Chapter 26
Bill Diamond pulled up to the building on El Valle and cut the engine. Char knew he was waiting for her cue, yet she could only sit there zombielike and gaze at it through the windshield while inside her head, her thoughts were spinning at a hundred miles an hour.
“So.” Bill sniffed and put his hand on the door handle. “You sure about this?”
She turned deadly serious eyes on him. “Let’s do it.”
The real question was, how? She’d only won the female division of the half. Stephen Fuller, the male winner, could still beat her out of the fifty thou, once they juggled their handicaps. If that happened, the only way Char could honor a signed sales contract on this building was if she won the whole shebang. The whole million dollars.
Just how likely was that? She had no freaking clue. Nobody was allowed to talk about how much they’d raised in donations. She knew how much she’d raised to the penny, but she had nothing to compare it to. She’d tried to make a guesstimate, based on past McDaniel Foundation figures that were now public. But the amounts raised varied so much from team to team, year to year, they were practically useless. Throw in the nationwide economic conditions, and who knew how much this year’s competition would bring in?
She took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. The very possibility that she, Chardonnay St. Pierre, could actually be hours away from funding her very own foundation was almost too heady to consider. And yet, here she was, taking a gamble on exactly that. Because as far as she knew, Ryder had just as great a chance of winning as she did. And she wasn’t going to risk his making a deal tomorrow morning, even if it was a Sunday.
“C’mon,” said Bill, opening his car door, putting one foot on the pavement. “Let’s take one more spin around the building.”
“No,” said Char with a stilling hand on his arm.
Slowly he climbed back in.
“Do you have the paperwork?”
Savvy had explained the process to Char earlier. All she needed today was a good-faith deposit—which she would lose, of course, if she reneged on the contract. She and Bill had just come from the bank, where Char had emptied her personal savings account and had a cashier’s check drawn up.
“Got it right here,” said Bill, reaching between the seats for his briefcase in the back.
“Some things are still done the old-fashioned way—on paper, with a gazillion copies.”
He walked her through the contracts page by page, being careful to make sure she understood the considerable financial obligation she was about to commit to, but Char only heard every other word. She’d been through the basics already with Savvy.
“How can I make an offer before I know if I’ve won?” she’d asked her almost-lawyer sister. “Everyone will know the contest isn’t over yet and I don’t have the money.”
“And everyone will also know that you’re the daughter of Xavier St. Pierre. Believe me, you’re not a very big risk,” she’d said.
“Meaning, they think Papa will make the mortgage payments if I can’t?”
Savvy just smiled tightly in ascension. “Of course. Now, I know that’s not the plan. You’re asking me about the legal aspect, and I’m telling you.”
“That’s that,” Bill was saying when they got to the final page. He handed her his pen. “Sign here.”
Without giving it any more thought, Char scribbled her name on the dotted line.
“And here. And here. Aaaaaaaand, here.”
Bill gathered the papers together, stuck them back into his briefcase, and started the car.
“I’ll call the seller this afternoon, but I don’t anticipate any problems. You’re offering the whole asking price, and it’s been sitting here for over three years. So I’d say it’s yours.”