Chapter 10 - The Price of a Dream

The next morning, I met Grant Weller at a diner across from the courthouse. I picked the booth nearest the front door. Jonah waited in his car, and I texted Dad the address. I didn't expect Grant to hurt me. I expected him to smile while telling me I had no options.

He ordered black coffee and watched me over the rim.

"I assume you want to discuss the wedding," he said.

"I want to discuss the company you're hiding behind Marlowe Holdings."

He didn't even blink. "Investment entities are perfectly legal."

"So is refusing to sell. My mother refused."

"Your father explored an offer. The family needed capital."

"That doesn't give you Mom's signature."

Grant slid a page across the table. On it was Dad's signature beneath a confidentiality agreement and the outline of a proposed sale. It was dated six months earlier.

"Arthur understood the opportunity," Grant said. "Your plan for a training center is sweet. It doesn't pay property taxes."

"We already have a grant commitment."

"Conditional. And your nonprofit's short on money. Harper knows that. She told me how many nights you lose sleep over it."

She'd held me through those sleepless nights and taken notes.

"Did you order her to push my mother?"

"I don't tell adults how to behave."

"You gave her a key at the venue. We have the video."

His spoon stopped halfway to the cup. He placed it down carefully. "Be careful what you accuse people of."

"Be careful what you ask them to sign."

His smile disappeared. "If this project collapses, workers lose jobs and your city loses an employer. Do you really want to be the son who brought all that down because his fiancée lost her temper?"

I stood up. "It's an old foundry, Grant. We can fix the building. What you can't fix is thinking people belong to you."

I had nearly reached the door when he spoke again.

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"Nathan. Before you call the police, you should know your father accepted a deposit. If the sale doesn't close Monday, Alder Ridge will demand it back. Plus damages."

Then he named the amount, and I understood why Dad had been afraid to show us the books: two million dollars.