Page 2 of Make Her Mine

“No,” Laurie said, coming back almost immediately, black Manolos in hand. “It’s just getting all the bad crap out of the way so that your meeting at the Fairchild goes off without a hitch. Did you read the file?”

“Some of it.” Nora took the new shoes and wedged her feet into them. She flipped the file open again. “The location is amazing; this building is smack in the middle of some of the most up-and-coming development projects in Downtown LA. The office and retail spaces are being all but wasted. If they’re in good shape, I’ve got any number of contacts I can reach out to in order to fill them once I overhaul the whole joint.”

Laurie sat on the edge of her desk, swinging one ankle-booted foot. “You’re going to have trouble with that café,” she said, a note of warning in her voice.

“So you’ve already scoped it out.” Nora grinned. No surprise there, Laurie liked being organized and prepared as much as she did. It was part of why they made such a good team. “Now I really do wish I’d made it here for our meeting. Give me the bullet points.”

Pulling her phone out again, Laurie opened the Notes app. “The owner of the Indigo Lounge is a woman named Esme. She opened the place twenty years ago, and it’s always been in the Fairchild Building. It’s evolved from a little hole-in-the-wall lesbian bar into a real community hub.” She scrolled with her thumb. “They host drag shows, fundraisers, regular open-mic nights with local musicians—Mia Cortés, that singer who’s really hot right now, she was discovered there—lots of live entertainment showcasing local queer women. It’s also a brunch and lunch spot with a wide coffee and tea selection and a gourmet menu.”

“It sounds busy,” Nora remarked, flipping through the file folder again before returning it to her briefcase. “But that can’t be the problem? Because it definitely didn’t look profitable enough that this Esme could hold up the sale.”

“No, you’re right, she’s barely turned a profit the last ten years, and the pandemic really stretched her resources thin; she’s been able to get some of those small business grants to stay afloat, but that’s not going to last forever.” Laurie tucked her phone away. “No, the issue is that she seems to be a very stubborn and determined lady. And the place may not be very profitable, but it is popular within the community. You’re likely to meet with strong opposition.”

Nora was good with concrete details, valuation, location, but Laurie always had her beat with the real personal heartbeat of any building The Hartley Group bought. She couldn’t wait for the day Laurie finally decided to take her real estate licensing exam and join her as part of the firm. She really would make a formidable commercial realtor. “Got it. Well, you know me. I don’t think there’s any problem too big for money to solve. Any community hub can be relocated. That building is too valuable for a barely-profitable bar serving a tiny, marginalized segment of the city population to keep taking up space in it.” She stood up and slung the strap of her briefcase over her head. “Besides, after twenty years in one place, I’m sure this Esme person will find she’s itching for a change. It might breathe new life into the place.”

“Maybe so. If anyone can get past an owner standing their ground, it’s you.” Laurie smiled as they walked to the elevator together.

“We’ve done it before, we’ll do it again.” Nora clapped a hand on Laurie’s shoulder before she stepped into the elevator. “See you later. Thank you for the intel today. As always.”

“Anytime, Boss.” Laurie winked as the elevator doors closed. “Go get ‘em, Tiger!”

2

It was rarely a good sign when Oliver, Alexandra, and Matt paid a visit to the Indigo Lounge together. Esme Bloom eyeballed the owners of the Fairchild Building warily as they walked through the door of the café-bar. “Trouble at ten o’clock,” she muttered to Sasha Ashford, her executive chef, who was delivering a tapas plate to romance author Ruby Fierelli, a Lounge regular. Ruby, as usual, was sitting at the bar with a mocktail at her right hand and her laptop in front of her.

Sasha blew out a puff of air that made her droopy quiff of black curls dance over her bold eyebrows. “What are they doing here? Did they tell you they were coming?”

“No, not a whisper.” This annoyed Esme to no end. Usually, they were better about keeping her in the loop on their infrequent appearances. Then Esme had time to prepare herself to sparkle and dance for whatever prospective building investor or tenant they were trying to impress. Because it was always about impressing someone.

