Page 118 of Good as Gold
“I noticed.”
She smiles. “Is there anyone in your father’s life that he would listen to?”
I actually laugh. “No, and there never has been.”
Her gaze softens. “I’m sorry. You have a lot on your plate right now. And it looks like you’re going to have even more in very short order.” She eyes my belly.
“True. But it will all work out,” I tell her. What other choice is there? “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run to a meeting.”
* * *
I’d lied to my dad about one thing. That meeting with the graphic designer? I’d postponed it. My real meeting is with Nash.
My brother and I sit in Dad’s office. I’ve got my feet up on a stack of accounting ledgers, but I’m still achy and uncomfortable.
I haven’t been sleeping well, either.
“How did he get this sick?” Nash wants to know. “Grandpa died of a heart attack at seventy-nine. But Dad is only sixty-five.”
“Apparently, he’d been having symptoms for months. Pain in his chest and neck.”
Nash makes a noise of disgust. “Are we even surprised? He probably thought he could bully his heart into cooperating.”
I’m guilty of similar thoughts. And when I’d overheard his sheepish confession to the cardiologist, I’d wanted to scream. “Regardless, we need to discuss the future. He’s looking at several months until he’s fully recovered. And I’ve got maybe three weeks left to be his full-time whipping boy. I really need your help here at the brewery.”
My brother’s eyes widen. “Are you joking? Dad wouldn’t want me totouchhis precious ales.”
“He doesn’t have a choice! He needs you.Ineed you. And I’m asking for your help.”
“Leila, Jesus.” My brother gets out of his chair and—hands on his head—does a quick circuit of the big room. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t see how I can help. I have a demanding job and a life of my own. I left Vermont for areason. And that reason is lying in the hospital, probably shouting at all the nurses.”
I flinch at this uncomfortably accurate assumption. “Nobody is saying that you made the wrong choice. But the facts still stand—this business is valuable, and it’s not small. It’s also your family’s legacy, whether you wanted it that way or not. If Giltmaker stumbles, that’s a disaster for both DadandMom. Furthermore, you’re the only one who’s qualified to step in. He runs a one-man show here.”
“That’s because he’s an idiot!” Nash explodes. “A brewery of this size should have a CEO, a brewmaster, and a marketing executive. Not just a single grumpy asshole who thinks he knows everything.”
My phone rings for the tenth time today. I pull it out to see who’s calling. Matteo again. So I have to decline it.
“Who called?” My brother asks.
“A friend.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Which friend?”
“Don’t change the subject. What if you asked your company for a leave of absence? You could take over for six weeks.”
“Six?” He practically chokes on the word. “God, Leila. Six weeks is a lifetime. And I can’t think of a more thankless job. If any little thing goes wrong, I’ll never hear the end of it. And even if it doesn’t, he’d only accuse me of industrial espionage.”
He isn’t wrong. But I still press my case. “So you won’t be the bigger man? That’s what I’m asking of you. If this business tanks—that’s our parents’ retirement.”
Nash spreads his arms. “Leila, go have your baby. Let his ship sink if it’s going to sink.”
“Nash! You don’t mean that,” I insist. “Some small part of you cares what happens to this crazy thing Dad built from nothing but stubborn grit and big dreams.”
He wilts a little. “The company is incredible. But dad is not. And you’re asking me to sacrifice myself for a man who wouldn’t do the same for us.”
That’s accurate. And now my argument has run out of gas.
So have I. I rub my back and pray for a break, or a nap, or a sandwich.
