All We Knew

by Jamie Beck

That should have comforted Sara, yet an unsettled feeling wove through her body and balled up in her stomach.

  “Thank you for the tour. My offer to help out personally is sincere. In the meantime, I’ll speak with our director about rushing through your grant request.”

  “So nice to meet you, Sara. Have a blessed day.” Gloria waved her off at the front door.

  Sara glanced at her watch to see how much time she had for lunch before having to drive up to Portland. On her way home, Hunter called.

  “Babe.” He hesitated. “I can’t make the appointment this afternoon. My dad’s called a meeting of the executive team to discuss whatever the hell Pure Foods proposed on Friday while we were at Berkeley.”

  “Can’t you ask him to reschedule for tomorrow morning? If he knew why you needed the out, I’m sure he’d agree.”

  “That just gives Jenna more ammo and another day to work on him and others to get them on her side. She’d paint me as ‘distracted’ by my family obligations, which wouldn’t help me convince anyone that I can take over if my dad retires.”

  “I really need you there, Hunter. What if I get bad news? I don’t want to be alone.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she added, “This is our family. Isn’t that at least as important as the meeting? It’s not like you’re voting on anything today. And even Jenna wouldn’t be so insensitive to our situation as to take advantage of it.”

  “It’s not that simple, and you know I’ll never trust Jenna . . .” His sigh came through the phone. “Can’t Colby or my mom go with you today?”

  “Your mom isn’t back from her long weekend with Rusty, and Colby’s so busy she asked me to go cover a foundation meeting, so I doubt she’s available.”

  “Gentry’s always available. Maybe you could ask her.”

  “She’s not exactly one for hand-holding.” Sara thought about his baby half sister, whose favorite pastime was provoking her family. “If I get bad news, she’s likely to shrug her shoulders and suggest we do shots or get a tattoo.”

  He chuckled, but she found no humor in the situation. He sighed. “I’m sure you won’t get bad news at this stage. Every visit in this round has been very positive. I’m sorry to miss out, but it’s a tricky time for me at work. Please give me a pass today.”

  “Fine. I’ll call Gentry.” She punched off the phone before he could say more. She’d give him what he wanted, but she didn’t have to like it.

  Her earlier determination to make this week better between them tickled her conscience, but she squashed the guilt. Why did she always have to bend? Why did his goals matter more than hers? She blew out a breath and refocused, then scrolled her “Favorites” for Gentry’s number.

  Gentry. She could be sweet and amusing when she set aside the chip on her shoulder. Chip? A boulder, really. One that kept her from getting on with her life in any meaningful or productive way. Perhaps Sara should make Gentry go with her to the Angel House so she’d appreciate her easy life more.

  “Hey, Sara,” Gentry answered. “What’s up?”

  “I need a favor.”

  A heartbeat passed, as if Gentry anticipated some kind of trap. “What kind of favor?”

  “Hunter can’t make our doctor’s appointment at three, but I’d like some company in case I get bad news. Are you free?”

  Another moment of silence ensued. “Let me guess. Colby and Leslie aren’t available.”

  Although true, Sara chose to respond with a technically honest response to spare Gentry’s feelings. “I didn’t ask them, actually.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come on. I haven’t seen you since you got back from Napa. I’ll pick you up for lunch, and you can tell me all about your trip.” That, at least, would be entertaining. Gentry’s vacations usually involved at least one outlandish adventure.

  “Okay. But we need to go someplace that serves alcohol. I’ll need a drink with lunch if I’m going to be stuck with an image of your legs in stirrups for the rest of my life.” While Gentry snickered, Sara wondered if this might be a mistake.

  “I’m so bloated and crampy. Some days I worry my ovaries will explode,” Sara groaned while waiting for the doctor, lying back on the exam table.

  “Fewer details, please.” Gentry shuddered and wandered around the small room, fiddling with everything in reach. How she didn’t topple off the stilts she called boots, Sara didn’t know.

