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“No. I got the vote delayed for six weeks. I was going to tell you after your trip.”
A long silence follows.
“Rachel Hartwell.”
She hasn’t used that tone with me since I was a child. I stop pulling at a loose thread on my pajama bottoms.
“You’ve been looking forward to this trip for months,” I say. “There was no point worrying you when you were thousands of miles away.”
“I understand why you kept quiet, but the Hartwell is my home too. I need to know when someone is trying to build a hotel beside it.”
Guilt settles in my stomach. “I know.”
“Your grandfather spent years fighting to keep companies like Voss out of Old Downtown. He sat through more planning meetings than I can count. What are you doing to stop them?”
The honest answer is not enough. Delaying the vote bought me time. Refusing access to the lane may force Eric to change his plans. Neither one will stop him from building.
“Their current design depends on using our service lane, and I’ve told Eric he can’t.”
“He needs our lane?”
“His current design does.”
I explain how Voss submitted the plans without getting our permission to use the lane. Eric assumed we would agree to share it.
Grandma listens without interrupting, which is the first good sign since I answered the phone.
“If I refuse, he has to redesign the whole ground floor,” I finish. “That’s why he’s been sending the gifts.”
“You think he expects you to give him access because he bought everyone breakfast?”
“No. He isn’t that stupid. He wants the staff and everyone on the street to see Voss as a generous company with plenty of money to spend.” I glance at the wine beside me. “I also think he may be reminding me how easily he could win them over when his hotel starts hiring.”
“You think he’ll offer our staff jobs?”
“Maybe. He hasn’t said anything, and I could be reading too much into it. But he’s putting a lot of effort into making them like him.”
“And what’s your plan if he does?”
I wish I had a good answer.
“I don’t know yet.”
I push the wine away and lean back against the sofa. Grandma stays quiet for so long that I check the screen to make sure the call hasn’t dropped.
Then she says, “I’m coming home.”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re not ending your trip early.”
“The hotel’s under threat.”
“There’s nothing you could do that I can’t.”
“Rachel—”
