Page 49 of The Fixer

Hailey left with a promise to help again tomorrow if Joy needed it, and Joy quickly accepted the offer. Not only did Hailey’s presence keep her focused, but it made the task less overwhelming. The camaraderie also kept her demons at bay.

With Hailey gone, Joy didn’t have the will or the energy to resume the sorting, so she checked email on her phone. Between her smartphone and her smarter PA, she’d managed to keep in touch where she needed to, but if she was going to stay in this town a little longer, it was probably time to get internet. Did they evenhaveinternet? Of course they did, or how else could the businesses operate their point-of-sale systems?

You’re being too tough on this town, inner Joy admonished.

She had just picked up her device when the front door opened, tinkling the little bell above it. That bell, pleasant as it sounded, was a harbinger of uninvited visitors. Now it announced the arrival of a snowy-haired stranger. On closer inspection, his long hair was actually a blond so pale it appeared white, and the thought occurred he bleached it. His forty-something face had an orange fake-tan cast to it, and his baby-pink Versace polo shirt seemed purposely a size too small so it would display the muscles on his muscles. He reminded her of the egocentric CEOs she often dealt with, complete with the premium label clothes, minus the bodybuilder physique. This broad-chested guy was obviously very conscious—and quite proud—of his appearance, but the appeal he was trying to project had the opposite effect. It was a total turnoff.

Just as her inner voice was calling out her kettle labeling the pot black, Hulk closed the door and gave her a laser-white smile. He held out his hand in introduction.

“I’m Bruno Keating. You might have heard of me? I own a well-known restaurant one street over.”

She shook, giving him her extra firm grip. “Dell’s?”

His expression turned smug. “Youhaveheard of me.”

Joy folded her arms across her chest. “Not until yesterday, when your contractor stopped by to see if he could convince me to use him to renovate this place.”

“And was he successful?”

She decided against sharing with this bozo that all Carl Weatherly had managed to do was solidify her choice of contractors. “I have a number of options. I’m weighing them all.”

Bruno parked his hands on his hips, making a big deal out of flashing his Rolex and a gold pinkie ring with a diamond way too big for the setting. Opulence on full display. He gave the interior of the shop a deliberate sweep of his gaze before settling his eyes back on her. They were an icy blue, not so different from Hailey’s, but unlike hers, his held no warmth. Only a cunning, calculating coldness.

“You’re the executor of Helene’s estate, correct?”

Joy nodded.

“While you’re weighing those options, here’s another one for you to throw into the mix.”

Keeping her face bland and her body perfectly still, she waited. The silence on his part was premeditated; he wanted her to jump in so he could read her reaction and plan accordingly. When she didn’t give him that satisfaction, he cleared his throat. “I understand you’re not too enamored of our little oasis in the mountains and that you’re anxious to get back to Chicago.”

How does he know that?Hailey’s words about people in small towns knowing your business floated back. Joy neither acknowledged nor denied, merely lifted an eyebrow in answer.

Bruno continued. “I’ll take it off your handsnow, cash on the barrelhead. No inspections, no appraisals, no hoops to jump through. Nice and easy and quick.” He made a gliding motion with his hand—the one sporting the clunky ring. “The only thing I need is clear title, and we can get that resolved in a few days.”

“I suppose you have a figure in mind?”

“I do.” He launched into a laundry list of everything that was wrong with the place, along with a few things thatcouldbe wrong with the place,building up to the big reveal: a number that was a quarter of the lowest range Charlie had quoted when they’d tossed around values.

Joy stifled an outraged laugh as Bruno studied her with his beady blue eyes, using her most even tone. “Are you willing to put that in writing?”

An evil grin split his burnt-orange face. “Happy to. Shall I write up a contract that spells out the terms? I’m an attorney. From Aspen.”

Was this her cue to gasp?Puh-leeze.He wasn’t the only one with a law degree in this room, though she wasn’t about to flaunt it or give him any hints of who he was dealing with. “A letter of intent will be sufficient.”

He raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, closed it, and raised his other eyebrow. “That’s not as binding as a contract. Makes it risky for you if I withdraw the LOI.”

She was mildly surprised he hadn’t thrown in a “little lady.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

His tan face darkened to a ruddy red. “All right,” he blustered. “If that’s what you want.” An idea seemed to strike, and his tone became more conciliatory. “Why don’t I do this, Joy? I’ll include a signature line at the bottom where you can accept the offer after you’ve had a chance to look over the letter. It’s the best offer you’re going to get.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Keating.”

“Bruno. Please.” He flashed her another disingenuous smile, like a light switching on.

Matching his fake smile, she opened the door as a silent signal for him to get the hell out. “Thank you, Bruno. I look forward to seeing that letter.”

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