A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(58)

But now maybe it will. I take a deep breath. “First of all, I want you to know that you have options. If you still want to sell, I can help you find another buyer.”

“If I still want to sell,” my father repeats slowly. “Of course I’m selling. I’ve been saying that this whole time. Did you think I was kidding?”

I feel pressure inside my chest. “No,” I say carefully. I have to remember that the Sharpe’s treachery is a disappointment for my father. He thought he had his retirement figured out. He thought it was going to be simple. He still has to get his head around that. “I didn’t think you were kidding. But it makes sense to call Block and ask what he wants. What if there’s a way to expand Madigan Mountain that doesn’t ruin Penny Ridge?”

My father looks down at his hands. “I won’t work with Block. That’s off the table.”

Shit. “Why? What if I could talk him into selling to us?”

His voice turns hard. “Again, you missed the part where I’m retiring. Melody already has an itinerary for us. We’re headed to Hawaii after Christmas. And from there, we’re headed to Japan, Australia, New Zealand…”

“How decadent,” I say, and it’s hard to keep the sneer out of my voice.

He eyes me from behind the desk. “You can think whatever you think, Reed. I can’t do this job forever just because the Sharpes have a plan you don’t like. Your opinion doesn’t matter here.”

I take a slow breath. He’s actively trying to push me away.

I deserve that. And I get it. Sort of.

Okay, I don’t really get it. “Why would you say that? Why would you yell at me for never coming home and then cut me down when I’m trying to help?”

“Because timing matters. I’ve finally got my life sorted out, and now you want to throw a grenade into my plans. You don’t get to do that. Besides, Reed,” he continues, “the Sharpes will never get that project built the way they drew it. The town council will shut down the worst of it. We don’t have to be the bad guys here.”

“Right, because we don’t have to be the bad guys. We don’t want to kill off the Madigan legacy by selling to the worst humans in property development.”

“I’m retiring,” my father says, low and angry. “Ava, would you give us a few minutes, please?”

She’s out of the room and closing the door almost before the words are out of his mouth.

Hell. “Let’s take a step back and talk about your options,” I try.

“My options are to sell, or not to sell,” he snaps. “It’s not that complicated.”

“The third option is to buy the land from Block,” I point out. “I could help you with that. Hear me out. What if you just retire from running the day-to-day operations of the resort? Ava is ready to do that job. You could retire tomorrow, do some traveling, and then come back to work on a deal with Block. Just explore some possibilities.”

“Jesus, Reed,” my father explodes. “I don’t want to deal with Block! I don’t know why you even think that’s an option! I can’t buy him out. I can’t expand the resort without selling the resort because we are asset rich and cash poor. Whatever Block’s land is worth, it’s more than I have in the company checking account.”

“But I’d help you with the financing,” I say. “Funding good ideas is my day job. We’d just need some investors.”

“Investors.” He says the word as if it tastes bad on his tongue. “I don’t want investors. You’re talking about a complex, years-long project without a guarantee of success. That is the opposite of what I am trying to do. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Dad, I’m willing to—”

“Go home to California, Reed. At no point did I ask for your help.”

A cold kind of dread spreads through my chest. I’m losing this fight, even if I don’t really know why. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that I might know a few things? That I can make this work?”

His face turns red. “Why is it so hard for you to admit you’re a decade too late? If you had shown even the slightest interest in this place before last Tuesday, I’d be tempted by this idea. But you can’t ride in here and tell me not to accept the offer of a lifetime. The time for hypothetical solutions is past!”

“It’s not hypothetical,” I snap. “I can do this. I want to do this.”

My father scoffs, and his tone is mean. “You are so full of shit. You are going back to California, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But maybe not permanently. I’d like to—”

“Do you not hear what I’m saying? Am I speaking a different language?”

I take a deep, calming breath. And I give it one more try. “I’m standing here because I care, and I want to help. I care what happens to this place.”

“Do you care enough to quit your fancy job today, move back to Colorado, and see it through?”

I hesitate for a second, because I haven’t worked this part out yet. I think it’s possible for me to still do VC work, but also spend significant time here in Penny Ridge.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” my father says with an arrogant snort. “You’re all talk.”