Page 43 of Wood Riddance
I ran my hand along the surface. It was of highest quality. At least we’d get a good price when we eventually had to liquidate the furniture and equipment. The massive projector and the artwork were probably worth something too. And given how much Gary charged per hour, we’d be listing this shit on Craigslist sooner rather than later.
Gary was a corporate guy out of Portland. Owen had found him, and we’d hired him to represent the company in the criminal proceedings and any civil suits that came out of them. Owen had urged us to hire representation, since so much of the case was wrapped up in the business. Since the six of us were now responsible for Hebert Timber, that meant he sort of represented us. And while he wasn’t my dad’s lawyer, he worked with Dad’s and Uncle Paul’s attorneys and was our best source of information.
He and Owen jumped into a debate regarding taxes that I neither understood nor was interested in, so I tuned them out. Immediately, my mind wandered to Adele. Was she still at work? Did she have plans tonight?
The thought of her on a date made my stomach ache. I wanted to see her. Talk to her, spar with her, find any excuse to touch her.
I hadn’t seen her in two days, and already, I missed her. Not that I could tell her that. She’d tell me to go fuck myself and probably punch me in the nuts for my trouble.
But it didn’t change the fact that her glares and her annoyed sighs made the hard days worth it. Once in a while, when her guard was down, I’d even catch her checking me out. The way she traced her fingertip over my knot tattoo had haunted me for almost forty-eight hours. The lightest touch had made my heart race and my vision tunnel.
Moments like that were what gave me an inkling of hope that I might have a chance someday. She could deny it all day long, but she felt what I did. The energy that flowed between us.
“He still won’t plea,” Gary said.
Thatgot my attention. I shook myself from my Adele-induced haze and sat a little straighter. My dad was a stubborn bastard, but he couldn’t possibly think he’d be found not guilty, could he? For Christ’s sake, Parker Harding had recorded him confessing to almost every crime he was being tried for.
“We’ve got to convince him,” Owen insisted, his tone an angry rasp. He resented every minute he had to spend cleaning up Dad’s mess. “This can’t go to trial.”
I winced, and the pit of dread that had taken up residence in my stomach the day my father was arrested grew. The legal fees he’d rack up if he didn’t plea would be astronomical. “He’s not cooperating,” Gary explained, his expression soft, patient. “These are the feds; your dad is small change to them. They’re after the big fish, and your dad is in a great position to help them. In turn, he’d surely receive reduced sentences.”
My dad generally had no problem snitching to help himself. There was no code of honor by which he lived, and he had no morals to speak of, so we were shocked that he wasn’t already singing like a canary.
“We can talk to him,” Gus said. “Convince him to give them the information they want.”
“It’s not that simple. Your father’s enterprise was sizable, but it was only one arm of a much larger cross-border drug trafficking operation. Without actionable intel for the feds, he’s not likely to get a favorable deal. We don’t know who else he was working with, how he was brought into this, or how deep it goes.”
“What can we do?” This question came from Gus.
“Nothing right now. Discovery will take quite a while, and a case of this size will take years to work through the system. There’s no rush.”
“Untrue,” Owen said. “We’re hanging on by a thread here. We need resolution so we can sell while this company still has a shred of value left.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose while Owen and Gus debated selling and subdividing and all sorts of other possible solutions. They would never see eye to eye.
They were wired differently. Gus was a romantic. He loved the woods, and he loved the family legacy. He’d spent his life preparing to lead this company. No matter how much Dad sidelined him, he persisted.
He’d refused to go to college after high school, but eventually, about a decade later, he earned a business degree while still working full time. He wanted to prove to Dad that he could run the company someday.
When he wasn’t working, he was building furniture, reading poetry and entering timbersports competitions.
Owen was eighteen months younger, but worlds different. I swore the man wore suits even on the weekends. He attended charity events and Red Sox games, and his idea of hard labor was an early morning session on his Peloton. He was ruthless and practical and precise.
Naturally, the two of them were constantly at odds. They were night and day. It was inevitable.
This argument only emphasized how little being involved in the family business interested me. If it wasn’t clear already, it was blatantly obvious now that it was time to get serious about finding investors, doing my research, and making plans.
Maybe it was because I was working for the enemy. Or maybe it was the time I’d spent with Adele. Either way, I was finding my fight again. I had spent the last six months wallowing in self-pity, but I wasn’t the type of man who gave up easily. I needed to get creative and get off my ass. File paperwork, research insurance, and plan routes to take with potential investors.
The plane, as long as I could make the payments, was mine. Other than Merry, that was all that mattered.
That and maybe figuring out why the hell, of all the people in my life, I was most desperate to talk to Adele about this. She’d be a wealth of great ideas. She’d test all my assumptions and catch details I hadn’t even thought of yet. And yes, she’d probably insult me in the process, but I’d enjoy every minute of it.
As my brothers continued to snipe at one another, I became more and more convinced that I needed to see her. Not because I was wildly attracted to her—though I was—but because I had this energy bubbling up inside me, and I knew she would get it. She was a doer too. She couldn’t sit still if her life depended on it, and I had no doubt that she could kick my ass right into gear.
According to my watch, it was already after eight. I was itching to get out of here and swing by Gagnon. If I was lucky, she’d still be working.
For now, I wouldn’t dissect why I needed to see her so badly. I didn’t have the mental energy to question it. But when I got in my truck, I knew exactly where I was headed.
