Chapter 15 - The Offer Riley Couldn’t Accept
Riley spent the next two days going through her mother’s belongings.
Boxes from Patrick’s attic.
Old filing cabinets.
Photograph albums.
Recipes.
Christmas decorations.
Nothing.
By Sunday evening, the Morgan living room looked like a museum had exploded.
Connor sat cross-legged on the floor.
“Mom saved grocery receipts from 1994.”
Patrick replied, “Your mother believed in documentation.”
“She also saved a coupon for forty cents off detergent.”
“Documentation.”
Riley smiled despite exhaustion.
Matteo sat nearby wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
Patrick watched him suspiciously.
Not because he disliked Matteo.
Quite the opposite.
That worried him more.
“So,” Patrick said.
Matteo looked up.
“Yes?”
“What exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”
Riley nearly dropped a box.
“Dad.”
Connor immediately stopped working.
This was now entertainment.
Matteo, unbelievably, answered seriously.
“To make her life less complicated.”
Riley laughed.
“You are doing a terrible job.”
Patrick nodded.
“Agreed.”
Matteo reconsidered.
“To be present.”
Patrick studied him.
Then nodded.
“Better.”
“Can everyone stop discussing me while I’m here?”
Connor said, “No.”
Riley threw a photograph at him.
He caught it.
Then his expression changed.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Connor looked at the picture.
It showed Riley at age seven sitting inside her mother’s Ford truck.
Ellen leaned through the window.
Patrick stood beside them.
On the dashboard sat a small metal document tube.
Riley looked closer.
“Dad?”
Patrick took the picture.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“That.”
He stood.
“I remember.”
“What is it?”
“Ellen’s emergency tube.”
Riley stared.
“Emergency what?”
“She kept vehicle titles, insurance copies, stuff she didn’t want in the office.”
“Where is it?”
Patrick looked at Riley.
“Truck.”
Riley stood so quickly she knocked over a box.
They drove to the storage warehouse.
The Ford waited exactly as they left it.
Riley searched beneath the seats.
Nothing.
Matteo examined the dashboard.
Again.
Riley looked at him.
“My mother really did like hiding things in cars.”
“You inherited towing. Maybe she inherited hiding.”
Patrick pointed.
“Behind the bench seat.”
They moved it forward.
A narrow metal tube was clipped against the cab wall.
Riley removed it.
Inside were old insurance papers.
Vehicle titles.
Her mother’s birth certificate.
And a folded deed.
Riley stared at it.
ORIGINAL WARRANTY DEED.
MORGAN TOWING PROPERTY.
Attached was a handwritten note.
Patrick,
If redevelopment ever happens, keep this original.
The 1974 easement was released in 1989 when the city abandoned the freight tunnel.
The release was never properly indexed.
This deed contains the recorded attachment.
Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.
—Ellen
Thomas verified it the next morning.
The easement was dead.
Morgan Towing controlled the land.
Completely.
Riley should have felt victorious.
Instead she faced a new problem.
What now?
Offers arrived daily.
Developers called.
Investors sent representatives.
One company offered sixty-four million.
Another proposed an ownership partnership worth even more.
Connor thought they should sell.
Not because he wanted money.
Because he was tired.
“I love this place,” he told Riley. “But we’re sitting on land worth more than we’ll earn towing cars in fifty lifetimes.”
Patrick surprised her.
“I agree.”
Riley stared.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“This place was Mom’s.”
“No.”
Patrick shook his head.
“This place was our life when it needed to be.”
He looked around.
“But your mother didn’t save it so you’d become trapped by it.”
Riley had not considered that.
Patrick continued.
“She protected your right to decide.”
The same thing Matteo had done.
That evening Riley drove alone.
No destination.
She passed the Mercer Grand.
The loading zone was empty.
She laughed.
Then she saw Matteo standing outside.
He noticed her truck.
Riley pulled over legally.
He walked up.
“You’re learning.”
“What?”
“Parking.”
She smiled.
“Get in.”
Matteo opened the passenger door.
For the first time since the day they met, he climbed into Riley’s truck.
“This feels familiar.”
“You’re not bringing a Lamborghini?”
“I’ve become cautious.”
She drove.
“Where?”
“No idea.”
“Excellent planning.”
They crossed the river.
Riley finally spoke.
“I got another offer.”
“How much?”
“Sixty-four.”
Matteo whistled.
“Connor wants to sell.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
“I spent my whole life believing keeping Morgan Towing meant keeping Mom.”
