Page 40 of Where We Began

I don't respond. I just knock on the door loudly. “It's me,” I say. There's no response. I wait with my arms folded, not planning to budge until he talks to me.

The receptionists stares like I'm on fire as she sits back in her chair. She's acting cagey, eyes darting to me. When I look her way, she investigates the ceiling then the papers on her desk, like she's doing important work. This isn't because I stormed inside the office. She's fidgeting, a woman ready to dart into the elevator to get as far from me as possible.

She's finally heard the news. Someone has spoiled the broth.

Now she's afraid of me.

I remind myself that I can never allow Laiken to know what I did.

I wouldn't survive her looking at me like that.

The door opens, and my father waves me inside. “Get in here,” he snaps.

I follow him in and shut the door behind me. “Why aren't you answering my calls?”

“Because I am in the middle of figuring out how to handle the loose ends that Joseph left behind. So unless you've brought him with you in the trunk of your car, make this fast.”

“I don't have him, but I do have an idea. Something that will help keep this company from taking a nosedive.”

He sits in his padded leather chair and pours himself a glass from an expensive looking bottle of whiskey. I cringe at seeing him drink. I know how quickly he can spiral, and I know what happens when he spirals. “Tell me you're amazing idea,” he chuckles.

“It's not my idea, it's Laiken's.” My dad lifts his eyebrows, but he let's me continue. “She thinks we should try to have a party. A big event where we can wine and dine some current clients and some new ones, ensuring that we raise our bottom line and prevent the shareholders from scampering off in fear.”

My father swirls his glassed then sips it. “This is her idea, you said?”

“All her.”

“That doesn't make you suspicious?”

“Why would it? Her idea is good, and right now, it's all we have.”

He drains the glass, closing his eyes as he enjoys the burn of the liquid. “You know she's doing this to save her own skin, right? I told her she had to make Annie happy, this is what she comes up with.”

“It doesn't matter to me why she's doing it. What matters to me is that it helps us. And it's going to.”

He considers me with his eyes glittering like dark jewels in the deep hollows of his face. The years have not been kind to him. His skin has sunk into the deep grooves of his cheekbones and every other place it can as the meat beneath erodes away. He reminds me of a dried out piece of fruit.

“Do you plan to help her with this?” he asks, his voice soft and thoughtful.

I nod my head. “I was going to spearhead it. It's easier for me to arrange things than her. I doubt many of the staff will listen to her instructions. But they will listen to me.”

“Of that I'm sure of,” he says, laughing dryly. “Everyone on our estate has heard what happened in Switzerland last year.

I tense up, hoping not to have this conversation now, preferably ever.

“They're terrified of you, you know,” he whispers.

I keep my voice steady. “Good.”

He watches me for a long minute. Refilling his glass, he takes a quick swallow, smacks his thin lips. “Thinking about that whole mess, I wonder if we can even get your uncle to show his face at this party. His connections go very far. If our hope is to get new blood, he could easily bring some in.”

“I can't ask him,” I blurt, shaking my head. I'm losing my cool as I imagine seeing my uncle Vahn's face again. “He hates me, you know he does.”

“And rightfully so,” my father says, talking more to his drink than to me. “I understand the meaning of diplomacy. I'll get someone else to reach out to him. You, meanwhile, should head back and begin the process of arranging this event. It's not worth doing if it won't be done right.”

Excitement trickles up towards my heart. It makes it pump faster. “I'll get right on it,” I say, turning towards the door. As I leave, I think about how much of my life has been this: me visiting my father in a place where he's powerful, where he can fit in his chair and stare down his nose at me. A scene that's repeated so often in my memories, you could switch them around and not tell which happened when.

Uncountable times I've told my father I would do what he's demanded. It should bother me more. It's hard to be upset when I'm getting what I want.

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