“Yes, sir. And you are?” I run my finger along my upper lip and then use that same hand to flick the side of my jacket back.
“Teddy Erickson.”
Teddy Erickson,I repeat in my head. But it still doesn’t ring a bell.
Then, he reminds me, “I’m the project manager who used to work with Salvador Flores?”
Oh, that’s right.I feel foolish for forgetting.
I reposition myself in my seat. “What can I do for you, Ted?”
He sniffles before answering, “Unfortunately, I have to relay some bad news.”
My eyelids narrow. “Okay?”
“The land you were set on acquiring for the first Ivory Shores Hotel is about to go to another bidder.”
Shit!“But Teddy, we had to pull away from those negotiations because Sal got sick—”
“I know that, and I tried to explain everything to the owner, but it seems as though his sympathies have run dry.”
“No, but—”
“I’m sorry, Hayden. I really am.”
My heart rate climbs, and my pupils dart from side to side.
“So, that’s just it then?”
I want to throw the phone against the wall, but I resist.
Teddy audibly sighs. “I’m afraid so. As I am sure you’re aware, they really only agreed to the contract because of Mr. Flores. They had done business before, and they trusted his integrity.”
“What aboutmyintegrity?” The Cohen Vineyards have been a staple in Napa Valley for years, and our name is practically synonymous with “business acumen” around these parts and among the entire country.
“Listen, I know you’re frustrated.”
“Frustrated?” I push back and emphasize to no one but myself by standing on my feet.I’m beyond fucking frustrated.Having the land go to the other bidder means failure. And I hate failing.When I was a child, my father would ridicule every mistake and stumble I made. There’s no way I’m going to let this fail.
“Hayden?” he says after I’m quiet for a moment.
“Right, sorry. Um, what’s the buyer’s name again?” I know I should remember, but it’s escaping me at the moment.
“Errol Rawlings.”
“Can you spell that for me?”
He does, and I take careful note of each letter.
“Great. Thank you.”
Without another word, I hang up, open my computer back up, and google his name.
Then, after finding the address, I write it down and call my driver.
“I thought you were working from home today, sir?” Betsy, my sweet, elderly housekeeper, calls after me.
I don’t even turn to face her when I answer, “Something came up.”