Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,109

showed him my revisions to his plan the next morning in my office.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded as he and Carl reviewed the spreadsheets and site plan I had edited based on Morticia’s sketch. “Where the fuck are my towers?”

I pulled up the Pinterest board Morticia had made. “Instead of eighty-story towers, we can have a renovated industrial building to be used for artists’ studios.”

“No,” Greg growled.

“Just consider it,” I begged. “This is the only way Dorothy will sign off on the land deal.”

“We can promise all of this to her,” Greg warned me, “but so help me god, I will not be privy to a development that includes…” he read off one of the line items “… a plaza for naked yoga.”

“Dorothy is very insistent that there be space for her classes,” I told him as we headed downstairs. “She wants to sell to someone that has the vision of an artistic, unique space.”

“You were supposed to fuck Morticia and then convince her to sway Dorothy to our side not fuck her, fall in love with her, and then inherit all of her crazy ideas. You need to shape up, or I’m finding another development partner,” Greg snarled.

I blew out a breath, the fog hovering in front of me as we made our way through the abandoned industrial property to Dorothy’s tiny art studio. She and Morticia were outside when we arrived. Morticia was brewing something in a cauldron.

“There are my hot billionaires!” Dorothy said, arms spread wide. “You boys want some grog?”

“It’s ten thirty in the morning,” Greg said, incredulous.

“Of course,” I said loudly, “we’d all love some, thank you.”

Dorothy had tree stumps arranged around the fire. Greg gingerly sat on one. One of the geese came close, honking, and attacked Greg’s shoes. Morticia came by with a cracked tray and handed him a steaming mug of grog. He sipped it then coughed furiously.

“That will warm you up,” Dorothy told him as Carl thwapped his brother on the back. “Now,” she said, settling on her own tree stump, the geese gathering around her, “tell me all about your plans for Hamilton Yards. I’ve heard about it from Jonathan, and I’ve been liking what I’m hearing, but I need more specifics.”

“What has he told you?” Greg asked apprehensively.

“On the list,” Dorothy said, ticking off her fingers, “is free artist studio space, a big event space where I can hold my creative spiritual retreats, and lots of open space for festivals and nude yoga. Oh, and of course, we’re having three towers arranged like a cock and balls.”

Greg was stunned.

“We can work on the configuration,” I said hastily as his gray gaze swiveled over to me.

“No,” Dorothy insisted. “I want it written in the contract that it’s going to be a cock-and-ball tower.” She whipped out a sketch she had done. “In fact, I think you should put little round hats on the ball towers to make them look more like testicles.”

Greg opened his mouth then closed it.

“We can’t promise that Hamilton Yards will be built exactly like this,” Carl began.

“You can’t?” Morticia interjected. “Because I was asking around, and apparently there are developments where there are deed restrictions placed on the property ahead of time, and the site is rezoned for a specific site plan. We could do the same here just to ensure that we are all on the same page.”

She smiled. It was all teeth.

Dorothy beamed. “Isn’t she smart as a whip?”

59

Morticia

“I’m concerned,” I told Dorothy after the Svenssons and Jonathan had left the meeting. “They seem like they’re trying to pull a fast one.”

“I don’t think Jonathan would do that,” she said, puttering around the fire.

“I think he means well, but I don’t trust those Svenssons,” I told her. “They basically bought up all of Harrogate and are turning it into their own little fiefdom.”

“But they’re so good-looking.” She sighed.

“We should be cautious,” I warned her.

“It’s Christmas,” Dorothy told me, pouring me more grog. “Live a little! You need to go shopping for the party tonight anyway.”

“What party?”

“Jonathan’s company party. I got an invite,” she told me. “I’m wearing my feather dress. It’s nothing but mesh, sequins, and feathers. I look stunning in it.”

“I’m sure you do.”

I wondered why Jonathan hadn’t invited me to his party as I headed back to his condo. The meeting had made me nervous for Dorothy. The three men had seemed as if they were hiding something.

Jonathan was in his study when I returned. I needed to talk to