We all turned to the sound of a new voice. Harris grinned when a balding, middle-aged, muscular man dressed in a sharp suit entered. “Simon!”
“Harris, lad, good to see you.” Confidence oozed off the newcomer as he and Harris shared a bro-hug. “Look at you, eh? All mature and tatted up, running a successful business. How long’s it been?”
“Too long, man. I’m excited to have you at the head of this project.” Harris patted Simon’s shoulder.
“I’m excited to be considered, given the shit year I’ve had.” Simon turned to me, and his expression softened. “Who do we have here?” For some reason, his voice reflected reverence.
“I’m Lou.” I held my hand out, expecting to shake his. But instead, he bowed to kiss it. With a cheeky smile, I nodded toward Harris. “I’m with him.”
“Are you his conscience?”
I laughed at the quip. “Sometimes, maybe.”
“She’s a pain in my ass,” Harris joked even as he drew me against him.
“I think Mr. Tuck is waiting on us.” I pointed to the real estate agent waiting patiently by the bar.
“Sorry, mate. Simon Dutton. Please continue.” Simon shook the agent’s hand.
“Not a problem. Welcome.” Lamar indicated the space by throwing out his bulked arms. “This space holds the capacity to seat fifty diners. The kitchen space is two hundred and fifty square feet with a generous-size beverage bar. Water frontage with high foot traffic at a competitive price.”
Without a word, Harris and Simon ducked out the back.
Lamar ticked his dark gaze my way, and I smiled politely. “Harris is thinking about it. He likes to be thorough.”
Lamar adjusted his cuff. “Of course.”
The two of us waited there in awkward silence for a few moments until I broke the ice. “So, how long have you been in real estate?”
Lamar seemed pleasantly surprised by my small talk. “Fifteen years now. Since my eldest child was a toddler.”
“Oh, you have kids?” I smiled at the thought.
“Three. All girls, including the one who’s fifteen. They drive me bonkers.”
We laughed together.
“What about you, marm?”
My smile dimmed somewhat. “Oh. No, not me. I have enough to worry about.” I pointed toward the kitchen, indicating I meant Harris and not wanting to get into all the gory details about me being infertile.
Lamar chuckled.
Harris and his pal came back momentarily, chatting away.
Simon addressed Lamar. “Good first pick. But not quite what we’re looking for.”
Harris looked at Lamar. “Let’s take a look at the next one. I’d like a little more room in the kitchens.”
“Of course. It’s right across the footbridge by Bank Street.”
The air outside was like ice. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself as I followed the men over the footbridge that spanned the South Dock.
It was fantastic watching Harris so animated and vibrant. He wasn’t jovial often enough. The darkness inside him tended to catch him in its grip all too often.
This Simon fellow seemed to be a rather good influence on him. I wasn’t quite sure what Simon’s relationship with Harris was. A friend, sure. But a co-worker? A mentor? Although I was curious to find out, it could wait until later.
I picked up my pace and asked, “So, why Canary Wharf?”