Page 23 of Stolen Harmony
“Property sales and zoning changes that make certain people very wealthy and leave others displaced.” Tom's eyes found mine. “You ever think about what you'd do if someone made you an offer you couldn't refuse?”
“Victor doesn't make offers. He makes ultimatums.”
“That's what I figured.” Tom signaled the waitress for more coffee. “Man's been circling this town like a shark for years, waiting for people to get desperate enough to take his money.”
The fresh coffee arrived, and I watched steam rise from the surface. “He's my brother.”
“He's also an asshole.” Tom's voice was matter-of-fact,without heat. “Those two things aren't mutually exclusive. Just because you share blood doesn't mean you have to share his values.”
“Sometimes I wonder if we even share blood. We're so different it's like we were raised by different people.”
“You were, in a way. You had your mother's influence longer than he did. She died when Victor was what, fourteen? That's old enough to remember her but young enough to let Kepler's pragmatism fill the gaps.”
I'd never thought about it that way. Victor had been shaped by loss in different ways than I had, hardened by it rather than softened.
“Your mother would have liked that young man,” Tom said, apparently following his own train of thought. “She had a soft spot for musicians. Used to say they saw the world differently, that they could find beauty in broken things.”
“Yeah, she did.”
“She also would have told you to trust your instincts. About Victor, about the boy, about whatever it is you're wrestling with.” Tom leaned forward slightly. “You've got good instincts, Eli. Better than you give yourself credit for.”
The words settled in my chest, warm and unexpected. Tom wasn't given to unnecessary reassurance, which made his approval feel genuine, earned.
“Victor's been asking questions about your studio,” Tom said, his tone carefully neutral. “About the property, the lease terms, whether you'd ever consider selling.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Questions that suggest he's got plans for that space. Plans that don't include music production.” Tom's weathered hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “Might be worth thinking about your options before he decides to make his move official.”
The implications hit me slowly, like dominoesfalling. Victor wasn't just circling Harbor's End in general. He was circling me specifically, my business, the life I'd built from the ashes of everything I'd lost.
“I'm not selling to him.”
“Didn't think you would. But it's good to know where you stand before the ground starts shifting under your feet.” Tom smiled, the expression both reassuring and slightly predatory. “Besides, there are ways to make sure he doesn't get what he wants. Ways that don't involve you giving up anything important.”
“Such as?”
“Such as remembering that you've got friends in this town. People who care about what happens to you, who don't want to see Victor turn Harbor's End into his personal kingdom.” Tom's eyes held mine. “People who might be willing to help if you asked.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
“Do that.” Tom signaled for the check. “And remember what I said about trusting your instincts. They've kept you alive this long.”
We sat in comfortable silence while the waitress processed payment, the morning crowd beginning to thin as people headed off to their jobs and obligations. Harbor's End was settling into its daily rhythm, but underneath the normalcy, I could feel the currents shifting.
Victor was making his move. The question was whether I was ready to make mine.
“You know what your problem is?” Tom said as we prepared to leave.
“I'm sure you're going to tell me.”
“You think you have to handle everything alone. Always have, even as a kid. Your mother used to worry about that, the way you'd disappear into yourself when things got tough.”
“Some things are easier to handle alone.”
“And some things aren't.” Tom stood, stretching slightly. “That young man who kept you up last night? He's probably the same way. Probably spent years convincing himself he was better off not needing anyone.”
The observation hit closer to home than I wanted to admit.
