Bargaining for King's Baby / The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition: Bargaining for King's Baby. Maureen Child

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      Two

      Adam knocked on the front door, waited impatiently and then jerked to attention when a shorter, older man opened it and smiled out at him.

      “Adam,” Sal Torino said, stepping back and waving him inside. “Right on time, as always.”

      “Sal. Thanks for seeing me.” Adam stepped into the house and glanced around. It had been a long time since he was last here, but he noticed that the place hadn’t changed much.

      The entryway was wide and lit from above by a skylight that spilled sunshine in a wash of gold across the gleaming pine floors. The hall leading to the back of the house was covered in framed family photos of smiling kids and proud parents. The high, arched doorway that led into the living room where Sal gestured for Adam to follow had been unchanged, as well. The walls were still a soft, warm yellow, the furniture was oversize and comfortable, and a stone hearth, cold now, held a copper urn filled with fresh flowers. Sal took a seat on the sofa and reached for a coffeepot sitting on a tray atop a wide, scarred pine table.

      While Sal poured coffee Adam didn’t want, he wandered the room and stopped at the curved bay window. The glass gleamed in the morning light and provided a sweeping view of the neatly trimmed lawn ringed by ancient oak trees. Adam hardly noticed, though. His mind was already focused on the task at hand: How he would convince Sal to sell him the land he needed.

      “So, what brings Adam King to my house first thing in the morning?”

      Adam turned around to look at his neighbor. Sal stood about five foot eight, had thick black hair streaked with gray, skin as weathered and tanned as old leather and sharp brown eyes.

      He walked over to take the coffee cup Sal offered him and then had a sip just to be polite. Sitting down opposite the other man, Adam cupped the heavy mug between his palms and said, “I want to talk to you about that twenty-acre parcel in your north pasture, Sal.”

      The older man’s face split in an understanding smile as he leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Ah.”

      It wasn’t good business to let your opponent know how badly you wanted something. But Sal Torino was no dummy. The King family had made offers for that land several times over the last couple of decades and Sal had always turned them down flat. So, he already knew how important this was to Adam. No point in trying to pretend otherwise.

      “I want that land, Sal, and I’m willing to make you a deal that’ll give you a hell of a profit on it.”

      Shaking his head Sal took a gulp of coffee, swallowed and sighed. “Adam…”

      “Hear me out.” Adam leaned forward, set his coffee cup down on the tray and sat back again, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “You don’t use that piece of land for grazing or pasture. It’s just sitting there.”

      Sal smiled and shook his head again. Fine. He was stubborn. Adam could appreciate that. He bit down on the impatience scratching at his insides and forced a congenial tone to his voice. “Think about this, Sal. I’m willing to make you another substantial offer for the property.”

      “Why is this so important to you?”

      Now we play the game. Adam wished this were all somehow easier. Sal knew damn well about Adam’s quest to make the King ranch whole again, but clearly he was going to have to spell it all out.

      “It’s the last piece of the original King family holdings,” Adam said tightly. “Which you already know.”

      Sal smiled again and Adam thought the older man sort of looked like a benevolent elf. Too bad he didn’t look like an elf who wanted to sell. “So let’s get down to business here. You don’t need the land. I want the land. Simple as that. So what do you say?”

      “Adam,” Sal started, pausing for another sip of coffee, “I don’t like selling land. What’s mine is mine. You know that. You feel the same way I do.”

      “Yes, and that parcel is mine, Sal. Or it should be. It started out King land. It should be King land again.”

      “But it isn’t.”

      Adam quietly seethed with frustration.

      “I don’t need your money.” Sal sat forward, set his coffee cup down and then stood up to wander the room. “You know that, and yet, you come to me anyway, thinking to sway me with an argument for profit margins.”

      “Making a profit’s not a sin, Sal,” Adam countered.

      “Money is not the only thing a man thinks about, though.”