Page 11 of Meet Me at the Grand

And Liam wouldn’t let her down. Not this time.

Dad’s eyes lifted and connected with Liam, and a huge grin stretched across his tan, weathered face. He waved his son inside and continued speaking into the phone. “No, no, Douglas, you have my word—and you know my word is my bond. We will definitely meet the deadline.” He paused, nodded. “Yep, you’ve got it. All right, I’ll have Marianne contact you with the details.”

One step into the office and Liam felt the difference between Dad’s office and his own. It smelled of the familiar Styrofoam carton of Don Juan’s salsa in Dad’s trash. It was open, and air moved from the vent in the corner. A path was worn into the carpet from the desk to the window where Dad did his best pacing.

Yes, for better or worse, this office was lived in. And someday, hopefully soon, it would be Liam’s. Or partially his, because even a partial retirement would do wonders for Dad’s health.

Dad hung up and leaped to his feet with more enthusiasm than Liam thought possible. “Liam, my boy!”

“Hey, Dad.”

Dad wrapped him in a bear hug—one that just five years ago would have been much fiercer and stronger, but still had all the depth of feeling Liam had come to know from Chaz Stone. After another good thump on his back, Dad let go and stepped back. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but why are you here? You should have taken today off. I would have seen you at home tonight.” He leaned back against his desk.

“That’s what Marianne said too.”

Pressing his pointer finger against the side of his nose, Dad nodded. “Wise woman.”

“I hear that wise woman had to force feed you your pills while I was gone.”

“I changed my mind. That woman is a doggone nuisance.” Dad’s grumble was soft and laced with all the love he had for his old friend, who had been with the company from the beginning, thirty-five years ago.

Liam settled into the plush crimson chair facing Dad’s desk. It was one that his father called “half comfortable”—enough to make visitors feel welcome, but not so relaxing they wanted to stay all day. He crossed his arms. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Bah, just Douglas Kutcher out in Minneapolis. He’s a bit concerned that his renovation won’t get accomplished on time, but I assured him we have it well in hand.”

“Is that the job Jimmy had to leave early?” His wife had gone into labor just last week.

“That’d be the one.”

Hmm. “Trav or I can head on out there if you need someone to assure Mr. Kutcher we’ve got things handled.” He took a breath. Here was his opening. “Though before we do, we’ve got a project we want to pitch you.”

“Atta boy. Always on the lookout for the next client.”

“Actually, this project would be kind of different. But still a fabulous opportunity.”

Dad cocked his head, frowned. “Differentseems to be going around.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. I’ve got a new iron in the fire. I was waiting until you were back to discuss it with you.” Dad walked to the large window overlooking downtown Los Angeles. The skyline was mostly other tall buildings, but slices of blue sky slipped through in a few places. “But tell me about this project of yours first.”

Liam stood, joined him. “I don’t want to give it all away, but basically we’ve found a property right here in L.A. that is ripe for renovation. It’s a great location, has great bones, and we’ve already drawn up plans that would make it the perfect modern retreat for the luxury traveler.”

“Sounds great.” Dad elbowed him, smiling. “So where does the difference come in?”

“We’d be the owners.”

“Ah.”

So much meaning in one little muttering. “I know that means more risk, but it also means more reward. And the price is right. The owner is willing to sell, but only to us. Because of our reputation.” Liam stood straighter. “Just say you’ll take the meeting, and Trav and I can show you exactly what you’d stand to gain.”

Dad stroked his chin, his eyes still locked on the plain brick of the building across the alleyway. “Tell you what. You indulge my request, and I’ll indulge yours.”

Liam turned to Dad, eyebrows raised. “What request?”

“The new project I mentioned. It’s a bit of a unique situation and mostly a favor for an old friend.”

“What friend?”

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