Ruby peered at the Trouble Trio from under her blunt-cut red bangs. “Is it me, or do they look even more… I don’t know. Shiny? They look way more bright and shiny than usual. Extra hairspray, designer accessories, and Oliver is actually wearing a suit.”

Trust an author to catch the little details. Esme squinted in the direction of the owners and saw that Ruby was right. Oliver, usually clad in jeans and a casual half-open cotton button-down, was now in an actual suit jacket and slacks. She would have bet good money on pale, lanky Matthew thinking Gucci was a type of pasta dish, yet today his shoes bore the unmistakable horse-bit adornment across his instep.

And Alexandra? Well, she’d always been the most impeccably turned out of the three Fairchild siblings, but yes, today she’d dialed her polish up to eleven. Esme didn’t like any of what this signified—the lack of notice, the extra effort put into their appearances… they were up to something very big, and that couldn’t bode well for her or her beloved Lounge.

Esme washed her hands and dried them on a clean towel before she lifted the bar hatch and let herself out of the enclosure, leaving Sasha and Ruby whispering behind her. As she walked over to the Trouble Trio, she felt uncharacteristically self-conscious in her long skirt and flat sandals. With advance notice, she at least wore closed-toe shoes and smoothed her wild mop of chestnut and silver curls back into a low bun. It wasn’t that she felt the need herself to impress any-damn-body, she just didn’t like feeling wrong-footed. Well, too bad. Today, she’d just have to make the best of whatever this situation was. “Hi, folks.”

Oliver and Matt had the grace to look slightly guilty upon her approach, but the unflappable Alexandra simply tilted her head back slightly and smiled. “Esme, how nice to see you again.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Esme saw nothing wrong with getting straight to the point. It was an added bonus that her directness always seemed to get under Alexandra’s skin. She fought back her smile as Alexandra’s black eyes narrowed.

“No? An oversight. I’m sure one of us told our assistants to give you a call. We’ll have to have a talk with them.” Her tone was smooth and cool, and Esme knew that no assistant of Alexandra had been informed of anything. Likely Alexandra had even impressed on her younger brothers that they weren’t to breathe a word about it, either, judging by the increasingly guilty looks on their faces. Something was definitely up.

Esme crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels slightly. Her goal was to look casual and unbothered. “So what’s going on? Another potential tenant for one of the retail spaces?” If so, she hoped it was the one by the accessories boutique. She’d been trying to convince the siblings to let her expand into the space next to hers for years now. If the Lounge was going to thrive, she needed more space, to expand the postage-stamp stage and backstage area, to give Sasha a bigger kitchen. But they’d resisted all her efforts.

Alexandra’s wide mouth, always painted an unforgiving crimson, turned up into a sly little smile, and her brothers both began actively avoiding looking at anyone. “Oh, we’re past that, Esme.” When she tilted her head, her sleek black ponytail fell forward over her shoulder, and she began to toy with the end of it. “No, we’re meeting someone who wants to buy the whole building.” Without another word, she beckoned to her brothers and swept off into the dining area of the Lounge, commandeering the large table they always sat at during their meetings.

Esme stared after them, open-mouthed with shock. They were going to sell the Fairchild Building? But what about everyone who was still renting space in the building? Shouldn’t they have been given some kind of notice about this?

What was she going to do?

She didn’t realize she was frozen in place, gripping the back of a chair and staring off at nothing. When a small, featherlight touch brushed the back of her arm, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Jesus!”

“E! Calm down.” Sasha’s blue eyes were wide. With care, she pried Esme’s fingers off of the chair and led her back behind the bar. She expertly poured a shot of Grey Goose and handed it over. “Drink that.”

“It’s nine A.M.!” Esme protested.

“It’s five in London,” Sasha replied, unperturbed. “Drink, E.”

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