A Lot Like Christmas

But no way would he stay.

Chase gathered investors, did deals and moved on. He needed challenge, variety, new horizons. A mall manager was a glorified landlord. Frankly it puzzled him why anyone as smart and talented as Sylvie would settle for something so small.

“I’ll do a complete analysis, Fletcher. As I told you.”

“Wait until you talk to the broker. Now is the time to sell. I’m talking a bidding war here. You’ll see.”

“He could be blowing smoke to get our business.”

“We split the proceeds three ways, remember,” Fletcher pressed. “Don’t tell me that after Nevada you don’t need the cash.”

The jab hit home and Chase flinched. “I don’t need the mall proceeds to survive.” Though the failure of Home at Last in Las Vegas had hit him hard in more ways than financial.

“I realize that,” Fletcher said, softening his tone. “How’s it going for you here? You’re out in the far west valley?”

“Yeah. There are the usual hassles, but Chet’s managing the day-to-day operation. I’m getting investors.” The pieces had come together quickly, considering all the McCann Development connections.

“You trust him? After what he pulled?”

“He didn’t pull anything. We were both swindled.” Chet had accepted the builder’s word on permits and clearances and Chase had let it slide. The builder skipped town with half their capital and they lost the rest when inspectors forced them to raze what had already been built. They’d trusted good intentions, when they’d needed hard proof. Chase had learned his lesson—never let his heart override his business sense. This time they were crossing all t’s, dotting all i’s.

“The lawsuit’s been called off?”

“Yes.” Only Chase’s negotiations skills and firm commitment to repay them had kept the furious investors from filing suit. He and Chet would have won—there were no guarantees in this business—but it would have been a waste of time and money for everyone involved.

“Good, because the last thing we need is legal bills.” Fletcher looked suddenly bone-weary.

“What’s up with you?” Chase leaned forward. “The truth now.”

“Nothing.” Fletcher blew out a breath. “I’m leveraged is all. We’ll be okay.” He searched Chase’s face as if deciding whether or not to confide in him. “See, I bought into an assemblage in Chandler right before the bubble burst—without getting the General involved. I’ve been scrambling to make up for it, but so far no luck.”

“I know a limited partnership looking for property near high-tech plants.”

“Not the guys who want to sue you, I hope.”

“Hey, play nice. No. Different group. I pitched Home At Last to them, but it’s too slow-growth. I might talk your property up…that is, if it’s not too bone-headed.”

Fletch smirked at the return jab. “You’ve got enough on your plate already. I’ll work it out.” He sounded more discouraged than Chase had ever heard him.

“Let me help. This is what family does.”

Fletcher tapped his pen against his blotter. “Okay. Yeah, I’d appreciate you putting in a word. The General takes it better if I have a solution when I break a problem to him.”

“Hell, you’re partners. Equals. Don’t let him second-guess you.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t deal with him every day.” Unlike Chase, Fletcher had stayed on to fight the losing battle for their father’s approval.

“If you hate it, leave. You don’t have to stay with the company to prove you love the guy. Even if that’s what he expects.”

They locked gazes again, the old resentment hanging like stale smoke between them. Chase took off. Fletcher stayed. Fletcher believed Chase got more slack with the General because he was first born.

The bitter truth was that no one got slack from Marshall McCann.

Fletch broke the gaze-lock first. “I don’t hate it. I run most of the operation.”

“He could bring someone else on board, if you wanted to do something on your own.”

“He’d never trust anyone outside the family. We have enough trouble with him second-guessing our contractors. I’m not going anywhere. I have no secret unfulfilled dreams.” Like you.

Chase chalked the sarcasm up to his brother’s financial worries. “I’ll help where I can. I’m here now.”

“Yeah, you are.” Fletcher managed a faint smile. “You being around has cheered him up, at least.”

“Not so I’ve noticed.”

“That’s the General. He can’t let on he’s pleased to the one who pleased him. You know that.”

They both shrugged, regarding each other with the familiar sense of being comrades-in-arms against their difficult father.

“If it helps, tell him the Chandler buy was my idea,” Chase said with a half smile. “He’d be pleased to have another example of my poor judgment. He hasn’t let up about Nevada once. He somehow thinks that screwup will finally scare me back home.”

“Will it?”

“No way. As soon as this is over, there’s a limited partnership investment deal in Portland they want me in on.”

“Yeah?”

“Meanwhile, I’ve got Sylvie to handle. She’s hurt and angry and I need her cooperation to do this right.” Far from being relieved to have Chase’s help, she seemed to doubt his competence based on those bad months three years ago.

“You’ll work it out, I’m sure. Frankly it wouldn’t hurt her to move on. Mary Beth says she lives and breathes the mall. She needs a personal life.” Fletch shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable that he’d said all that about Sylvie. He’d obviously been doing some thinking about her.

“Like you should talk. All you do is work, Fletcher. You’re just like Dad before Mom humanized him.”

Fletcher shrugged off his words, so Chase poked at him some more. “The Seattle guy’s out of the picture with Sylvie now. Maybe you should ask her out.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Fletcher’s brows shot up. He looked like someone had splashed his face with cold water.

“You do still have a thing for her.”

“Are you nuts? That was years ago…almost a decade.” But Fletcher was getting redder by the second.

“Did you even ask her out back then?”

“Once, yeah. She wasn’t into it.” He looked down at his desk.

“Things change. Feelings change.”

“Not Sylvie’s. Not about that.”