Speakeasy (True North #5)(76)

When I walk downstairs, there are voices in the dining room. I poke my head in and find May at the coffee urn, pouring a cup one-handed. “This was for you!” she says, giving me a brilliant smile.

The conversation stops. Griffin’s face goes from shock to disgust at a rapid rate. Audrey just smiles. And Daphne snickers.

“Good morning, Alec,” Ruth Shipley says calmly. As if appearing in her dining room at breakfast time is a normal thing to do. “Please make yourself a plate in the kitchen. May would do it for you but it’s easier two-handed.”

“Here, follow me,” May says, setting the coffee down. She steers me into the kitchen with her good hand. Once we’re in the other room, she stops and presses her face against my chest.

When I wrap my arms around her, she’s laughing quietly. “Did you see Griffin’s face?” I whisper in her ear.

She giggles into my neck. “I was going to bring you some coffee upstairs and warn you that he and Audrey were here to run payroll with Mom.”

I gather her hair in one hand and smooth it down her back. “I don’t intimidate easily.”

“I know.” She lifts her face and smiles at me. “Let’s find the waffles.”

I make up two plates, each with eggs, sausage, and waffles. The Shipleys believe in eating a good breakfast. At least if Griffin pulls out that shotgun he keeps to scare off coyotes, I’ll be well fed before I die.

“Morning, son,” Grandpa Shipley says as I set our plates down on the table. “Don’t remember seeing you at dinner last night.”

“No sir,” I say, taking a healthy sip of coffee. “I was working then and came over later.”

“Like a thief in the night!” he says with glee.

“Grandpa.” May sighs.

I take a bite of wonderful food. “The sausage is terrific. Do you guys make it yourselves?”

“We sure do,” Daphne says. “Apparently May likes sausage as well.” Then she cracks up.

It’s really a struggle, but I manage not to crack a smile.

“Come over anytime,” Ruth says, while Griffin scowls.

“Now what is this real estate question you had for me?” May asks. She’s trying to cut her sausage one-handed with the side of her fork.

“The real estate thing is a long shot,” I say, relieving her of the fork. I pull her plate a little closer to me and use a knife to cut the sausage into bite-sized pieces for her. “Before he died, Hamish and I had an agreement for me to purchase his building. But Tad probably won’t want to honor it.”

Griffin’s coffee cup stops halfway to his mouth. “Seriously? You two had a deal?”

“Yeah,” I say after chewing another bite of my food. “And their lawyer called me last night while I was tending bar. His voicemail didn’t say why. I need a strategy, but I don’t have a signed contract in the traditional sense. So I’m wondering if I even have a leg to stand on.”

“What were you going to pay for the place?” Griffin asks.

“Alec, don’t answer that!” May yelps. “Your lawyer doesn’t want you to reveal the terms of the sale to competing parties.”

Griffin’s eyes bulge. “You’re not his lawyer. You’re my lawyer. And we’re family. Did you forget that?”

“Breakfast isn’t usually this interesting,” Grandpa says. “Daphne, honey, I’ll have that second cup of coffee after all. Can’t leave when it’s gettin’ good.”

May shakes her head at Griffin. “I’m not representing you in the acquisition of the Giltmaker tasting room. Lyle uses someone else. And if you think I won’t help Alec discover whether Hamish’s death screws him out of a purchase, think again.”

Griffin sets his mug down. “Let’s start over. If Alec has a right to the property, I just want to know. I won’t help Lyle steamroll a dead man’s wishes.” Griffin eyes me. “If it’s yours, it’s yours. Lyle will have to look elsewhere.”

I have to say, those words surprise me. And Griffin sounds sincere enough. He’s known for being Mr. Community. He’s the chairman of the farmers’ market association. He hires local kids at a fair wage. He takes food stamps as payment for produce in season.

Yet his dad fired my dad, who I never saw again. He’s arrogant and smug, and I don’t like him all that much. Not yet, anyway.

The truth is I don’t want to be Griffin Shipley’s enemy. Not if I’m going to spend my life with his sister. And that’s really all that matters, so this is an easy decision. “I agreed to pay two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars for the mill property.”

“All right,” he says quietly. “Tad offered it to Lyle for three hundred. But Lyle didn’t counter yet. Better put Tad on notice if you’re going to pursue this.”

I cut a bite of waffle and try to think what to do. I don’t have two hundred and twenty-five grand, or a solvent business plan. But I really don’t want Lyle as a neighbor.

“What did you want the mill for, anyway?” Griffin asks.

“A brewpub or a restaurant. But I thought I had time to find just the right plan. Mostly, I wanted to have a little control over what goes in right next door.”

“You did tell me that you wanted to make beer,” Griffin muses.