Page 10 of Meet Me at the Grand

“I thought as much, seeing as how you brought your suitcase with you to the office on this fine Monday morning. But honey, why didn’t you just go home and rest? You’ve been working nonstop on those two job sites for the last three months, and you logged time every weekend to boot. You’re at least owed a nap.” Marianne adjusted the sparkly white frames of her glasses and glanced down the hallway toward his dad’s office. “I know for a fact the boss wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” But did the hotel penthouse he shared with Dad whenever he happened to be back in Los Angeles really amount to a home? Besides, he had a presentation to prepare for. Liam shifted from one foot to the other. “I need to talk with him about something anyway.”

The phone on Marianne’s desk rang, and she settled into her chair. “All right, get on then.” Picking up the receiver, she said, “Stone Development, this is Marianne. How may I direct your call?” Though focused on her computer screen, she waved her hand at him.

Dragging his suitcase behind him, Liam resumed his walk down the hallway. Before he got to the big corner office, he removed his keys from his pocket, slipped inside his own office, and set his suitcase against the wall. It was hard to say which felt more like home—this place or the penthouse. Or rather, which felt less like home.

Because nothing compared to the home he’d once known. The one lit with warmth by his mother.

But if he could pitch the proposal successfully, maybe he could at least try to build something like he’d once had. And if he made it easier for Dad to retire in the meantime…perfection.

Shaking his head, Liam flipped on the light and moved to the desk, whipping his laptop from the briefcase hanging from his shoulder and setting it down, plugging it in. Turning it on.

A layer of dust coated the desk, the external keyboard, the mouse, and his pen holder—the only things on his desk. And the whole office smelled like an attic that had been shut up for years.

A knock sounded on his door, and he glanced up to find Travis, who looked like he belonged more in workout gear than a navy three-piece suit, with muscles bulging all directions. Liam liked to hit the gym and stay fit, but Travis was on a whole other level.

“Dude, you look like garbage.”

Liam glanced down at his suit, which was only slightly rumpled from his flight. He brushed a piece of lint off his pants. “You’re so good for my ego.”

Travis ran a hand through his styled hair. “Isn’t it already battered after playing my wingman for so many years before I found Monica? I mean, being out on the town night after night, right next to God’s gift to women…”

Liam grinned and walked toward his friend to give him a fist bump. “With a head as big as yours, I’m not sure how you and Monica fit into the same apartment.”

“Sounds like jealousy talking.” Laughing, Travis leaned against the doorway, hands slung in his pockets. “How was New York?”

“Let’s just say Phil McAllister had opinions. Lots of them.”

“Ouch. It was that kind of project, huh?”

“Yep.”

Travis hummed then knocked his knuckles against the door. “So. You ready for this?”

“Was just about to head down the hall to enact step one.”

“More like step one hundred.”

“True.” They’d been talking about this project for the last six months. Preparing. Scouting. Strategizing. But now that they’d settled on the perfect property—the Bertram, as it turned out—it all came down to convincing Dad to go for the project. Invest the funds. Let two of his head site managers take the lead and run with it.

“No worries,” Liam said. “I’ve got this.”

“Good. You know I’m on standby if you need me. And I’ve got the conference room booked for tomorrow just in case he actually says yes to hearing us out.” Travis jutted his chin toward the hallway. “You wanna do a dry run after you talk with him?”

“Definitely.”

“Sweet. I’ll be ready.” Travis nodded before heading out.

All right. Showtime.

Liam stretched his neck back and forth and trudged down the hall toward Dad’s office. When he arrived, he found Dad with his office phone in hand, the cord stretched across his desk to where his father leaned back in his bulky chair.

He always sounded larger than life on the phone, in total command.

But one look at Dad, his body heavier than three months ago, his hairline receding just a little bit more, his beard maybe just a smidge whiter than before, and Liam’s whole body tensed.

This was his only family—all he had left. And since Dad wouldn’t take care of himself, it was up to Liam. It was what Mom had wanted. Her last request.

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