Daddy's Choice. Doreen Malek Owens

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СКАЧАТЬ came right over when I called him about your situation,” John said to Carol, almost apologetically, correctly reading the expression on her face when she spotted his companion. “He brought the contract with him.”

      Kirkland rose to his feet as she entered the room and then sat again when she did.

      The secretary, who was leaving for the day, pulled the office door shut behind them and then Carol heard the thud of the outer door closing, as well. She looked from one to the other of the two men slowly.

      The silence echoed.

      Taylor Kirkland was now wearing a dark blue, pinstriped suit of tropical wool, with a light blue shirt and a navy-and-white-figured tie. He sat with a manila folder in one tanned hand, the other resting lightly on the arm of his chair. Carol noticed that the blond hairs on his fingers were bleached almost white, and that his nails had recently been scrubbed scrupulously clean. The color of his shirt made his eyes look even more vivid than before, and his wavy hair had recently been wet combed into submission. It was now drying and curling around his ears and onto his forehead, lightening to a color millions of women regularly tried, and failed, to achieve in beauty salons.

      Carol looked away from him deliberately.

      John cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose we should get down to business,” he said.

      “By all means,” Carol said.

      “I’ve read Tay’s contract and I must say that everything in it looks to be in order,” John said. “Your father did contract for Tay’s firm to do the work on the house and it was scheduled to begin today. Tay is within his rights to insist on completing the job.”

      Carol glared at him. “Even if I don’t want the work done?” she asked.

      John sighed. “He can insist on specific performance from the estate, Carol. You’re not a layman, you know the rules.”

      “I can get an injunction to keep him off the property until this is resolved in court. That’s in the rules, too.”

      “To what end?”

      “To the end of peace and quiet,” Carol said shortly.

      John shook his head. “The court calendar is dead down here at the best of times—the fishermen don’t sue each other and the tourists stick to Avalon. The case will come up in a week and Tay will be back working on the house in ten days.”

      “I take it you think I’d lose?” Carol inquired darkly.

      “I think there’s a good chance of it.”

      “So I let Kirkland here finish a job I don’t want done and for which I don’t have the money, or he sues me for interference with the performance of his contract and holds me up for a year on selling the house,” Carol said succinctly.

      John pressed his lips together in silence. They both knew that was about the size of it.

      “Thanks a lot, Kirkland,” Carol said sarcastically, and rose to go.

      Kirkland, who up to this point had said nothing at all, rose abruptly and put his hand on her arm. Carol started and pulled back as if he had burned her. She looked up at him, riveted by the intensity of his gaze.

      “I’m not trying to take advantage of you,” he said quietly. “I’ve hired extra men, cleared my schedule of other contracts, and invested a bundle in the materials for your job,” he said. “If I’m forced to stop it now, I won’t be able to unload the materials or get back the business I turned away. If you’ll just let me finish the job, I’ll take payment in the form of a builder’s lien against the property and you can pay me once you sell it. John says cottages like that one, so close to the water, go in a matter of weeks down at that end of the street. And you’ll get a lot more for it once it’s fixed up and modernized.”

      “I see that you two boys have already figured this all out for me,” Carol said pointedly, folding her arms.

      “It’s not like that,” Kirkland said softly.

      “How is it?”

      He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “I know you’re a lawyer…”

      “Not quite yet, Mr. Kirkland, and it looks like your busy little troop of hammering devils just may keep me from ever becoming one.”

      “Look, Miss Lansing. I really don’t want to give you a hard time. Can’t we reach some sort of compromise?”

      His tone was low, almost seductive, and Carol realized that, without seeming to, he was charming her.

      “Like what?” she said warily.

      “I could adjust my schedule and work from eight to four so you could sleep an hour later in the morning every day,” he said reasonably.

      “And the noise?” she asked archly.

      He sighed. “I could use electric staple guns instead of hammers, pad the windows and doors while we’re there, to muffle the sound, and do the noisiest roofing at the end of the day when it won’t be as disturbing to you,” he replied.

      Carol glanced at John, whose expression said, He’s trying, isn’t he?

      Carol looked back at Kirkland, who was waiting tensely, his tall frame motionless.

      “All right!” Carol said, throwing up her hands.

      John grinned, and Kirkland permitted himself a half smile, his light eyes warming just a little.

      “Why do I feel that I’ve just been outgunned?” Carol said wearily.

      “Not ungunned,” John said. “Merely enlightened. You’ll make a tidy profit on the house once it’s renovated, even with the costs of the work deducted.”

      “John, I understand that,” Carol said, holding up her hand. “But my concern at the moment is having a quiet place to study during the summer, not becoming a real estate profiteer.”

      “I’ll do everything I can to help you study,” Kirkland said evenly, and Carol looked at him again.

      It seemed that he meant it.

      Carol nodded resignedly.

      “Can you two shake on it?” John said genially, obviously relieved that he wouldn’t have to take legal steps to resolve their differences.

      Kirkland extended his hand, and Carol reached out to grasp it. His palm was callused and work-hardened, but large and warm. Her fingers disappeared into it and then he relaxed his grip. She snatched her hand back hastily.

      There was an awkward silence, then John said briskly, “Well, I’m glad we were able to come to terms on this. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get home—my wife will probably carve me up with the roast.”

      Kirkland shook hands with John, glanced once more at Carol and said, “I’ll be back at your house at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow, then,” and left.

      John packed his briefcase as he said, СКАЧАТЬ