All Good Intentions Read online

“Of course.”

  “We are anxious to begin development of some properties on the east coast of the island. My colleagues at Winterberry have advised me that Kurt Steffensen is the person to see about development and economic prospects in the province. Would you agree?”

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow, insulted that he wasn’t being asked for his opinion on the economy. “Kurt is a very successful businessman with his hand in many different projects. You might find his advice useful . . . if he is willing to give it. As for whether he’d be willing to invest, that’s another story.”

  Kevin looked puzzled. “Are you suggesting he’s not approachable?”

  “Not at all. He’s just selective about whom he talks to and who benefits from his investments.” Jonathan stood to follow him to the door. “And by the way, if I may offer some further advice, I wouldn’t mention your interest in the Sinclair house to Kurt, or anything about Charles Sinclair, for that matter. There was no love lost between the two men.” Jonathan knew, even as he spoke the words, that Kevin would do exactly the opposite. He was counting on it.

  “That’s good to know. Thanks for warning me.” Kevin headed down the stairs, and once out of eyeshot of anyone in the office, he smiled. That being the case, Kurt and I have at least one thing in common already. That’s where I’ll start.

  * * * * *

  At mid-morning, Doris McKinlay looked up from her work at a tall, impeccably groomed man approaching her desk. He was wearing wire-rimmed gold glasses that enhanced his expressive brown eyes and an expensive, tailored grey suit with no visible creases. Doris’s habit with all newcomers to the building was to memorize details of their appearance, as if she would be called upon to pick him out of a lineup at some future date. Having passed her inspection, Kevin was ushered into Kurt’s office.

  “Mr. Steffensen,” he greeted Kurt with a firm handshake. “I’m Kevin Gillis. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a great deal about you. All positive, of course.” He refrained from disclosing his source, inwardly admonishing himself for being so patronizing.

  “I see. That’s interesting. Please have a seat. Coffee or tea, perhaps?” Kurt asked.

  “Tea would be quite nice, if Mrs. McKinlay doesn’t mind. Thank you.” He turned back to Doris still standing in the doorway. “Just plain. No cream or sugar, please.”

  Kurt’s eyes met Doris’s. He was still standing behind his desk, wondering about this confident man who sat in front of him. “Thanks, Doris, I appreciate it.” The glint in his eyes told her that he would have something to say for setting up this appointment.

  “Yes, sir.” She smiled back.

  “Now then, Kevin, you mentioned to Doris on the phone that we met last year at a conference. My apologies, I can’t remember meeting you.”

  Kevin took a moment to neatly adjust his pant leg. In preparation for the meeting, he had carefully decided how much information he would divulge. He was determined to keep personal details to a minimum. “Please,” he waved dismissively, “there’s no need to apologize. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. It was the Atlantic Business Conference in Fredericton. I was merely introduced to you and we shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, that sort of thing. It actually took some doing to get close enough to you at the banquet to do that. You are a popular man with many friends.”

  “Acquaintances,” Kurt corrected him, bothered by the personal assessment of someone he did not know.

  “Oh, but I’m sure they’d consider you their friend.”

  “My friendship does not come easily.” Kurt closed the file folder that lay open on his desk as he noted that Kevin was glancing at its contents.

  “Or cheaply?” was his retort.

  Kurt was surprised by the question. “I’m sorry?”

  “Excuse me, it’s just that I know you’re a wealthy man. And my experience has been that people in such positions of power and wealth do everything for a price.” Kevin suddenly realized he was no longer choosing his words carefully. He struggled to rein in his frustration. He had anticipated a wealthy man with an ego to match his bank account, but something about this man was putting him off.

  “Uh huh.” Kurt paused. “Kevin, I have a very busy schedule. So, if you could get to the purpose of your visit, I’d appreciate it.” Doris entered the room with the tea and placed it on the desk. Behind Kevin, she gave Kurt a questioning look and then retreated. She shook her head and closed the door behind her.

  “Certainly. I appreciate that. I’ll be brief.” He sat up and tried desperately to find a tact that would endear himself to the man sitting across from him. So far neither a patronizing nor self-effacing tone had worked. He would try blunt honesty. “Kurt, I’m interested in developing some land here in Newfoundland for bed and breakfasts or high-class inns.” When there was no response, not even a facial expression he could judge, he continued, made uneasy by hearing his own voice. He shifted uncomfortably. “I bought two places in Nova Scotia recently and turned them into beautiful inns for the tourist trade. Quite lucrative, I might add.”

  “Good for you,” Kurt said, though Kevin questioned his sincerity.

  “I understand that Newfoundland will become the target of economic development in the next twenty years or so, bringing new people to the area. They’ll need somewhere to stay. I want to take advantage of the possibilities.” He added a broad smile and hoped that the suggestion of making money would pique Kurt’s attention.

  Kurt leaned back, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t know what this has to do with me, Kevin. I’m a publisher. Shouldn’t you be talking to a real estate agent?”

