Chapter Ten
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hunter gripped his cell phone and sat down hard in the corner chair of his rented room. A frilly nightmare of a pillow jabbed into his lower back and he tossed it onto the floor. “Sam Norton is the owner of the entire waterfront?”
“That’s right. All of it,” Jim Creese said in his usual clipped tones. The New York native always sounded like he was in a hurry to get things done, which made sense considering he was the best commercial real estate broker Hunter had ever met.
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? Sam, the old guy who’s on the commerce committee? It just doesn’t make sense.” The few conversations Hunter had with Sam revolved around town gossip, island traditions, and the best places to get a good drink. The man had to be in his eighties. He had never expressed any interest in property investments, let alone mentioned the fact that he owned all the real estate on the wharf.
Jim’s laugh was as cold and sharp as the steel beams in Hunter’s high-rise penthouse. “Well, we did have to dig pretty deep on this one. Turns out the waterfront is one big lot, and the property hasn’t changed hands for several decades. The county clerks had to go into the paper archives for the title, if you can believe it. He’s not using a corporate entity or anything, so my guess is that he inherited it.”
Hunter mulled this over. It made sense, because Sam didn’t strike him as a real estate tycoon. Take the way he dressed, for example. Faded pants and shirts so old, they belonged in a museum. And then there was Sam’s car. The Datsun pickup looked about the same age as its owner. But it wasn’t just the way Sam looked that made this news so surprising. It was his personality.
Hunter had met many investors in the past few years since he made a fortune with his e-commerce website. He and his college roommate, the founder of the company, had developed an online retailing business that eventually got bought out after it went public. Those investors had a different vision for the company, and Hunter finally sold off his interest and moved on to other projects.
After several years, Hunter was now the owner of three upscale, successful restaurants in Seattle. One of them was on the waterfront, just steps from the famous Pike Place Market. He’d had a lot of experience dealing with investors, and all of them had a calculating, aggressive quality to their personality that Sam Norton lacked. They were like circling sharks, always searching for the next big bite. Hunter knew this because he swam in their circles. Staying sharp, staying hungry—that’s how you made it in the world. Sam just didn’t fit the mold. But then again, no one on Pine Cove Island was typical.
“Listen,” Jim said. “You already bought the other plat on the wharf there, and that’s no secret. If this guy knows you want his properties, too, he’s going to try to manipulate you.”
Hunter could hear Jim clicking his pen, the way he always did when his gears were turning. It was hard to imagine Sam Norton being manipulative, but appearances could be deceiving. If years of working with cutthroat investors hadn’t proved that to Hunter, then his ex-girlfriend, Melinda, had sure brought it home.
Hunter stood and began pacing the small room. He refused to think about his ex’s betrayal. After what had happened between them, taking a break from Seattle was the best way to rid himself of the bitter regret so he could just move on. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.
“If you really are interested in this place, I think it would be best if we extended Mr. Norton an offer from an ‘undisclosed investor,’” Jim said.
Hunter rubbed his face with one hand and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was four-thirty in the morning, but Jim had called from the East Coast, three hours ahead. Hunter considered talking to Sam face-to-face. Sam the drinker. Sam the octogenarian. Surely, he’d be reasonable? But then, we were also talking about Sam the real estate mogul who owned half the business property in town. There was a lot more to this guy than Hunter had realized. Jim was probably right.
“Yes,” Hunter said. “Extend him the offer and we’ll go from there.”
“Okay, good,” Jim confirmed. “I’ll have Trisha get ahold of him later today. One other thing. I’m pretty sure you’re aware of your capital situation. . . .” Jim was alluding to the fact that Hunter didn’t actually have enough to buy the entire waterfront at anywhere near fair-market value. “You’ll need to sell some property.”
“The Hornstein brothers still interested?” Hunter asked. They had extended an impressive offer to buy his two larger restaurants a few months ago. At the time, Hunter had been reluctant to cash out and walk away. Now things were different. He not only wanted to expand onto the islands, he also needed the change of scenery. Maybe throwing most of his capital into this new project was his best opportunity.
“I just spoke to them this morning before I called you. Their offer still stands.”
Hunter considered the step he was about to take. Pine Cove Island had been on his radar for a couple of years now. He could see the potential in the sleepy island town, especially with all the tourist traffic from both the Seattle area and British Columbia. Initially, he had only planned to open Haven on the wharf, but after researching the property, he wanted all of it. The waterfront was run-down and needed work, yes. But so much could be done to make it thrive. He had a gut feeling about the place. It would be a huge risk, but one he was willing to take. The timing was perfect, and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into a new project and watch it succeed. This was what he knew. This was what he was best at.
“Tell them I’ll consider their offer,” Hunter said. “Let’s hear what Sam Norton has to say first.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Hunter, listen. I think you may be onto something huge here. But understand, if this plays out, you’ll be all-in on this little backwater town of yours. You know what I’m saying? The only property you’ll have left in Seattle might be the bistro and your penthouse.”
“I know,” Hunter said. “I’ll make it work. Thanks, Jim.”
After he hung up the phone, Hunter felt a rush of adrenaline over what was to come. Once Sam Norton accepted his offer, the game was on. He could see the waterfront in his mind’s eye. A resort and a retreat for the harried crowds from the city. It would be a combination of the comforts of home and an escape from the fast-paced lifestyle on the mainland. The whole idea invigorated him and gave him a sense of exhilarating purpose that he hadn’t felt in too many years to count. He would make it more profitable than any of his past investments had ever been, and at the end of the day, it was all about profit, wasn’t it? Money talked. It was a language he knew well. Everything else was just noise.
He walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. It was still dark outside, but he was wide awake now. At this hour of the morning, there wasn’t much else he could do yet, but there was one thing.
He could run. Running always helped him clear his head and focus. In Seattle, he had a treadmill in his penthouse so he could run any time of the day or night without being subjected to the rain. Here, he had to make do with what was available. He stretched to ease the tension in his neck and reached for a T-shirt.