Читать книгу Moonlight In Vermont - Kacy Cross - Страница 5

One

Spring in Manhattan brought rejuvenation, fresh perspective, and lots of shiny new properties on the market. Fiona Rangely intended to take advantage of all three in her quest to stay on top of the real estate game. Her face graced Sold! signs across the city, and as soon as she closed this next deal, she’d beat her own record for the month.

Everyone deserved a place to live that could become a home, where they’d build families and create memories. This conviction had helped Fiona become the queen of Manhattan real estate—that and a better-than-average ability to shut down her emotions during negotiations.

Fiona put on her game face and turned her attention to the only thing standing between her and an unparalleled property with a view of the river.

On a good day, other brokers called Tony Kapucki a shark. It wasn’t because he swam really fast. He had a reputation for bleeding every last cent out of a sale and she knew he’d try to take a bite out of this deal too.

He didn’t disappoint her.

“Do you realize what’s happening in the market?” Tony asked as they squared off over coffee.

“You’re dreaming, Tony. You know it’s a fair offer.” She ignored his nonchalant shrug and leaned in as if about to impart a secret. “And you get to look like a hero presenting it to your client!”

“Fiona.” Tony’s smirk held a hint of desperation. “I know you.”

That meant she had him on the ropes. Now for the final one-two punch. “Then you know to listen to me.”

“Eh.” Tony’s gaze shifted away from hers. “Another few weeks on the market, who knows what my client’ll get.”

“My guess? Some shaky offers and an angry co-op board. So what’s it gonna take to close this deal, and give a nice grandma and her Pekinese a home?”

Throwing in a mention of a dog always helped paint the picture for her opposition, and this was no exception. Tony took the knockout with grace, though he didn’t hesitate to tack on a few amendments to the contract that favored his client. No problem. The deal shook out in less than five minutes.

The hustle of the city slapped her with its noise and beautiful chaos the moment Fiona stepped outside the bistro where she’d met Kapucki and handed him his hat. Her client waited for her near the entrance, looking too nervous to sit at one of the sidewalk tables lining the street.

“We’ve got a deal,” Fiona said to the older lady, completely unable to keep her face from splitting into a wide grin. “And you’ve got a rooftop apartment by the river.”

The relief and genuine excitement on her client’s face as she processed what had just happened gave Fiona a rush that she couldn’t replicate any other way.

“They must have had a hundred offers,” the woman gushed as she and Fiona strolled a bit away from the crowd to where they could hear each other. “How’d you do it?”

More like eighty-five offers, to be exact, but who’s counting. “Oh, a little creative financing and a whole lot of begging.”

“Thank you.”

The gratitude in her client’s eyes was all the thanks Fiona needed. “Location is everything, and you’re gonna love that place.”

“Fiona, you’re amazing. Let’s celebrate.” The other woman grasped her arms in genuine enthusiasm, which only made it harder to say no.

Unfortunately, she had to. Nathanial’s partners had rented out the poshest watering hole on the Upper East Side, and finally, after eight months of dating, Fiona would be meeting his work colleagues. She’d hoped the first time they were introduced, it would be as Nate’s fiancée, but he had yet to take her many hints. The man moved so slowly sometimes!

Maybe she’d drop a few more breadcrumbs. If she laid a clear path, maybe she’d get a proposal for her birthday, though it was three very long months away.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Fiona said and threw in, “But congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

Fiona sent her client on her way and palmed her cell phone. It fit into her hand perfectly, almost as if it had been made for her dimensions. This phone saved her life every day. Sometimes she had nightmares about losing it or dropping it onto the tracks at the Franklin Street station near her office in Tribeca. If that happened, she’d be lost, having no contact with the things that comprised her world.

Before she could dial, Nate called. She told him she was on her way. As she looked around for the hired car she’d ordered at the bistro right after Tony caved, she dialed her assistant, Andy, for their hourly check in.

Fiona wasn’t a control freak and Andy got that. She might be more of a perfectionist than anything, but really it boiled down to the personal touch. Her clients trusted her with their homes, many of which went for seven-figure price tags. You didn’t repay that trust by passing off clients to an assistant. You crossed every t and dotted every i.

“Andy. Okay, all done for the night?”

Andy cleared his throat. “Small change of plans. The Morrisons’ flight tomorrow morning got bumped, so they’re leaving on the red eye. Tonight. They need to make a decision before they go to Europe.”

That thumping in her ears could not be her pulse. It was far too loud.

