Donovan nodded and lightly rubbed his chin, regarding his brother intently. “Does that mean you’ve finally made a decision about running for that city council at-large seat in the fall?” he asked his brother.
He’d known that for years a number of the African American leaders around town wanted Morgan to strongly consider a political career. He had charisma, charm and an ingrained sense of doing what was right. His community service—as well as his public service record—was astonishing and included such notable accomplishments as leading Charlotte’s Economic Development and Planning Council.
Another plus was that Morgan had been born and raised in Charlotte. The Steeles were one of the first families to begin a black-owned business that now employed a lot of people and who didn’t hesitate to pay their employees a very decent salary.
Another plus Donovan knew Morgan had in his cap was the Steele Corporation’s infrastructure. They were a company that believed in being loyal to the people who worked for them. When they had a chance to make a bigger profit by outsourcing a lot of their production department, they had refused since it would have meant putting over five hundred people out of a job.
Yes, there was no doubt in Donovan’s mind that if Morgan ever decided to seek a political office he would get it. Some even had him pegged as the man who would eventually become the city’s first black mayor.
Only a selected number of individuals were born to be public servants, and he’d always felt that Morgan was one of them. And although Morgan downplayed such, Donovan knew that deep down Morgan did want to become a political candidate mainly because of his ingrained sense of always wanting to help people.
“No. I haven’t made a decision, but I am giving it more thought than I did before. Dunlap feels the time is right. He’s also afraid if I don’t run, Roger Chadwick will, and both you and I know if that happens he will hurt the city more than help it.”
Donovan chuckled harshly. “That’s an understatement.”
“I have to know that I have certain things in place before making my final decision, and one of them involves you,” Morgan said.
“Me?”
“Yes. You. I’d like you to be my campaign manager if I do decide to run.”
Donovan smiled proudly. That meant Morgan being a candidate was a high likelihood. “Consider it done.”
Morgan nodded. “Thanks. Now for the other reason I wanted to meet with you. I met with Lena today because I’ve decided to sell my house and plan to buy a new one. She’ll be handling both transactions for me.”
Donovan looked at him and shook his head. “It’s your house to do as you please with, but I’m surprised you’d want to sell it. You’ve always talked about how much you like your home. According to you it was the ‘perfect’ house.”
“It still is, which is why I wanted to meet with you.”
Donovan leaned back in his chair. The expression on his face was one indicating he was clearly confused. “Evidently, I’m missing some point here, so maybe you ought to go ahead and tell me what I got to do with you selling your house.”
Morgan picked up his beer bottle and took another sip. “Lena mentioned that once I put my house on the market she’d probably begin showing it to a lot of people.”
Donovan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s usually how it works.”
“That’s all well and good,” Morgan said, ignoring his brother’s sarcasm. “But I don’t want anybody to buy it.”
“Then why in blazes are you selling it?”
Donovan waited for him to answer and when he saw Morgan wasn’t quick with any answers, he couldn’t help but laugh when he figured things out. “You’re pretty damn desperate to resort to putting your house up for sale just to get on Lena’s good side.” Donovan’s brows shot up. “But you still haven’t told me what any of this has to do with me.”
Morgan took another pull from his beer bottle. “I want Lena to try to sell it, but in the end I want to feel comfortable knowing the person buying it will take care of it.”
“And?”
Morgan sighed. “And I want you to be the one to buy it.”
First a grin spread across Donovan’s face as he thought Morgan was joking. But after studying his brother’s features and seeing Morgan was dead serious, Donovan began shaking his head adamantly. “No can do, man. I don’t need a place as large as your house. My condo is just fine.”
“But don’t you want your space?”
Donovan took another swallow of his drink and said, “I have enough space, thank you very much. I do one woman at a time, so that’s all the space I need. Besides, your house is on an acre of land. I don’t do yards. I never got along with grass. I don’t own a mower and don’t plan to buy one. It doesn’t bother me to pay those exceedingly high association fees for the golf course in my backyard, although I’m not a golfer. It goes with my image, one I want to keep. Besides, I always thought your place was too big for one person. I still do.”