  “Oh, I already have. It’s just that I’ve been told that if anyone wants to know what’s happening in this province in terms of development, he should talk to you. It’s said that you either own the land or the person who holds the deed.” He laughed nervously, louder than he intended, and hoped that Kurt wouldn’t press him to disclose his source. “I realize you are a publisher primarily. But I also know you make money in other ways, land development, oil and hydro investment, and so on.”

  “And who’s been telling you that?”

  “It’s a small community, and I recently read an article in the Globe about economic potential here, and in it you were interviewed. I’m a writer as well as a land developer, so when I prepare to meet someone, I automatically do some background research. It’s public knowledge that you are a highly successful businessman. Your bank manager must be very happy.”

  “Indeed, she is.” Kurt wondered where the conversation was going.

  “Kurt, I have two reasons for seeing you. First, I’m hoping to get your considered opinion on investments in property around the island, with the view of having you invest, if you’re interested. Secondly, I’d like to do a brief interview of you for an article I’m writing on Atlantic Canadian business people. It wouldn’t be complete without a profile of you.”

  “I have a meeting shortly, a literacy initiative I am chairing, and I need to prepare for it. It would have to be at another time.”

  “Of course, this is just a preliminary meeting. I’m hoping that we could set up some time, perhaps an hour or two, say next month? I would just like to know how you got started and what is the key to your success. Any time that is convenient for you. I’ll be researching business in Newfoundland over the next few weeks, and I’ll be spending some time at the university archives. As I said, whenever you have a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

  Kevin opened his leather case, pulled out a legal-size file folder, and placed it in front of Kurt. “Here are my plans and credentials. I’d appreciate it if you would take a few minutes just to read it and give me your opinion, that’s all. If you are interested in a financial commitment, that would be great.”

  Kurt reached for the file. “You appear to be quite confident in your plan. I hardly need to provide you with
an opinion or money.”

  “I am, but it never hurts to get an opinion from someone who is here. I have only a Maritime perspective. I’d appreciate an investor who is local.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Why do you want a local investor?”

  Kevin was not prepared for the question and balked at revealing his true motivation. “Well,” he scrambled for the appropriate words, “because you know the place better than I or my colleagues do.”

  Kurt smiled. “Good answer.”

  Pleased with himself and sensing a change in the mood, he continued. “I’m sure you’re well aware how important perception is. I’m in business, just like you are. You convince people what they should be reading, and then you publish it. I convince people where they should be spending their vacations, and I build the accommodations. Simple.”

  “Kevin, I can’t speak to your business, but I’m certain that nothing about this business is simple. Would that it were! I’d avoid my late evenings in this office.”

  “Fair enough. I didn’t intend to minimize your efforts or mine. You’ve done well. I haven’t done too badly. And I intend to do much better.”

  “No doubt you will.” Kurt played with the cover of the file folder momentarily. Finally, when he did open it, he was startled. Facing him was a colour photo of the Sinclair house.

  He looked up. “You’re interested in the house owned by the Sinclair family?”

  Kevin, realizing now that he had Kurt’s undivided attention, sat up and leaned forward in the chair. “Yes, I am. In fact, I’m hoping to see it soon, if possible.”

  “I wasn’t aware that it was on the market.”

  “It isn’t. Not yet. But I intend to find out if the owner will consider selling it. I’ll offer a substantial amount. I’m sure I can satisfy her.”

  “Then you’ve been in touch with Jeanne Sinclair.”

  “No. But again, something I plan to take care of while I’m here.”

  Kurt smiled and wondered if Kevin had any idea what he was in for. “Well then, I wish you luck.”

  “I was hoping that a good word from you would help. I understand that Jeanne is your ex-wife.”

  “Kevin, you might know a thing or two about business, but your knowledge of divorce is lacking. Divorced couples rarely part ways on the best of terms. Jeanne Sinclair would hardly consider a word from me as a reason to sit up and take notice. I’d have more success going out there and telling the tide not to come into the harbour.”

  Kevin laughed. “You wished me luck. You think I will need luck to deal with your ex?” He ran his hand back and forth across the leather armrest nervously.

  Kurt closed the folder and laid it on the far corner of his desk. “I leave it in your capable hands.”

  Kevin realized that their meeting was over. “Certainly.” He paused and decided to take a chance. “Kurt, if you don’t mind my saying so, it must have been difficult to have Charles Sinclair as your father-in-law.”

  “You knew him?” Kurt looked surprised at the question.

  “I’ve heard about him from people who used to work for him. Nothing very kind, I must say. My guess is that you didn’t acquire your business acumen from him.”

  “That would be correct.”

  “Then one could say that you had little admiration for the man?”

  “My opinion of him hardly matters,” Kurt said cautiously. “He made decisions every day like we all do. Besides, he’s gone now.”

  “I’m interested in Mr. Sinclair because I am aware that he was a prominent Water Street businessman in his day. Perhaps, when you have some free time, you would tell me what you know about him.”

  “Kevin, I think the best person to talk to would be his daughter, Jeanne.”

  “Of course,” he responded, amazed that the man would not give an inch. “Would you at least consider my request for an interview?”

  “I have some free time in the next few weeks. I’ll have Doris set up a time when you’re in the city. How’s that?”