  “Oh, please. I’m still trying to block out the TMI you shared about your exploits with ‘Smith’ in Napa.” Sara especially wished she could unhear the specific details of Smith’s substantial anatomy.

  “What can I say? He was beautiful. I couldn’t resist.”

  “How can you describe his ‘package’ in vivid detail yet not know his full name or if Smith is even any part of his real name? Hunter would kill you if he knew you spent the night with a stranger. You’re almost twenty-six. Isn’t it time to start using better judgment?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t my wisest decision, but his voice . . . his eyes.” Gentry’s hands flittered in the air. She made quite a picture standing there, auburn hair in wild layers, knee-high boots, and micro miniskirt with some kind of green metallic top skimming the curvy lines of her figure. “Let me have my fun before I’m too old for guys to want me.”

  Sara propped herself up on her elbows. “Being wanted—truly wanted—isn’t about youth and beauty. Of course, there’s that superficial kind of desire, but real desire sparks from who you are, what you think, and your passion for life. Those are the things that make us uniquely attractive to others, and luckily they tend to improve with age.”

  “Whatevs.” Gentry shrugged as Dr. Barletta entered the room.

  “Sara, sorry for the delay.” He smiled at Gentry. “Well, hello. You’re not Hunter.”

  “His sister, Gentry,” Sara said.

  Sara caught Gentry eyeing Dr. Barletta in a predatory manner as she shook his hand. Granted, the man had appealing Roman features, but Dr. Barletta was older than Sara would have thought Gentry would find appealing. Then again, maybe her sister-in-law was planning to work out her daddy issues by dating someone older. She supposed that would be preferable to the Smith situation.

  Sara cleared her throat. “I’m hoping for good news.”

  “Me too. Blood work is perfect, so let’s look at the rest.” Dr. Barletta lubed up the ultrasound wand and began exploring her ovaries and uterine lining. Using a keyboard and mouse, he carefully marked off coordinates on the screen to measure each of the egg follicles.

  Gentry stared at the screen with a sort of morbid fascination, which provided Sara a much-needed distraction from the significance of this appointment. Eventually, Dr. Barletta pushed back and removed his latex gloves. “Everything looks great. Eight eggs ready to go. I want to bring you back in two days for the retrieval. Schedule that on your way out.”

  Although grateful that Gentry had accompanied her, she wished Hunter had been here to share the moment. She felt they should experience all the little wins together and be there for these would-be children from the get-go. Warm tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He smiled, probably very accustomed to teary women. “You’re welcome.” He then launched into detail about the preprocedure instructions. “So I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  Once he left them alone, Sara dabbed her eyes and sat up. Without a word, Gentry handed over Sara’s clothing.

  “I’m glad you got good news, Sara.” Gentry’s ruddy cheeks set off another wash of emotion. It wasn’t often one got a peek beneath her defenses.

  “Thanks for being here. It’s nice to share the happy moment with someone.” Sara squeezed Gentry’s hands. With nine years between them, she and Gentry had never developed the sort of sisterly bond Sara shared with Colby. Hunter’s poor relationship with Gentry’s mother made for another easy excuse as to why they weren’t closer, which wasn’t fair. She would do better. Gentry deserved that from her.

  “I’ll step out so you can change.” And
then, as if needing to restore the balance of her own emotions, Gentry added, “And to avoid a second look at your human pincushion of a belly.”

  Sara dressed and then located her phone, which contained a text from Hunter. He’d likely be in the midst of the big meeting now, so she texted back rather than call.

  Great news. Retrieval on Wednesday. Please clear your calendar.

  He’d disappointed her today, but she wouldn’t let it spoil her excited anticipation. The Angel House had reminded her to appreciate her blessings and the beautiful lifestyle Hunter provided. Besides, for the next few weeks, only positive karma would do.

  She’d drop off Gentry and then start on dinner. A spontaneous celebration of hope that, by summer, they might finally have a child—or two or three—of their own. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she imagined his delighted surprise when he came home to homemade onion rings.

  Chapter Four

  Hunter steeled himself for battle.