Matteo listened.
“But Dad said something.”
“What?”
“She saved my choice, not the land.”
Matteo nodded.
“That sounds right.”
Riley glanced at him.
“You’re not going to tell me what to do?”
“No.”
“You have opinions.”
“Many.”
“And?”
“They don’t matter.”
“They matter to me.”
Matteo looked at her.
That silence said more than an answer.
Riley turned onto a quiet road beside the river.
“What would you do?”
“If it were mine?”
“Yes.”
“I’d keep part.”
She frowned.
“Part?”
“Sell enough land to finance what you actually want. Retain the historic yard. Develop around it.”
“Into what?”
“Your decision.”
Riley thought.
Morgan Towing occupied far more property than they needed.
Half the rear section was unused.
The old warehouse barely functioned.
She could sell development rights without selling everything.
“Could that work?”
“Yes.”
“Financially?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve run numbers?”
Matteo hesitated.
Riley stared.
“You ran numbers.”
“I was curious.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I did not make an offer.”
“Show me.”
The next morning Matteo presented a proposal.
Not from Duca Development.
A model.
If Riley sold sixty percent of the property while retaining the towing yard and river frontage, Morgan Towing could remain.
The family could create a trust.
Employees could receive ownership stakes.
Patrick could retire comfortably.
Connor could expand operations to a cheaper industrial site.
And the original yard could be preserved.
Riley stared at the numbers.
“This actually works.”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked impressed.
“You should consider development professionally.”
Matteo deadpanned, “I’ll think about it.”
Riley laughed.
Then she noticed something.
“Who would buy the sixty percent?”
Matteo hesitated.
“Several groups.”
“Duca?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We withdrew.”
“I know.”
“Then—”
“I’m asking now.”
Matteo stared.
Riley continued.
“Would Duca want it?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I’m not discussing that.”
“Why?”
“Conflict.”
“Matteo.”
“No.”
Riley almost smiled.
Now he was using her word.
She leaned across the table.
“What if I invite the bid?”
He remained silent.
Thomas quietly left the room.
So did Connor.
Patrick lingered.
Riley looked at him.
“Dad.”
“I’m retired.”
“Go.”
He left.
Riley turned back.
“I trust you.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“I don’t want your trust to cost you money.”
“It won’t.”
“You cannot know that.”
“Then create a competitive process. Independent advisors. Sealed bids. No special access.”
Matteo studied her.
“You’ve thought about this.”
“For six minutes.”
“Terrifying.”
“Are you in?”
“As a developer?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“If you tow another car, I’m withdrawing.”
“No promises.”
The bidding process took three weeks.
Five companies participated.
Riley never saw the bids until an independent advisor opened them.
Duca Development did not offer the highest price.
They came second.
The advisor recommended the highest bidder.
Riley read both proposals.
The highest bidder wanted luxury towers.
Complete demolition of surrounding industrial buildings.
No public river access.
Duca’s proposal preserved the historic tow yard, funded a public riverwalk, incorporated affordable commercial units for local businesses, and created a transportation training center.
Riley looked at Matteo.
“You did this?”
“The planning team did.”
“You told them?”
“I told them the parcel had history worth keeping.”
The financial difference was three million dollars.
Riley closed the higher offer.
“I want Duca.”
Matteo immediately shook his head.
“You need to be certain.”
“I am.”
“Riley.”
“It’s my choice.”
He stopped.
Those words mattered.
She signed the selection letter.
Matteo did not smile immediately.
Instead he asked, “Why?”
“Because the highest bidder wanted my land.”
She looked at the Duca proposal.
“You understood why I wanted to keep a piece of it.”
Matteo finally smiled.
Then Riley added, “Also your parking has improved.”
“That hurts.”
“It should.”
The deal was announced two days later.
Reporters called it one of Chicago’s most unusual redevelopment partnerships.
Riley did not care.
She still had trucks to run.
Then, on the morning the contracts were supposed to be signed, Matteo failed to arrive.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
His phone went unanswered.
Adrian did not know where he was.
Sofia had not heard from him.
Riley’s stomach tightened.
Finally a message arrived.
From Matteo.
DON’T SIGN.
Riley stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
I FOUND SOMETHING IN THE DUCA FILES.
THE DEAL CAN’T GO FORWARD.
And suddenly Riley realized the biggest threat to their future might not be Daniel Whitmore.
May you like
It might be something Matteo’s own father had done decades ago.
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