The phone rang several times before a groggy voice answered.
"Brinkman."
"Yes, sir." His employee's voice became more alert.
"I want you to accept Ms. Prescott's counteroffer on the house—"
"But, but, sir," Brinkman sputtered. "I think we can get it for a lower price. If you'll just let me work on it a little longer—"
"No," Cole said. "The counteroffer is still below market value. It's a good deal."
"Yes, sir, I know," the other man agreed with a promptness that bordered on sycophancy. "But we're dealing with the granddaughter now, not the old man's servant. It's always easier to bluff women into a lower price—"
"Brinkman."
"I could just tell her that the market is down everywhere. You know, sir, the usual stuff. Point out that not many people are interested in a huge decaying house with ungodly utility bills."
"Brinkman?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Listen to me carefully. Accept her offer." Cole's fingers drummed on the steering wheel. He'd chosen Brinkman to handle this deal specifically because he didn't have any other ties to the man. When you were high profile and wanted something done in secrecy, such precautions were necessary.
But the longer he worked with the man, the less he liked Brinkman. Good credentials couldn't take the place of intelligent experience.
"Fine, sir." The other man's voice became clipped. "I'll take care of it in the morning. But I'm sure she'll want to check it out with the old man. She told me she would if we accepted."
"That's okay," Cole said. "As long as we get this thing tied up as soon as possible."
Six
Elinor drew a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on Oakleigh's heavy wooden door. She stood in the deep gallery that blocked the early-summer sun, creating a cool respite. Blocking her memories of Cole dancing her past these massive columns, Elinor made herself focus on the meeting ahead.
After two years of disregarding her presence in Bayville, her grandfather had requested to see her. She'd almost dropped the phone when Charlie called.
As she stood there waiting for her knock to be answered, she wondered what to expect. Would her grandfather finally give her some direction regarding the sale of Oakleigh? She hoped so, because she was hesitant to solve the dilemma on her own. Despite the lack of closeness in their relationship, she felt a responsibility for the old man.
On the other side of the door, she heard a bolt being drawn. The door creaked open revealing Charlie's morose, deeply lined face. Every time Elinor saw Charlie, she wondered how much attending her grandfather for forty years had contributed to the crankiness of his attendant's habitual expression.
"Come in, Miss Elinor. He's waiting." The old servant pulled back the door.
"Thank you, Charlie. How is he today?" she asked, following him across the wide hall to what had once been a front parlor.
"He's fine," Charlie replied as he always did.
The parlor doors had been thrown open this morning and the blinds drawn back at the windows. For the first time, Elinor didn't feel like she was groping her way across to her grandfather. He sat in his usual chair, but there was an alertness to his face she'd never seen.
The difference in him surprised her, and it was several seconds before she noticed Cole sitting in a chair a few feet away.
Cole watched Elinor's reaction as she met his eyes, glancing away quickly. He hadn't seen her since their argument several nights ago at her cottage. The sight of her set off a thrumming of response in him. He wanted to smooth the wariness off her face and promise her he'd make everything better, but he made no move toward her.
"Grandfather, I understood that you wanted to see me?" She hesitated.
"I do," the old man answered testily. "Sit down." He indicated an empty chair between he and Cole.
"Is there some reason why Mr. Whittier is here also?" she ventured.
Cole bit back a smile. He'd wondered the same thing ever since receiving Charlie's message that Daniel wanted him to drop by at one that afternoon.
"I can have visitors, can't I?" Daniel Prescott snapped in a rusty voice. A sly smile crept over his sunken features. "I wanted to see the millionaire for myself."
"Of course," she murmured, clearly humoring the old man's forgetfulness.
It had been several weeks since Elinor had found Cole lurking in the garden. Maybe Daniel really didn't remember meeting him before. But Cole doubted it. There was an almost amused gleam in the old man's eyes. He looked more alert today, and yet weaker.
"I want to talk to you about some things," Daniel announced in a determined voice.
"I'm glad," she assured him.
"You're not married, are you?" Daniel stated, obviously knowing that she wasn't
"No," she answered hesitantly, searching the old man's face again.
"Well, you ought to be," Daniel declared, thumping the arm of his chair with a gnarled hand. "A woman doesn't need to be alone. There are too many scalawags running around."
Catching Elinor's furtive glance in his direction, Cole couldn't resist the humor of the situation. What was Daniel up to?
"So why haven't you married?" her grandfather continued, oblivious to the byplay. "Your good-for-nothing father put you off men?"
Cole squelched a laugh as Elinor drew in a deep breath, clearly trying to hold her temper in check. Didn't Daniel have any idea how embarrassing it was for her to be questioned this way with Cole as a spectator?
"Can we talk about this some other time, Grandfather?" she requested, her voice even.
"No, we can't," Daniel said irritably. "Might not be another time."
Elinor's protest seemed to spring out automatically. "But you're obviously feeling better. We have plenty of time."
Daniel's face turned grim. "I don't know about that, but I have business to attend to." He paused for long minutes, his eyes staring off at a memory that no one else in the room could see. "This offer to buy Oakleigh ..." His voice trailed off.
"Yes?"
He leaned back in his chair, laughing soundlessly. "Things always turn out different than you think, Granddaughter." His eyes lit briefly on Cole. "People you never think you'll see again show their faces when you least expect them."