“But they can’t leave town tonight,” she returned inanely. No, no, no. This was not happening. “I’m showing them the two bedroom tomorrow and the location’s amazing, right by their kids’ school.”

“Sorry, boss. They want you to meet them now,” Andy returned matter-of-factly, as if the entire night hadn’t just slid into the gutter.

“Now?” she gasped and glanced at her watch. “I just told Nate I would meet him—”

Deep breath. The Morrisons needed a home, a place to raise their children. Nate would understand if she was a teensy bit late. He was special and really cared about her. “You know what, I can do both. See you soon.”

Positive thinking had gotten her through more than one sticky situation. It wouldn’t fail her now.

When Fiona rushed into the swanky bar hosting Nathanial’s work party, her pulse hadn’t calmed down since her earlier phone call with Andy. “Late” did not begin to describe her tardiness, but the Morrisons would not be rushed, nor would she have forced them to cut short their tour of the home she’d found for them.

They’d loved the brownstone, and as she’d expected, the location had sealed it for them. Their two kids could walk to the private school they attended, and no less than four restaurants occupied spaces on the corner. The couple had asked Fiona to put in an offer while they were in Europe, so the side trip had been worth it for the commission alone, but knowing she’d given them a home instead of a place to put their stuff—that was why she did what she could to put her clients first.

Nate stood by the bar, looking handsome and devastating in a custom-made suit that fit him so well, her stomach fluttered. The culmination of a perfect evening. She could relax with Nate and tell him about her stellar day. He’d be proud, smiling down at her with his trademark eye twinkle that he reserved just for the lady in his life.

“Nate, I am so sorry!” she called out with an apologetic smile for the man she’d been falling for all these months.

She noted with a bit of trepidation that Nate was the only one in the room. It wasn’t that late. Barely nine-thirty. Where was everyone else?

When Nate turned to face her, the first inkling that she’d messed up skated through her stomach. There was no trademark twinkle. He did not hug her as he usually did, choosing to stuff his hands in his pants pockets instead. He looked every inch the corporate powerhouse he personified at work...and nothing like the man she wished to spend the rest of the night unwinding with.

“Fiona.” The frost in his voice set her back. “Finally.”

Scrambling, Fiona shook her head. “My schedule was timed to the minute. But my Uber clipped a food truck and I had to get out and jog the last eight blocks. Listen, I know this was important to you.”

Oh, man, was Nate ever annoyed. His lips tightened as he contemplated her. “The partners only meet twice a year.”

She knew that, she really did. He’d told her many times how special tonight was. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. My schedule this time of year is just a blitz.”

“We’re a great couple when we see each other.” Nate’s face became inaccessible with an expression she’d never seen before. “But I’m not dating your schedule, and lately it seems like you never have time for me.”

“So I’ll make time—”

“We are who we are. I just think maybe we want different things.”

Dumbstruck, she stared at him. That sounded an awful lot like the precursor to a conversation she had not prepared for. He knew how important her career was. Right? And that when you worked in real estate, you had to be at the beck and call of your clients, many of whom worked during the day and required evening showings. Being available and flexible at all times was an integral part of her service.

“Nate, what are you saying?”

“That I’m tired of being just one more ball in your juggling act.”

Fiona shook her head automatically, as if that could somehow ward off the awful direction of this conversation.

“Yes, I may be juggling, but I’ve never dropped you.” And then it hit her that he wasn’t buying. His face had already closed in. “Are you…dropping me?”

Her voice broke on the last word and that cued the prick of tears. Unacceptable. Emotions had no place here, and the less he saw how this bombshell was affecting her, the better. She blinked back the tears and stood there without a single way to deflect what she knew was coming.

“I’m just doing what’s best for both of us.”

His voice was gentle, but it didn’t matter. The words pierced through her like bullets. Without another word, she fled the bar and blindly searched for the Uber app on her phone, refusing to cry, refusing to feel. She hated being at the mercy of emotions, especially this sensation as if her chest was about to explode from too much pressure.

This was why she avoided things that made her feel too much. Which meant it was time to lock it down.

That condo near her office with the second bathroom that she’d earmarked for her and Nate—just in case he proposed sooner than she’d expected—had just become the perfect property for one of her clients. First thing in the morning, she’d figure out which one it fit best, ensuring that the demise of her relationship with Nate still had some kind of positive outcome. That was the only way she’d get through this—by focusing on making someone happy through real estate that would become a home.