Page 16 of Billionaire and the Barista

“Cameron, what’s the status on the Lake Moore project?” I asked.

“Gavin should have that. I believe we had just closed on the property. Hold on.”

I could hear her clacking away on a keyboard.

“Yeah, okay. So, it looks like we have closed on one of the properties. The larger of the three lots. There is a small commercial and residential building with the corner property, and a small retail property that have not yet been secured. Clearing the main property was put on hold. I’m sorry my notes are just about calling and having the work put on hold, and not about the rest of it. Maybe Gavin can bring you up to date on that one?”

“Sure thanks,” I said before ending the call.

I flipped through the other two folders on dad's desk. One property was complete, and the leasing contract had gone into effect during the past few days. I was pretty sure I could move that file to the completed jobs pile. Whichever one that was.

I crossed out of the office with the Lake Moore file in my hands. It was a thick stack of documents. I needed to be brought up to speed quickly, especially if we had put on track any work on hold.

In what could only be described as an exchange of hostages in the style of fiefdom holders during the Middle Ages, I had been sent to work for my uncle, while my younger cousin had been allowed to finish university before being given to my father to manage. Gavin was enthusiastic while I had to be dragged into the business. Gavin’s youthful energetic enthusiasm was in stark contrast to mine. He embraced the property and location hunt like a terrier.

“Gavin,” I said walking into his office.

“Dude, what can I do for you?”

The man had grown up in Europe, yet he spoke with the vocabulary and intonation of an American high school stoner. At university, he had all of his associates convinced he was from California when he was about as local as they came.

I dropped the Lake Moore file with a loud thud onto his desk. I need a recap of this project, in writing.

“Well, I can tell you real quick,” he started. “Lake Moore is in a really dodgy area. It’s a big risk going in. With property values doing what they are doing, if we don’t go in now, our profit margin will shut tight like a sphincter. I’m telling you.”

“I can’t listen real quick,” I cut him off. “I need to know the status on all associated properties, where we are in the process on each, and how soon we can be back up and running.”

“On your desk in the morning?” he asked in an even more affected accent. I think he thought he was quoting a movie or something.

“No, before the end of the day. My father left a lot of loose ends, and I don’t have time to second guess everything.”

It was tempting to go over the list of everything I didn’t have enough time for just to shut him up. He didn’t need to know that I still hadn’t made arrangements for my apartment in Amsterdam to be packed up and shipped over. Or that I needed work clothes. I refused to wear the suit I wore to the funeral to the office. At least not yet. It felt disrespectful. Of course, dad would not have been pleased with the jeans option either. Well, he was dead now, wasn’t he? And I had to clean up his mess.

“Sorry about that man. Your dad was a good guy,” he said. His expression lowered and he looked like a thoroughly beat puppy. The man’s acting skills were wasted on me.

My father hadn’t been a good man, but that was neither here nor there. What I needed to know was what was the status of the building? If it was still an operating business, I could probably find out from the people who worked there where Gabriella was, if she wasn’t still there. It had been five years, she had to have moved on by now.

When she crossed my thoughts in the past few years it was with fond memories and hopes that she was doing okay. I hated that things had ended the way they had. That they ended at all. I hoped her choices had served her well.

I had been in the States for over a week. In that time, I had to bury my father, comfort my mother, and keep this office on its feet. And never once did I stop thinking about Gabriella. As if the second my feet hit the ground in St. Louis, she suddenly permeated my thoughts.

I wanted to see her. I needed to see her. I needed to know that she had been okay. I needed to know if there was a way we could pick up where we had left off.

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