Chapter 224

He’d always acted confident; he had quite the reputation for being an egotistical maniac even before he had the skills and achievements to back it up.

The BMW’s engine ticked slowly. The car’s interior heated; without the motor turning, the air conditioning was not keeping up with the early June heat. He gathered up the paperwork, running his fingers over the pages a few times.

He’d almost asked Mark to come with him—he was, in fact, truly desperate for some support—but Mark had a bad habit of taking nothing seriously.

Simon got out of his car. He didn’t want to be sweating too hard when he spoke with Stahl. That wouldn’t look good at all. He glanced up at the restaurant with a faint smile. The building had been undergoing a lot of slow, careful renovation over the past two years. The place looked reputable these days. But surely Stahl did not want this burden.

He took a few deep breaths and went inside.

He’d never actually been inside before; Dockside was more than ten miles from his home and there were burger places quite a bit closer if he wanted one. Usually he didn’t. A red-headed woman came up to him.

“Table for one, sugar?”

“No, thank you,” Simon said. “I was wondering if I might have a word with Mr. Stahl.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll ask.” She bounced off, a little more wiggle in her walk than Simon thought was strictly necessary. He didn’t bother to watch for very long. The wall of pictures on the far end of the dining room captured his attention and he found himself looking for a familiar face among the clippings and articles and—there she was.

Simon traced his fingers over the picture of Mace Stahl, standing with her mother at her college graduation. She’d gone on to become a registered nurse.

“Mr. Johannson,” Stahl said quietly from behind him. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here. I know you remember my husband, Andy.”

“Of course,” Simon said. He gave Howard a quick nod. “Probably best to speak with both of you at once, really. If there’s…” The restaurant wasn’t terribly crowded, but there were a few customers scattered around the room. “Somewhere private, perhaps. I need a word with you on a personal matter.”

Howard’s eyebrows went up, as well they might. They had long since concluded the business transactions for their use of the Seaglass Resort for their wedding, and they would not be aware of his new business. “The office be okay?”

“Certainly,” Simon said. “This should not take terribly much of your time.”

Stahl’s office had that new paint smell and much of the furniture appeared to have been recently acquired. Sitting behind the desk was the girl, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she rather diligently applied herself to coloring in a worksheet. From his position, Simon thought it was one of those color-by-numbers sheets. “Well, hello there,” he said.

“This is our niece, Billie,” Howard said. “Billie, say hello to Mr. Johannson. He’s Mr. Mark’s brother.”

The girl looked up, those green eyes searching his face, slightly magnified by the glasses perched on her nose. “Hi! Is Mark with you? I like Mark.”

Simon sighed inwardly. Of course she did. Everyone liked Mark. “Alas, he could not accompany me today,” he said. “It is my very great pleasure to meet you, Miss Stahl. I feel I have been waiting quite some time for the honor.”

“Ooookay,” Howard said under his breath. “We need to talk grownup talk, buttercup. Go see if Jason’s got your dinner ready to go yet, okay? You can eat on the porch.”

Billie glared at everyone. “How old do I gotta be b’fore you c’n talk about me in front ofme?”

Oh, my, my, my. Simon stuck his tongue out to wet his upper lip before giving the child a rather toothy smile. “Aren’t you the clever girl? I dare say it will be some years yet, but as soon as you are allowed access to the secrets of adulthood, you’ll find they hold little pleasure. Run along, princess. We’ll talk later.”

Billie grumbled, but put her worksheet in a drawer that had apparently been set aside for her use—though Simon certainly would not have put it past Stahl to complete his forms in crayon—and obediently skipped out into the kitchen.

“This must be quite the adjustment for you both,” Simon said. “Or, indeed, all three of you.”

“Can we skip the fancy speech and you tell me what you want, Johannson?” Stahl shoved a hand through his hair, slicking it away from his face.