“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
Win was right though. He might have left home well over three decades ago, but the family hadn’t changed the way it operated. My father wasn’t going to give a damn about my feelings. And that wasn’t personal. Feelings were irrelevant—mine, or his, or anyone’s.
Win carried the firewood through to the fireplace, dumping it in the basket there and then straightening up to pick the wooden fibers off his polar fleece coat. “Did you sleep okay last night?” he asked, no longer teasing.
“The bed is really comfortable, thanks.”
Win’s mouth quirked. “Not what I asked.”
I dipped my chin in acknowledgement. “Okay, sure, not great.”
Win shoved his hands in his pockets. “Been there. I get it.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you stayed?”
Win sat down on the arm of the couch. “I know exactly what it would have been like, and the last thing Manhattan needs is another asshole in an expensive suit.” He snorted. “Would have been nice to still have access to some of that Van Ruyven cash when the roof needed replacing a few years back, or my truck died, but thinking that was the same as thinking about winning the lottery—it’s not gonna happen.”
“It could,” I said. “You could contest Grandfather’s will. With the right lawyers, you’d probably get half his estate.”
Kyle reappeared in the living room. “Hey, did we get toothpaste last week?”
“It’s under the sink.”
“I looked there.”
“Then look again,” Win said. “It’s there, I promise, unless you think we’ve got elves that come in at night and steal it.”
“It’s not there.”
“Look again!”
Kyle grunted, and turned and headed for the bathroom. Moments later he called out, “Found it!”
Win laughed silently, shaking his head. “Next time he complains he can’t find something and I say he does this every time, he’ll pretend not to remember it.” His smile faded as he regarded me seriously. “Dad’s money? As far as I’m concerned, Quentin’s earned that. He’d tell you the same thing.”
“Probably for very different reasons though,” I said. My father would believe he’d earned the entire inheritance becausehe’d been the one who’d stayed and helped to steer the business year after year. And Win, I suspected, would tell you my father had earned it because he’d sold his soul.
“Probably,” Win agreed softly. He stared into the middle distance for a moment, and then slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Okay, Kyle and I need to go help clear that driveway. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, if I didn’t tell you last night.” He had. “If you need anything, we’ll be right next door.”
“Thank you.”
I went to the kitchen and made a coffee, listening out for when Kyle and Win left. Outside, the day was cloudy and cold. The cabin looked especially cozy and warm, a feeling I was sure would only increase if the clouds kept building.
I heard the front door rattle as it was pulled closed, and moments later Kyle’s truck rumbled to life outside. An arc of headlights brightened the living room windows for a second, and then Win and Kyle were gone.
I took my coffee and sat on the couch and stared at the stag head. It stared back with button eyes. I grimaced at it, and then picked up my phone and made the call I’d been putting off since yesterday when I’d told Harvey I was staying.
James answered almost immediately. “Good morning, sir.”
“Hi, James,” I said. “Can you bring my father in on this call, please? And stay conferenced in with us.”
“One moment.” A few moments later: “Mr. Van Ruyven, I have Mr. Sterling Van Ruyven on the line for you.”
“Sterling?” my father asked. “Are you back in the city yet?”
Right to the point, Dad.
So maybe I was a coward, but the reason I’d asked James to stay on the line wasn’t just to keep him in the loop and save myself from having to repeat this later for his benefit. It was because with James conferenced in, this was a business meeting. And if there was one thing my father had taught me, it wasbusiness. I knew how to stick to my guns in the most hostile of board meetings.