  “That is very much appreciated. Thank you for seeing me. My local contact information is enclosed in the folder.” He stood and looked at the view of St. John’s harbour and Signal Hill that stood over the city. “This is quite the place you have here. Do you mind if I ask who the architect was?”

  “My son, Joe.”

  “Really! He did an impressive job.”

  “He did.”

  “Would he be available to do some work for me? I have some land outside the city, and I’d like to build a home on it.”

  “You will have to ask him. His office is across the street, fourth floor. But I suggest you make an appointment. It’s summer, a busy time for him.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Kevin studied the paintings on the walls and the tall bookcase at the far right of the room with neat rows of books each with Steffensen Publishing on their spines. “Your employees must be quite comfortable. You take care of them well.”

  “Without them, I wouldn’t have a business.”

  Kevin had turned to leave but stopped suddenly. “Do you really believe that?”

  “I do,” Kurt answered.

  “Some would say that in a province where jobs are at a premium, they really owe you. But I guess you’re not that type of man.” He smiled, nodded, and walked briskly to the door, turning back momentarily. “I’ll be in touch.” Kevin stood with one hand grasping the side of the large door, looked at Kurt’s name, and closed the door behind him.

  Kurt guessed that there was more to this man beneath his self-assuredness. The door opened, and Doris entered with a look of disgust.

  “Rather smarmy, wouldn’t you say?”

  Kurt smiled. “Smarmy, Doris?”

  “A cross between slimy and disarming. Smarmy.”

  Kurt laughed. “Interesting observation, but I think there’s something Kevin’s not willing to divulge right now.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He said he wanted some advice about land development and an interview for a magazine article he’s writing.”

  “You think there’s more?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Anyway, I’ll leave it to you to set up a time. An hour should do it. Here’s his contact information. Now, let’s get ready for today’s meeting. I need an agenda.”

  “Fine.” She placed a sheet in front of him and sat in the same chair Kevin had vacated. “Oh, by the way, if you were planning to leave early, I’ve set up two meetings for you this afternoon.”

  Kurt glanced at her. “I thought you would. You are the sole reason I cannot perfect my golf game.”

  “Uh huh.” Doris chuckled. “From what I hear, you do a fine job of that all by yourself.”

  Kurt considered tossing Kevin’s file in the nearby recycling bin. Instead, instinctively, he opened it again and glanced at a map of several rural communities and a detailed plan for development. He closed the folder and placed it on the side of his desk, hoping it was the last he would see of Kevin Gillis. But he knew even after their brief meeting that that would not be the case.

  * * * * *

  “It’s great to get back to our regular routine of meeting for lunch,” Caroline Kavanagh commented to Jeanne, who sat across from her in their favourite restaurant. “I have missed our conversations, Jeanne.” She swept back her dark brown curls with one hand and straightened the utensils on the table in front of her with the other. “How have you been?”

  “Fine, just fine,” Jeanne responded, staring mindlessly at the menu. “You enjoyed Florida?” she asked, with little care for the answer.

  “Oh, it was the same as past years. Six months is far too long to be away from home.” Caroline and her husband spent winters in Florida. Each year Caroline encouraged
Jeanne to visit, although Jeanne preferred to stay away from George as much as possible, for reasons she would not divulge to anyone.

  “You say that every year.”

  “I know. But George likes to golf and the socializing that comes with it. Frankly, I find it boring. Still, the weather is so much better than the unbearable winters here. I have no idea how you survive it.”

  “We have shelter and clothing, Caroline,” Jeanne answered sarcastically. She decided on her choice for lunch and laid the menu across the plate. “How’s Brittany?” Brittany was Caroline and George’s only child. Now thirty years old, she had attended school with Lauren, Jeanne’s daughter.

  “Good. She’s still managing that new spa downtown, although I can’t say she enjoys her job. She certainly doesn’t say much about it.”

  “She’s quite capable,” Jeanne reminded her. “Perhaps she doesn’t talk about it because you don’t ask.”

  “Hmmm . . . I s’pose. But to be honest, I had hoped that she’d be married by now. Brittany is far too particular when it comes to husbands.”

  “Is there such a thing?” Jeanne asked coyly.

  Ignoring the question, Caroline continued, clearly nervous and hesitant to broach the next topic. “Jeanne, I’ve heard that devastating news of yours. I just don’t know what to say now that the news is out.”

  Jeanne felt her stomach wrench. Where was this going? Did Caroline know? “News?” she asked weakly.

  The waitress interrupted their conversation long enough for Jeanne to order a garden salad. Caroline took much longer to decide and asked about the ingredients of each lunch item. She had always claimed to have food allergies that upset her stomach, although Jeanne was convinced that Caroline’s digestive issues were more likely related to her marriage. Jeanne looked around impatiently, smiled at a few familiar faces, and returned to her friend’s fixation with the menu. Finally, she chose the creamy carrot, tomato, and ginger soup and returned the menu to the waitress.

  Caroline leaned in closer, adjusting the necklace around her pale pink twin-set. “News about Joe, of course. The engagement. It must have come as quite the shock to you. I was going to phone you from Fort Lauderdale when I heard, but I thought you might be too upset to talk.”