My email box is slammed with a ton of stuff from Nora, current clients, past clients, my accountant, and upcoming appointments. It takes me an hour to wade through it all and organize them by priority.
There’s one from Oliver with no subject line that says, “call me.”
At least he hasn’t been blowing up my phone, and I didn’t tell him he couldn’t email me, so I’m not surprised he immediately found a way to get around my “don’t call me” rule.
Knowing I can’t put off the inevitable forever, I call him.
He answers on the first ring. “Tell me good news.”
“I’m coming up with some ideas.” Sort of.
The fact that Finley admitted she doesn’t enjoy running the cabins gives me hope that there is a resolution—one in which she can keep the memory of her sister alive and keep her family home but also find a way for her to chase her own happiness. Now I need to figure out how to work that into Oliver’s endgame. I don’t know when her desires became tantamount to my own goals, but here we are.
It has to be the physical attraction, the ever-present burn of want, and now it’s been combined with respect for all she’s done, her innate strength, and how she takes care of her family. It’s not often I feel a connection to anyone. And by not often, I mean never.
“I don’t want ideas, Archer. I want a sale.”
“Is that the end goal? I thought you wanted a camp.”
“It’s the same thing.”
I tap my pen against the tabletop. “What if I can get you the result you want but without the sale?”
“What’s the point if I don’t own it?”
I understand his need to be in charge, but I don’t like it. There’s a solution to this. I know there is, something hovering in the shadows of my mind. It’s only a matter of time before I can wheedle it out.
“What about Piper Fox?” he asks.
I frown at the abrupt change in conversation. “What about Piper?”
“Do you know anything about her?”
“Not really.” And even if I did, I might not share it with Oliver. “She’s a metalwork artist, and she lives in LA. Why are you interested?”
“I bought that gallery in SoHo.”
“And?”
“Piper Fox does good work, but she’s impossible to get ahold of. I want a show with some of her original pieces. Fit that into this deal.”
I suppress a groan. Where is this coming from? I don’t even want to know. Oliver is always like this, his thoughts and desires bouncing around faster than I can keep up with. More importantly, how can I work this to my advantage?
“How important would her art be to you?”
Maybe if Piper gives him some of her work, we can get him to compromise in some area. Not likely, but worth a shot.
“I know what you’re thinking, and the camp is more imperative. We have a lot of work to do before we’ll be able to open it, and while some of Piper’s sculptures in my new gallery would be advantageous, it’s not the top of my priority list. Her work is extremely rare right now, and you know how I like exclusivity.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll see what I can do.”
We hang up, and I continue to sort through emails and data Nora and our assistants have sent me over the past week, updates on some past businesses we’ve worked with, and paperwork for the current deals happening in Florida.
One of the emails from Nora, dated yesterday, says:
Are you done yet?
I hit reply.