  “Do you need anything else before you go in there?” Bethany asked from across his massive desk.

  “No.” He stood, and so did she. “I need to hear what Pure Foods is pitching before we can formulate a plan to thwart it. Thanks, though, for your diligence.”

  “Anything you need. I love working here, with you.” Bethany slid the pro forma budget they’d been discussing into a folder. “I’d hate for CTC to be absorbed into a multinational conglomerate. What a massive cultural change that’d entail. And the downsizing . . .”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stop it. In the meantime, we need to keep this very quiet. There’s no deal yet, so gossip in the ranks would only create problems you and I will have to deal with once I win.”

  “Of course.” Bethany smiled. “Count on me, Hunter.”

  He watched her go, grateful for her loyalty. She understood him. Knew why this meant so much to him. With some chagrin, his thoughts went to Sara, who no longer had much tolerance for his ambition.

  She and Gentry were probably checking in with the reproductive endocrinologist now. He was certain she’d get good news. Whether she wanted to acknowledge it, those few hours he would’ve lost taking her to and from the doctor had been better spent securing the future here for their kids. Still, he’d hurt his wife, and that never sat well. Quickly, he sent her a “thinking of you” text, and then he headed toward his father’s office.

  Unfortunately, Jenna had beaten him there, as had the head of HR, Ross Hardy, and Jim Turbot, CTC’s general counsel. Hunter would have to wait until after the meeting for his father’s undivided attention.

  Everyone was seated at the small conference table in the corner of the large, unadorned office—a functional, unpretentious space that matched his father’s personality. People liked Jed Cabot’s affable air and leadership style. His friendly smile and near-folksy mannerisms had earned him loyalty and trust. He motivated his staff to work to its best ability.

  Hunter didn’t have that skill set. He tended toward frank, direct communication that was neither coddling nor intentionally confrontational (unless necessary, like today). He’d never needed anyone to push him to do his best. That came naturally, and he preferred to work with others who shared his drive for excellence.

  That said, he’d always admired his father’s rather effortless way of managing people and the business. What he didn’t understand was why his father was now willing to walk away from everything they’d built.

  Stomach in a rock-hard knot, Hunter nodded at everyone and then sat beside Jim and directly across from his father. He loved his dad but wouldn’t make this easy for him. He didn’t even feel guilty about that. As far as he was concerned, this sale idea broke every promise his father had ever made to him.

  Judging from the way his dad had yet to make direct eye contact with him, he knew that, too. Of course, Hunter refused to look at Jenna, whom he blamed for this situation. Jenna, who’d somehow managed to get in between him and his dad throughout the years.

  Looking at Jim, his dad began. “Might as well plunge ahead. I got a call from Pure Foods. It’s interested in assessing the viability of acquiring CTC, assuming we’re willing, and its due diligence supports its assumptions about profitability and fit.”

  Hunter stared at his dad without blinking, growing impatient with his refusal to look him in the eye. He’d have to force it. “Why sell?”

  “Your father—” Jenna began, but Hunter held up his hand.

  “I didn’t ask you, Jenna.” His gaze remained locked with his dad’s. “I’m speaking with my father.”

  “It’s not a done deal, son. It’s just something to consider. The question isn’t why sell—it’s why not consider selling.”

  For a second, Hunter blanked, unable to conceive of those words coming out of his dad’s mouth. Years of planning and shared dreams that had been played out in this very room flickered through his mind.

  “Because this is ours. Because we can grow this company as well as any conglomerate. Better, even, because we have passion. Cabot Tea Company means something to us Cabots.” Hunter paused. “Or at least it does to me, Dad.”

  “I appreciate your commitment.” His dad gestured to the others. “The commitment of everyone here, frankly. But Pure Foods is floating a rough valuation of one point one times sales, which is one hundred forty million dollars. They’d also retain the key executives in this room.”

  “What about the manufacturing facilities and low-level employees?” Ross asked.

