Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(62)
She entered the vast living area. “I’m here. Is everyone ready to listen?” She smiled brightly, too brightly, because he gave her a strange look. He opened his mouth to say something, but Elaine entered, walking a bit stiffly in what were obviously new boots.
“We’re ready, darling. We were just having a little chat while I dressed. Emm’s going to look at some of our buildings, isn’t that nice?” She linked her hand around Ross’s arm. She whispered something to him, and she was so tall he didn’t even have to bend his head to hear.
Emm pretended not to notice as she got her laptop and file. “Where do you want me to make the presentation?”
“I have equipment set up in the study,” Ross said. He pulled gently at his arm, forcing Elaine to release her grip. The woman merely sailed on her long, elegant legs into the study.
Ross hung back, offering to take Emm’s laptop, but she waved him away.
“Emm, it’s not what you think,” he began.
She wanted to whirl on him and demand what it was, then, and why had he had sex with someone who hoped to be his new girlfriend when his old girlfriend was arriving the next day, obviously intent on sharing his bed, too? True, they’d made no promises to each other, and she did initiate things. But he’d snookered her into believing he was a man of class and discrimination, even said it had been a long time since he’d made love to someone that mattered.
Obviously, I don’t matter either, Emm concluded.
But she only pretended not to hear him and forged ahead. Ms. Gottlieb might come from great wealth and power, but Emm had Rothschild blood in her veins, and for once, she’d use it to intimidate. Ross would remember her in the years ahead, as she would likely remember him.
Fondly? At this point, she didn’t give a flip either way.
The minute she entered, the buzzing conversation stopped. She felt six pairs of eyes appraise her coolly. She noted that the four men, ranging in age from late seventies to thirties, relaxed when she smiled at them. But the two very well-preserved women, perfect size sixes garbed in custom black jeans, fringed shirts, and boots, eyed her critically. Emm knew from her research into the family that they were sisters. Well into their seventies, though they looked fiftyish, and arbiters of both style and society in their East Coast domain. Ross had been a surprise baby, and perhaps for that reason both his aunt Eugenie and his mother Clara were fiercely protective of him.
Normally, they would have intimidated Emm with their regal noses all but sniffing at her, but given recent events, she was too raw to care. She’d never see these people again, so she’d do her job and get the hell out. Ross came in and closed the door. He introduced her, and she thought his father looked a lot like him. His hair was entirely silver, but his bearing was erect, and he had the same vibrant sparkle of intelligence and curiosity in his blue eyes.
The niceties out of the way, Ross nodded her toward the audiovisual array he’d hooked to a wall screen that had obviously been built for presentations like this. Emm had used such equipment before, so it only took her a second to hook up her computer with the PowerPoint presentation she’d prepared. When she was ready, she handed out the six copies of the survey she’d printed and began to review it section by section.
They were only a few pages in when Clara tossed her papers aside in irritation. “We’re not engineers; just summarize for us, please.”
Emm met the glacial blue eyes that were the exact shade of Ross’s. She said very precisely, “The conclusion of the structural engineer R—Mr. Sinclair retained is that both the Hoover and Draper buildings are structurally sound. If you’d care to have his findings reviewed, I perfectly understand. Or you can get a second opinion by another preservationist. But neither will change my recommendation to the Parks Service that both buildings be preserved, not demolished.”
“Huge surprise there,” Elaine said sotto voce.
Ross glared at her, but Emm’s eyes never wavered from Clara’s even more glacial stare. “I had a presentation planned that details the many benefits of historic preservation, the criteria for inclusion in the National Register, and the possible monetary benefits, but I’m happy to e-mail my entire presentation to R-Mr. Sinclair to disseminate among you, if that’s your preference.”
“Yes,” both Clara and Eugenie said simultaneously.
Ross said gently, “Why don’t you tell us in broad terms a layman can understand why you feel so strongly the buildings should be saved?”
His father echoed, “Yes, please.”
Emm hesitated, but she may as well go for broke. “Historic buildings are the orphans of the metropolitan environment. Quite often isolated, with no other similar buildings nearby, they usually suffer years of neglect before some enterprising soul recognizes their worth. But I would challenge you to imagine New York City without the Empire State Building or the Woolworth Building, Dallas without the Kirby, and now, Amarillo without the Draper and Hoover buildings.” Emm watched the two older women and was relieved to see even they looked thoughtful.
Pressing her advantage, Emm put it in bottom-line terms. “Fully restored, they will not only give your family a growing cash flow but will show the community that the Sinclairs care about the legacies they leave and are good stewards of the built environment. Just think of all the dump space saved by not demolishing these buildings and instead turning them into productive anchors for downtown, an example for other property owners to emulate.”