, especially when so many of those people, while nice enough, could be so damn insufferable. I’ve never quite gotten over how an investor could treat me so kindly, and then bark an order at one of our waitstaff.

I knew how hard the staff worked, and juggling this crowd was no small feat.

After a nasty run-in with a West Coast socialite, I pulled one of the servers aside, "I want to apologize on behalf of that woman."

Even though he looked grateful, he explained, "Oh don't worry, ma'am, it happens more than you think."

I frowned at him. "That's what I was afraid of. And there's no excuse for it. As soon as I’m done here, I will make sure you are compensated for the disrespect you've had to put up with."

The server looked even more grateful then. "I really appreciate that, Miss Carter. That's really cool of you… if you need anything at all tonight, just let me know. I’m Joey," he said enthusiastically, sticking out his hand.

"Please, call me Emma. It’s nice to meet you, Joey. I think I’m okay for now," I replied.

As he turned to walk away, I realized I might need something a little stronger than my seltzer to get through this night, especially since Andrew Jr. was fashionably late.

"Hey, Joey? On second thought, can you bring me a drink? Something strong enough to help me deal with all these… lovely people?" I asked with a conspiratorial smile.

Joey smiled. "I'll talk to our mixologist. I’m sure he'll have just the thing."

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