Pelican Point (Bachelors of Blueberry Cove) by Donna Kauffman Page A
Authors: Donna Kauffman
Ads: Link
been years. I know there are ways to raise the funds, and each and every one of them comes with a price. The main one being that I lose control over the property and how it’s utilized. That’s something I’m not prepared to relinquish. It’s the reason we McCraes bought the damn thing to begin with. It’s our home. It’s been our home for two hundred years.”
“You’ve asked for a place to start and I’ve handed you one.”
Logan wanted to say part of the reason he’d put off hiring out was it would begin a never-ending parade of subcontractors and workers on the property. After putting in a long day making himself personally available to every single person in the Cove, he didn’t want to face another army of people when he went home at night. He wanted time to himself. Needed it. It provided balance, a retreat, separation between his professional life and his personal one—as much as he had one anyway. He knew it was also because of those other burdens Gus had mentioned, but it wasn’t hiding. It was simply . . . finding a way to live. He’d been settled and comfortable with his life for some time.
He didn’t say any of that, suddenly realizing there had been a cost to that approach, after all.
“So maybe we start with the house, invest a bit of what we’ve got while leaving enough behind to earn us more capital over time,” Fergus suggested. “We get some manpower in there . . . and when that burden has been lifted somewhat, maybe dealing with the lighthouse won’t feel as daunting. Maybe we can tackle it in stages, or possibly find some solutions that won’t include giving up control over how it’s used. At the very least, it’s worth a discussion, isn’t it?”
“Yes, okay. But your timetable, the tricentennial—”
Fergus lifted a hand. “It was a leverage point, that’s all. I needed something—anything—to get you to pull your head out of your arse and look at the bigger picture, and not just the four walls and the roof falling down over your own head. With enough help, the house could be done inside twelve months, eighteen tops. Perhaps our gift to the town wouldn’t be a fully restored, operational tower, but the promise that the work has begun on it. We can consider it our gift to the Cove. And to our own legacy.”
“I’ll . . . think on it.”
Fergus pushed to a stand. “Why don’t you think on it down at the pub, say, seven o’clock?”
Logan’s gaze narrowed, and he realized he’d just been played by the master. “What’s happening at seven o’clock? I’m not facing some kind of impromptu town meeting, Fergus. I’ll discuss this with you, and I’ll work on it in my own time, but I’m not bringing in the town to pass judgment on what will or won’t be done, or give them so much as a single vote in this. It’s not their legacy, or their burden. It’s ours. And that burden is heavy enough without putting me at their mercy along with it. Your idea to present the restoration to the town as our personal gift is fine. After the fact.”
“Are ye quite done with yer bluster, Mr. Blowhard?”
Scowling, Logan restacked the folders on his desk, then finally pressed his hands against his thighs. How could family feel so . . . restorative, so bolstering one moment, and so incredibly infuriating the next? “I’m done for the next thirty seconds. Or as long as it takes for you to tell me what you’ve done now.”
“Ye need to trust me, lad. We need help organizing this operation, and we happen to have someone in town who can help us with that very thing.”
Logan lifted his gaze, brows narrowing. “I thought you said she stopped by on her way out of town. Alex MacFarland isn’t the solution. She’s gone. But I understand and agree it was the right idea. In general. We’ll have to look elsewhere for—”
“She did stop by, yes. And she was heading out, aye, mostly thanks to your complete lack of insight and imagination.” Fergus slapped broad palms to
“You’ve asked for a place to start and I’ve handed you one.”
Logan wanted to say part of the reason he’d put off hiring out was it would begin a never-ending parade of subcontractors and workers on the property. After putting in a long day making himself personally available to every single person in the Cove, he didn’t want to face another army of people when he went home at night. He wanted time to himself. Needed it. It provided balance, a retreat, separation between his professional life and his personal one—as much as he had one anyway. He knew it was also because of those other burdens Gus had mentioned, but it wasn’t hiding. It was simply . . . finding a way to live. He’d been settled and comfortable with his life for some time.
He didn’t say any of that, suddenly realizing there had been a cost to that approach, after all.
“So maybe we start with the house, invest a bit of what we’ve got while leaving enough behind to earn us more capital over time,” Fergus suggested. “We get some manpower in there . . . and when that burden has been lifted somewhat, maybe dealing with the lighthouse won’t feel as daunting. Maybe we can tackle it in stages, or possibly find some solutions that won’t include giving up control over how it’s used. At the very least, it’s worth a discussion, isn’t it?”
“Yes, okay. But your timetable, the tricentennial—”
Fergus lifted a hand. “It was a leverage point, that’s all. I needed something—anything—to get you to pull your head out of your arse and look at the bigger picture, and not just the four walls and the roof falling down over your own head. With enough help, the house could be done inside twelve months, eighteen tops. Perhaps our gift to the town wouldn’t be a fully restored, operational tower, but the promise that the work has begun on it. We can consider it our gift to the Cove. And to our own legacy.”
“I’ll . . . think on it.”
Fergus pushed to a stand. “Why don’t you think on it down at the pub, say, seven o’clock?”
Logan’s gaze narrowed, and he realized he’d just been played by the master. “What’s happening at seven o’clock? I’m not facing some kind of impromptu town meeting, Fergus. I’ll discuss this with you, and I’ll work on it in my own time, but I’m not bringing in the town to pass judgment on what will or won’t be done, or give them so much as a single vote in this. It’s not their legacy, or their burden. It’s ours. And that burden is heavy enough without putting me at their mercy along with it. Your idea to present the restoration to the town as our personal gift is fine. After the fact.”
“Are ye quite done with yer bluster, Mr. Blowhard?”
Scowling, Logan restacked the folders on his desk, then finally pressed his hands against his thighs. How could family feel so . . . restorative, so bolstering one moment, and so incredibly infuriating the next? “I’m done for the next thirty seconds. Or as long as it takes for you to tell me what you’ve done now.”
“Ye need to trust me, lad. We need help organizing this operation, and we happen to have someone in town who can help us with that very thing.”
Logan lifted his gaze, brows narrowing. “I thought you said she stopped by on her way out of town. Alex MacFarland isn’t the solution. She’s gone. But I understand and agree it was the right idea. In general. We’ll have to look elsewhere for—”
“She did stop by, yes. And she was heading out, aye, mostly thanks to your complete lack of insight and imagination.” Fergus slapped broad palms to
Similar Books
