Page 3 of Late Nights & Love Lines
Beck drops his paint can on the deck, then approaches us slowly with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed.
Strange. He’s always been a hard one to read, but his utter confidence has never been in question.
“The house is all set,” Beck says to no one in particular. “We cleared the trail from the house to camp last week so the kids can play at the beach or over here during the day doing…camp things.” He frowns as if the idea of a summer camp confounds him. “The crew will be here over the next week getting everything finished for the campers, but there’s enough to keep your kids entertained for now. Did Leo show you the house yet?”
“I’ve never met anyone who dropped four million on a beach house without ever stepping foot in it.” Leo chuckles.
“I’d have paid double if it meant getting my kids out of Boston,” I mutter without thinking, and my shoulders tense.
Leo simply pats me on the back. “I understand the need for do-overs, and I do appreciate the partnership. You taking that property off my hands while sharing the land is why I can get this camp up and running.”
I hadn’t intended to start another partnership in this small town, especially not one that makes me a silent owner of a children’s camp, but life, and my grandfather, have a funny way of making shit happen.
“I told you I would have bought in,” Beck grumbles.
Leo chuckles. “Now you don’t have to.”
Beck looks at me again. “Anyway, my wife was over at your place for all the furniture deliveries, but she vetoed your linens.”
Why would a woman I’ve never met have an opinion about my sheets and towels?
“Stella said they were too itchy,” he continues, “and the kids need something soft. She wanted their rooms to be welcoming or something. Listen, she was a kindergarten teacher in a former life. I just do what she says.” He tugs on the back of his neck as if he’s uncomfortable with this conversation.
“Thank you?” I appreciate the help, but everyone here—even the people, like Stella, I haven’t met yet—has gone above and beyond what I expected for a corporate deal. Making sure kids are comfortable is something you do for friends and family, not a new business partner.
“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce…and all that followed it,” he says.
And there it is. Pity. I school my features.
“The divorce was painless,” I lie. “We both come from money so the prenups were ironclad.”
“I doubt that, but I’ve lived through deceit,” Beck says gruffly. Now he has my attention. The scandals with his family have never been confirmed, but rumors always fly in our circle. “And I have girls at home who understand all too well how to survive. Kids shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of shit,” he says angrily. “I should tell you I’m not here to get into your personal business, but…well, it happens in small towns. Especially Sailport Bay, but also in this partnership of ours. Walker Meridian and Hayes Sinclair—Crystal Waters are now forever tied together, and we’re here to help with whatever you need.”
“Why?” Every other recent business transaction I’ve had has ended with a handshake or unsigned contract, thanks to Nick’s machinations. Beck is making this feel personal, pushing my fears to the forefront.
“Because professionally our success is now tied to yours, and personally, I know what it’s like to fight for your kids, your company, and an asshole trying to take it all away from you.”
Okay, so they’re not only my partners but the welcome wagon—got it.
Meridian Waters, the combining of two powerhouse companies, pushes the boundaries of luxury investments.That’s what the PR release will say, if I can get our investors back.
And once again, my mood takes a nosedive.
“Nick won’t be with my company much longer,” I say.
Beck’s brows raise. “I’d question your decision-making abilities if he were.”
Thank fuck he wasn’t the factor that sold them. My shoulders drop about three inches.
“Listen, Sebastian. Nick may have brought us this deal, but we agreed because of you—it was your name on that letterhead, your reputation we were interested in. But we need assurances that Nick isn’t going to fuck us,” Elijah says.
“You have my word.” It must be the nostalgia of summer camp that has me twisting my fingers behind my back as though I’m ten years old again, and I silently send up a prayer that I can follow through with this particular promise.
Elijah grins, and Beck holds out his hand. “Welcome to Sailport Bay, then. We’ll work out of my home office once you’ve got your kids settled. I’ve had personal experience with internal sabotage. I think it’s best if we keep the details on lockdown until we’ve closed the deal.”
I should be pissed that he believes I’ve lost control of my company, but I’d be just as careful if I were him.
Dropping our handshake, I say, “My CFO, Alexei Stepanov, will be my only contact on this deal.”
