Page 23 of The Estate
Cal bit back a swear. Guess he’d need to get used to all these questions. She was just doing her job—the job his parents hired her to do—however that didn’t mean he liked people poking and prodding at him, looking over his shoulder, or judging his decisions.
He swallowed his annoyance and responded. “Well, I run a fine line between upgrades and profitability around here.” He was impressed that his voice sounded even and calm and not nearly as annoyed as he felt.
“Is the estate not profitable?”
“It is. And the margin has been steadily increasing.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Thank you,” he said, pleased with her acknowledgment. “Would you mind giving me the Phillips head screwdriver? The one with the blue handle.”
Rachel grabbed it and leaned down to pass it to him. “I can understand being cautious about expenses,” she continued. “But this seems a bit excessive.”
“Well,” Cal sighed. “I’ve been focusing on meeting the terms of the deal with my parents. Can you hold this?” he asked. He passed the screwdriver and a few screws out for her to hold, noticing her confusion. It appeared his parents hadn’t given Rachel all the information about the current estate business.
“When I approached my parents about creating this business, about taking over White Hall Estate, they were hesitant. They know the financial world and the securities market—not so much events and hospitality. If I were to do this, my parents required assurances ‘the asset’ would perform at a certain profitability margin.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“Could you hand me that black rubber looking tube?” He gestured toward the toolbox. Cal wasn’t sure he understood his parents’ motivation either. Well, he did, he just didn’t like it.
“My parents look at White Hall solely as an investment. If they’re going to invest their money into something, they need to see a solid rate of return. They will not pick investments that don’t make them money.
“Can you hold these too?” he said pouring a few more pieces of hardware into her outstretched hand. “So we agreed they would give me two years to get this venture up and running. I knew their financial expectations were too aggressive, given the business and the timeline,” he admitted. “But they were inflexible. So, I took the deal anyway.
“And now, my time is practically up. The business is profitable, but it’s not to the agreed upon level. Which is why my parents went looking for you,” he sighed.
“I’ll take those back now,” he indicated her handful of hardware. She was silent while he spent several minutes finishing up the repair. Turning the water back on, he watched it briefly to make sure it wasn’t leaking. It should hold, but he’d monitor it and check for any further problems.
He wiggled out from under the sink and stood up, unfortunately crowding Rachel. This wasn’t the biggest bathroom to begin with. With them both in there, it was tight quarters. He wiped his hand on a cloth, surveying the sink and floor to be sure everything was back in order. “That looks like we’re done. See? A lot cheaper and faster than calling in a professional.” His tone was sharp.
This conversation was annoying. His parents’ deal was annoying. The fact that his grandfather’s legacy was slipping through his fingertips was devastating.
“Well,” she said. “It’s also an inefficient use of time and resources.” She snapped open her notebook and wrote something. That damn notebook made him feel like he was constantly being graded like in school.
“Well,” he replied, parroting her words on purpose. “Handwritten notes are the ultimate in inefficiency.”
She squared her shoulders and gestured with her pen. “I have a laptop. But it isinefficientto drag it around with me,” she sneered. “While I’m shadowing you, it’s easier to make handwritten notes. Tonight I’ll compile these into a document that I can share with my boss Seth!”
Cal knew he should drop it, but he found himself enjoying getting her riled up. The smarter choice would be to withdraw and return to his office to discuss invoicing. But he never said he was smart. Besides, he was still hurting from her implied judgment of his plumbing and time management skills.
He leaned closer to her, and replied, “While you’re considering how to be moreefficient, you should probably wear some more farm-friendly clothing.” He gestured to her sleeve where she’d evidently brushed up against something or perhaps something he handed her was dirty. Whatever it was, she now had several streaks of dirt across her white blazer.
She attempted to brush it away, only making it worse.
“This is a hands-on job. That is, provided you are willing to learn how things are really done around here, Rachel. It’s not a normal, cushy consulting gig.”
Rachel raised her chin. “A cushy consulting gig,” she repeated, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “I don’t have cushy gigs. I work hard all the time. Besides which,” she leaned back to look him up and down. “Your outfit isn’t exactly that plumbing ready either!”
Cal eyed his tan khakis which now sported a considerable amount of dirt, as did the sleeves of his blue oxford button-down shirt. Cal couldn’t help himself. He laughed.
Rachel was startled, but a moment later joined in, and the strain between them dissipated.
“Okay,” Cal declared, throwing his hands up. “You got me there.” He grabbed the toolbox. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Except Cal didn’t feel like being back in the office again. Making a snap decision, he put the toolbox on the side table by the stairs. “I have to go check on some of the repair work being done in the chapel. Shall we head there?”
Rachel nodded. “Lead on.”
