Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Greta sweeps her way into the room, managing to carry three salads, nodding with a silent answer when Will looks at her.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers before disappearing again.
I look to the third place setting, wondering what the hell is going on, but it doesn’t take long for a little girl to walk into the room. She seems startled at first when she sees me, but she doesn’t question my presence as she makes her way to Will, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Hello, Uncle,” she whispers before taking the seat directly across from me.
“My niece,” he answers when I give him a questioning look as he picks up his salad fork.
I mirror his actions, finding it even stranger now that he didn’t bring this up while asking me about my personal life.
“Visiting?” I ask as I shift the salad in my bowl with the tines of my fork.
It looks like a Caesar salad, and that’s not really my thing, but I also don’t want to be rude.
“I’m her guardian,” he explains. “Her parents have passed away.”
The girl’s eyes scrunch in the corner, and I decide this isn’t the best table conversation. If it hurts her to think about them, I don’t want to cause any more pain.
“The real estate market here has to be booming.”
He nods, making this entire lunch even weirder.
“Many people buying vacation homes with more money than sense. It makes it easy to sell. Land is becoming hard to come by, and people are ravenous to build around here.”
I nod, understanding just how much the population in Telluride goes up when winter sports are in season. It was the bane of my existence growing up. The streets were crowded, and the local hangouts were overrun. As an adult, I know now that those people brought the influx of revenue needed to keep the town alive, but at the time, I hated every single tourist with a passion.
“I imagine your grandfather’s land would sell quickly.”
I tilt my head at this. How could I have a conversation with this man and not think of asking him for help? It really wouldn’t be a favor because as a realtor, he’d get a cut.
“I could help with the sale of yours. No one around would keep the house, but it would only take a day for demolition.”
This hits me a little harder than I imagined it would.
The house isn’t much, but despite the condition it’s in now, it was home my entire life. I’m realizing I’m more sentimental than I originally thought as the pain it causes to picture the home being broken apart and scooped into dumpsters.
“Fixing it up would cost more than it’s worth,” Will continues. “The market is rife with people wanting to build their dream homes to their own specifications.”
“I may take you up on that offer,” I say in the most noncommittal tone I can manage.
He takes the hint, giving me a quick nod before placing his fork back in his empty salad bowl, a clear sign to Greta to reenter the room with the next course.
Conversation stays surface level, focusing on the weather, tourism, new shops that have opened in town, and although I attribute that to his niece at the table, I decline an invite to sit in his living room and catch up.
“You don’t have to run off so soon do you?”
I give Will a quick smile. “I can’t really run off anywhere. I rode with you, remember?”
His eyes shine a little, making me wonder only briefly if there’s a reason he seems to take so much pleasure in realizing I’m at his mercy.
“My driver will take you wherever you need to go,” he says, sweeping his hand toward the front door.
Strangely, Will doesn’t offer to ride with me. He merely tells me goodbye after making plans to meet up again tomorrow to go over him helping with the sale of Big Daddy’s property.
His driver is waiting with the back door of the SUV open, and I give him a little wave before climbing in.
Chapter 14
Spade
“What took you so long?” I snap in greeting when I answer my phone.
Silence fills the line, and I know it’s Max’s way of showing his disapproval of my tone.
“It’s bad isn’t it?” I say instead of apologizing.
“It’s nothing. That’s what took so long.”
“There has to be something, Max. The man is a fucking creep.”
“William Varon has lived in Telluride all his life. Started work as a handyman, but shortly after doing some work at a local real estate office began selling houses. He seems to have a knack for it. No brothers or sisters. Mother died when he was young. Father died four years ago in a car crash right outside of town. He’s squeaky fucking clean. The man doesn’t even have a speeding ticket. Pays his taxes on time. Donates to local charities.”