to look hurt. “Did I come at a bad time?”
It had taken him a little while to get down to brass tacks. Wendell hadn’t been in the firehouse since the restoration was completed, so now he asked for a tour, feigning interest in every last brass doorknob and hand-forged hinge.
They’d ended up in the living room. The floor-to-ceiling sheer curtains were open and the sunlight illuminated trees outside just beginning to bud out.
“I didn’t realize what an unbelievable view you have here,” Wendell said, settling himself on the sofa. “I might want to get the name of the architect you worked with, for when we get cooking on the north end development. There’s an old smokehouse on one of the lots, and seeing this gives me an idea we might just want to save it instead of tearing it down.”
“There was no architect,” Billy said flatly. “I came up with the ideas and Scott drew up the plans. But thanks.”
“I didn’t know you were such a talented designer,” Wendell said. “Maybe I’ll hire you to consult on the smokehouse.”
“I doubt anybody would pay me for my ideas,” Billy said coolly. “But I’d be happy to take a look at it if you like.”
“That’d be great!” Wendell exclaimed. “In fact, the reason I stopped by here today has to do with the north end. I’ve got a little investment opportunity I think you might be interested in.”
“I don’t know,” Billy said slowly. “I’ve sunk most of my working capital in the firehouse. Everything cost a hell of a lot more than I’d anticipated.”
“You don’t have to tell me about construction and development costs. I’m living it twenty-four-seven right now. But here’s the thing, Billy. I really don’t think you want to miss out on this deal. It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You know what I mean?”
There was no threat, no bullying, nothing so gauche. Everything was implied. And Billy knew the rest was just a formality.
“I’ve got an option on the Holtzclaw land. You know the house, right? The old lady’s finally gone into a nursing home, and I think I’ve about got her son persuaded to sell. The thing is, I gotta move fast, before he changes his mind. There’s no time to go to the bank, so naturally, I thought about you, thought I’d give you first shot at a sure thing.”
Billy swallowed hard. “How much?”
“One point two million,” Wendell said quickly.
“For that falling down wreck on Fiddler’s Creek?”
“It’s not the house. It’s the land. It’s the lynchpin for the whole project, especially the new marina.”
“Marina? I thought you were just talking about a hotel and some new houses.”
“No, man. This is big. The hotel’s the anchor, then we’ll have the new marina, condos, apartments, a new retail village, luxury estate lots, all of it. It’ll be the biggest thing to hit this coast in the past twenty-five years.”
“How does all that affect the wildlife sanctuary?”
“No biggie,” Wendell said. “Your grandfather left it in the family trust. We’ll do a land swap, move the sanctuary to another part of the island. It’s done all the time.”
“Does Riley know about this?” Billy asked.
He shrugged. “Your sister and I have a difference of opinion on some of the fine points, but she’ll come around. Anyway, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”
There it was, the implied threat, again. In the end, he’d had no choice but to write the check and swallow his fears. And after his visitor left, as Wendell knew he would, Billy had cracked open the Stoli and swallowed it, too.
* * *
“The money’s all gone. You know that, right?” Scott said gently.
“I do now. Six weeks ago, Wendell came back to me, and he seemed panicky. Not like himself at all. He said the hotel people were threatening to pull out of the deal. He wanted more money, to sweeten the pot, offer them more incentives. I told him I was tapped out, and asked about my investment. He beat around the bush, but finally told me that if the hotel went south, all bets were off.” Billy gave Scott a curious look.
“You already knew about the hotel thing, didn’t you? I mean, the seafood and steak restaurant, that was going to be your baby, right?”
“Right. ‘Was’ being the key word. I only found out after Darren Cruikshank, the chef, called me, as a courtesy, to tell me the Belle Isle project was off. He’s putting his steakhouse in a hotel down in Lauderdale instead.”
“What