“We’ll restructure the mortgages, maybe use the Martha’s Vineyard property as extra collateral.”
“You know that won’t work.”
Emma didn’t answer, because Katie was right. Equity in the Martha’s Vineyards property wouldn’t make a dent in the amount their father owed.
Things had been tough for McKinley the past few years. Bookings were down, costs up. Their father was always reluctant to let staff go. And they were locked into major renovations on three ski resort properties, while snow conditions had remained poor two winters in a row.
They were over a barrel, and Alex Garrison knew it. The man might be amoral, but he wasn’t stupid.
“I’m going to have to marry him,” said Katie, raising her palms in a gesture of defeat.
“And what about David?”
“I’ll explain it to him somehow.”
Emma took a drink from her martini glass, mimicking her sister’s voice. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But I’m going to have to marry another man for his money.”
“I won’t say it like that.”
“There’s no way to say it and make it sound good.”
“Well, are you going to marry him?”
Emma didn’t answer as the waitress set salads in front of them.
“At least I don’t have a boyfriend,” she hissed, after the waitress left.
Katie straightened, looking tragically hopeful. “Is that a yes?”
“No, it’s not a yes.” Then Emma paused, desperately trying to gather her thoughts. “We can’t…” She clenched her jaw. “It’s not right…It galls me to even think about giving in to that man.”
“At least we’d keep half the company.”
Fair point. Emma took another sip of her drink. If Alex got the bank to call in the loan instead, they’d be lucky to keep one hotel.
If only they had more time. If only they knew someone who could underwrite them quickly and extensively. If only their father’s heart hadn’t given out.
The three of them were a team. They’d weathered storms before, and she was sure they could have found a way out of this maze.
“Emma?” Katie prompted.
Emma picked up her fork and stabbed into the shrimp salad. “We’ll need to talk to Legal.”
Katie’s blue eyes dimmed in the lamplight. “To declare bankruptcy.”
Emma drew a bracing breath. No. They weren’t declaring bankruptcy. Not when they had a slightly more palatable choice.
They were going to throw their lot in with Alex Garrison. If they didn’t, they’d be out on the street, and he’d be undermining their father’s life’s work by this time tomorrow.
At least with Alex there was a chance. If they had a few good years, maybe they could buy him out.
And it wasn’t like Emma had a boyfriend waiting anywhere in the wings. Nor was she likely to have one in the foreseeable future. Plain-looking, plainspoken hotel executives who traveled half the year weren’t exactly hot prospects on dating dot com.
Truth was, a marriage on paper wouldn’t be that big of an inconvenience for her. A justice of the peace, a couple of publicity snapshots, and they’d barely have to see each other again.
She looked Katie straight in the eyes, not giving herself time to rethink the decision. “We have to talk to Legal so we can make sure Alex can’t do something crazy with our inns.”
Katie’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to do it?”
Emma dropped her fork and drained her glass. “I’m going to do it.”
Two
Mrs. Nash had been calling Alex Alex his entire life. But since he’d moved out of his penthouse and back into the family’s Long Island mansion six months ago-another of Ryan’s brilliant plans to improve his image-she’d taken to calling him Mr. Garrison. Every time she did it, Alex glanced around for his father.
The old man might have been dead for three years, but he still had the power to make Alex jump. It was bad enough that Alex had taken over his father’s study, he didn’t need to take on his name as well.
“Call me Alex,” he grumbled, glancing up from the financial section.
Mrs. Nash squared her shoulders in the doorway. “Mr. Garrison.” Her faint British accent grew more pronounced when she was annoyed. “A Ms. McKinley has arrived to see you.”
Alex flipped his newspaper down at the fold, his senses coming on alert. “Which one?”
Mrs. Nash’s formidable brow went up. “Ms. Emma McKinley, sir.”
“Okay, now you’re just trying annoy me.”
“Sir?” There was an undeniable twinkle behind her blue-gray eyes.
“It’s Alex. Alex. You changed my diapers and smacked my butt.”
She sniffed. “And I dare say, it didn’t help much, did it now?”
Alex set the newspaper on his spotless, mahogany desktop and stood from the tufted leather wing chair. “Can we at least dispense with the sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Garrison.”
He drew closer to her as he headed for the door. “You’re fired.”
Her expression remained impassive. “I think not.”
“Because you know where the bodies are buried?”
“Because you’ve never memorized the combination to the wine cellar.”
He paused. “Excellent point.”
“Very good then…sir.”
“Insubordinate,” he muttered as he passed her.
“Will Ms. McKinley be staying to lunch?”
Good question. Was Emma going to say yes and make both their lives easier? Or was she going to stay up there on her high horse and cause him no end of trouble? Alex gave it a fifty-fifty chance.
He drew a bracing breath. “I have no idea.”
Mrs. Nash nodded and carried on into the study, where she’d straighten the newspaper and erase any lingering trace of his presence. It was eerie, living in a house that forgot about you every time you left the room. Sometimes he’d leave subtle traces, a book out of place on a bookshelf, a sculpture slightly to the left on the mantel. But he hadn’t tripped her up yet.
He headed down the hallway under the watchful eyes of his ancestors. The portraits were newly dusted and plum-line straight. His father was last, looking dour and judgmental, probably wishing he could grill Alex on the bottom line. Alex imagined that’s what his father hated most about being dead-standing by silently while Alex ran amok with the family business.
He rounded the corner to see his latest business problem standing in the sky-lit rotunda foyer, clutching a patterned handbag against an ivory, tailored coatdress. Her shoulder-length, chestnut hair was tucked behind her ears and pulled sleek by a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head. Her lashes were dark against coffee-toned eyes, her lips were shaded a lustrous pink, and diamond studs twinkled against her earlobes. She was immaculately made-up and clearly nervous.
That could be a good sign, or it could be a bad sign.
“Emma.” Alex held out his hand, deciding to pretend they hadn’t parted on sarcastic terms.
“Alex,” she nodded with a brief, brusque shake.
“Would you care to come in?” he asked, gesturing toward the hallway.
She peered suspiciously down the wide corridor.
“To my study,” he elaborated. “We might be more comfortable there.”
After a second’s hesitation, Emma nodded. “All right. Thanks.”
“Not a problem.” He waited until she was beside him, then fell into step.
“How was traffic?” he asked, instantly regretting the impulse to make small talk. He wasn’t nervous. He was cool as a cucumber when it came to business deals. And this one was no different than any other.
If she said no, she said no. He’d either change her mind or come up with plan B. Ryan was making way too much of this wedding thing, anyway. Alex’s future didn’t depend on Ms. McKinley’s whims.