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had been as calm and smiling as a politician caught in a scandal. But when he was asked about the lawsuit, anger had taken over. He said he’d had a strong working relationship with the Galveston bank for years, which was why he was surprised when the bank president’s own son used his influence to help three complete idiots with no business experience to buy the property to open a B and B. He’d gone on to say he wanted the house back because it had “sentimental significance.” Then he’d added: “Frankly I pity anyone gullible enough to stay at the Pearl Island Inn, because that house is too run-down to ever make a decent bed and breakfast. The fools who bought it only wanted it because of an old grudge against the LeRoche family.”

Allison looked at Chance, still trying to take in everything he had just told her. “I can’t believe he said all that.”

“I can’t either,” Chance told her. “It was really stupid on his part, because he opened himself up for a big fat slander suit. Not that it will be easy to win, but that’s what we’ve been discussing.”

“Have you asked Malcolm for his advice?” Alli asked, referring to the attorney Chance had hired on their behalf. “What did he say?”

“I called him the minute the interview ended,” Chance told her. “He said it looks pretty good in our favor. We can’t sue him for calling us fools. That’s opinion. But his comments about the house show ‘malicious intent’ to harm the reputation of our business. Malice is a hard thing to prove, though, and filing the suit could just bring more attention to his inflammatory remarks. We’ve already had the local paper calling up wanting our reaction.”

“What did you tell them?” Alli asked.

“I told them exactly what Malcolm told me to say, ‘no comment.’ And that’s what all of us need to say to anyone who asks about this. Especially if we file a slander suit. We don’t want John LeRoche to be able to file a countersuit because of something one of us says in a moment of anger.”

Allison turned to Adrian. “What do you think we should do?”

“I think we should sue his ass for everything we can get And if it attracts media attention, fine. Bring ‘em on.”

“Rory, I assume you’re with Chance on this?” Allison said.

“Absolutely.” Rory nodded. “Although I may have to duct-tape my mouth shut to keep from telling people what I think of John LeRoche.”

“Well, okay then.” She took a deep breath, battling her aversion to any kind of confrontation. “I vote we should do it.”

“Fine.” Chance nodded. “I’ll call Malcolm tomorrow. In the meantime, we have other business to discuss.” He opened a folder.

Rory groaned at the sight of the computer printouts, each one filled with neat rows of numbers. “Do we have to talk about money? I’m already depressed.”

“Sorry.” Chance gave his wife a sympathetic smile. “Although it’s not all bad news.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Adrian sat forward to look over the figures.

“Of course, it’s not all good news, either.” Chance handed each of them a report. Allison cringed at the amount of red ink. “Our occupancy rate is only averaging fifty percent.”

“Well, that’s up from our first quarter,” Rory offered. “And this is only our first year. We expected to lose money at first.”

“I know,” Chance conceded. “But I’ve been running some numbers, and our operating costs are too high. We either need to cut costs or raise our rates.”

“Or increase our guest capacity,” Rory said.

Adrian arched a brow. “You mean divide up the ballroom on the third floor?”

“Oh, Rory, no,” Alli said, her heart sinking at the thought. The third floor was like a beautiful music box with whimsical frescoes and ornate plasterwork. “We all agreed to leave the ballroom intact, so we could rent it for private parties and day conferences.”

“Only we’re having trouble booking conferences, because we don’t have enough rooms. So I was thinking”— Rory’s eyes sparkled as she looked at each of them— “what if we go ahead and build the bungalows we’ve discussed now instead of waiting?”

“Not practical.” Chance shook his head. “We already have too much invested in this venture. We can’t possibly borrow any more money until we start showing a profit.”

Rory disagreed, and the debate was on. Allison chewed her lip as she listened to both sides, fretting over what they should do. Chance’s argument for caution was sound, but Rory had a point. Too much caution could spell failure. They were either committed to succeeding or they weren’t. Of course, Rory looked at everything as an all-or-nothing proposition, and the thought of failure rarely entered her mind.

The debate headed quickly for a stalemate. To appease both sides, Allison agreed to look for ways to cut costs and increase income with the gift shop.

“Well, I’m not cutting back on anything that jeopardizes the quality of the food,” Adrian insisted, setting off a new debate between him and Chance.

Allison closed her eyes as a dull throb started behind her forehead. Why couldn’t there be an answer that pleased everyone and guaranteed success? “If y’all will excuse me,” she said, “I think I’ll go clean up, then do some inventory work in the gift shop.”

Adrian frowned in concern as she rose, but didn’t object to her leaving.

By the time Allison finished showering and changing into a clean T-shirt and denim jumper, Adrian had come downstairs. She could hear him in the room they’d meant to be Rory’s bedroom. When Rory had married, she and Chance had built a small house on the island, secluded from the inn by a stand of trees. Adrian had turned the spare room into a workout room with free weights along one wall and mirrors covering another.

Crossing to the doorway, she watched her brother go through the graceful movements of t’ai chi. “I take it Rory and Chance have headed home?”

“They have,” Adrian answered without breaking stride.

“Would you like me to

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