  “We only had a preliminary discussion, so we haven’t fleshed out all the issues and consequences. If we proceed, then those things will be worked out.” His dad glanced at Jenna. “I can’t, in good conscience, ignore this opportunity. The economy’s been sluggish. I’m sixty-five and have dedicated most of my adult life to this business. I can’t dismiss a chance to cash out while I’m still healthy enough to enjoy time off.”

  “If you want to slow down and enjoy your life, let me take over. You and Jenna will still receive annual dividends, so you can travel and do whatever you want. But CTC will remain a Cabot-owned business.”

  “You’re thirty-four, Hunter,” Jenna interrupted. “You’re not in a position to lead this company.”

  Jim and Ross visibly winced, but Hunter kept his cool. Throughout the years, he’d been told of the intimidating effect of his gaze. He turned that on Jenna now and watched her shrink back in her chair. You damn well should sit back.

  Decades ago, when his dad had moved out and taken up with Jenna, Hunter had worried about losing his old man to a new life. Luckily, his dad had made an extra point of reassuring Hunter that they’d remain close despite the fact that they were no longer sharing the same roof. CTC, in particular, became their “thing.”

  As a young kid, Hunter had trailed his dad all over this building and beyond, asking a million questions. By middle school, he’d started working here in the summer, gradually taking on more responsibility.

  But once Hunter came here to work after college, things between Jenna and him had started to sour. Hunter could only assume that she’d never considered him a threat when he was young, but once he became educated and had grown up, she got jealous that she was no longer the sole person at CTC whom his dad turned to in a crisis.

  “I’ve worked here since sixth grade. Unlike you, who’s only ever worked in marketing, I know every facet of this business. I worked in manufacturing in Idaho between high school and college. Studied biology and have traveled to China, India, and Africa, and been involved with creating different blends. I run the numbers, whether we’re talking payroll, capital expenditures, or marketing budgets. I know the market. I even know the employees by name. So don’t pretend that my age prevents me from knowing how to run this business. I know the levers to pull to maximize profitable growth, and everyone at this table knows that.” Hunter looked at his dad. “Don’t waste Pure Foods’ time or mine. If I have to start dealing with its due diligence team and answering questions, it’s going to detract from my
ability to do my day-to-day job.”

  To his credit, his dad’s expression proved him to be a little bit torn. “I know you’re passionate, son, but one hundred forty million dollars is a good price for this business, especially in an uncertain economy and trade environment.”

  “I assume they’ll want a nondisclosure agreement while they investigate?” Jim Hardy interrupted, probably hoping to defuse the brewing confrontation.

  “Yeah, that, and if it goes forward, they’d want some noncompetes from Hunter and me.” His father met Hunter’s steady gaze with a bit of trepidation.

  Noncompetes? “You’d sell my birthright out from under me and tie my hands, too?” Hunter tossed his pencil on the table. “I can stay on at the company I helped build and take orders from some other CEO, or I get to leave but not use my expertise for however long Pure dictates?”

  “Son,” his dad began.

  Hunter stood and rubbed one hand over his face. “Can you all excuse us? I’d like to speak with my father alone.” When Jenna didn’t move, he snapped, “You too, Jenna.”

  She looked at her husband, but at least his dad didn’t argue the point. He patted his wife’s hand. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Once everyone filed out of the room, Hunter closed the door. He kept his back to his dad for a moment, thinking.

  He drew a calming breath because he didn’t want to fight, even if he was prepared to do so. “Dad, if you want to step back, step back. Stay on as chairman and keep a finger in the pot, but let me step up as CEO. You know I’m ready. No one but you knows as much about every aspect of this company as I do. Let me implement some of the ideas I’ve had. I know I can grow the business and hand it off to the next generation of Cabots. This is our legacy, Dad.”

  “You and Sara want to start a family. Is this the best time for you to get more involved in work? The price of my ambition was a broken family. Is that what you want?”

  The apples-to-oranges comparison caused Hunter to sputter. “Sara and I aren’t you and Mom. We’re compatible.”