Topaz watched the door close behind him. She stared at it for a while, desperately wanting to go after him. Instead, she headed for the phone. Punching in ten digits, she waited for the connection and smiled at the sound of the brisk, deep voice that answered.
“Hey, Daddy, it’s me. Um ... I’m gonna come home for a while, okay?”
“So you guys are sure you want to take my advice on this?” Topaz was asking her remaining colleagues the following evening when they all met at her home. She was on her way out of town, but wanted to get things squared away regarding the buyouts.
“We’re positive,” Monroe Farmer, of Farmer’s Farmer’s Market, assured her. “Your idea puts us in the position of making even more money.”
“Not to mention givin’ us leverage to put a rip in Weston Enterprises’ shorts by sellin’ to someone else,” Horace White mentioned.
“But not before we make it clear to our potential buyers that we expect certain regulations to be set in place,” Topaz warned, clasping her hands against the herringbone tweed skirt she sported. “Toxic dumping, et cetera. We gotta do everything in our power to stifle that. We don’t want an even bigger mess than the one we already have.”
Stan Webster rubbed his hands. “Looks like we’re basically goin’ with the lesser of two evils.”
Darnell Sands eased his index finger along the line of his shirt collar and cleared his throat softly. Obviously, he was quite stunned by the proposal he and his colleagues had been presented with.
“And you’re all in agreement about this?” he slowly inquired, his gray eyes shifting over the group of thirteen well-dressed men.
“We are,” Horace confirmed, clasping his hands atop the conference table. “Ms. Emerson is out of town, but we are able to speak on her behalf and this was actually her idea.”
Darnell inhaled deeply while flashing his associates a quick glance. “Mr. White, you all understand that we’ll need to discuss this. We’ll need time to go over your concerns, which are quite valid and most relevant to the community. If your schedule permits, we’d like to meet back here with you all next week.”
“So this means you’re interested?” Stan asked.
Darnell and his colleagues stood. “Oh, Mr. Webster, we are definitely interested. We’ll be in touch. Gentlemen.”
The instant Darnell Sands and his associates from Mecklen Gas and Power were out of the office, Horace reached for the phone.
“Now to put the second nail in the coffin.”
“Beaumont Harris.”
“Mr. Harris! Horace White.”
Seated behind his desk at Weston Enterprises, Beaumont Harris snapped his fingers to gain the attention of the four men in the office.
“Mr. White, it’s good to hear from you,” he said, hearing Horace chuckle on the other end.
“You may not feel that way for long.”
“Oh?”
“The deal’s off.”
Beaumont frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite under—”
“We’re not selling. Not to you.”
“Mr. White, I must say this is quite a change from our previous discussion. May I ask what made you change your mind?”
“We are going to sell, Mr. Harris.”
“But you just said—”
“A friend suggested we find out just why our property was so special. You can imagine our surprise when we discovered we were sitting on top of massive amounts of petrol.”
“Petrol,” Beaumont gasped, watching the men in the office all storm over to his desk.
“That’s right, sir. Perhaps you should’ve gone after the businesses on the other side of the street first since that’s where the gold mine is. Of course, you guys got some prime land for parking lots should you wish to—”
“This is unacceptable!” Beaumont snapped, his heart beating double time.
“No, Mr. Harris. What’s unacceptable are your tactics, and since your company has seen fit to use force to get your way in this deal, we’ve decided that this opportunity isn’t something we’d feel right offering to you. Good day.”
Beaumont gently replaced the receiver and stared at it.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Beau, please tell me that conversation wasn’t about what I think.”
Beaumont leaned back in his silver swivel and fixed his associates with a defeated look. “We won’t make another sale off that block. They’ve discovered the true value of their property.”
“Damn!”
