Special Delivery (The Great Outdoors Book 4)

by Shayne McClendon

  The paramedic’s words were irrational, impossible. His grandfather, Genny’s husband, couldn’t be gone.

  * * *

  Gerald rode with his grandmother to the hospital and Spencer climbed in the back of the ambulance.

  Holding a hand that never offered anything but love and balance, he sobbed brokenly.

  Already, the man on the gurney didn’t look like his grandfather. He was too still, too pale, too cold.

  When they arrived at the hospital, he almost fell getting out of the ambulance and the paramedic caught him, saying gently, “It’s alright. There you go.”

  The car pulled up behind them and he walked leadenly to the rear door to assist his grandmother from the interior.

  “Spencer. This can’t be.”

  He hugged her, kissed her soft silver hair, and murmured, “I’m so sorry. So damn sorry, Grandmother.”

  “Help me, darling. I-I can’t embarrass his memory.”

  Standing to his full height, he removed a handkerchief from his inner jacket and she wiped her tears. He roughly swiped his own from his face.

  Inhaling carefully, he held out his arm and she placed her hand through it. They walked inside and handled all the paperwork. Within twenty-four hours, they knew his grandfather’s death was due to a blood clot in his brain.

  Gerald and the rest of the staff handled all details of the memorial and the services.

  They knew Genny needed her grandson.

  In the bedroom she’d shared with her husband since their marriage, Genny stared at a lovely oil painting on the wall of her seating area.

  A painting of the two of them, still clearly in love after more than half a century together.

  The painting was a gift from one of their many charity appearances together. The artist perfectly captured their expressions as they stared at each other.

  Genny’s slender fingers wrapped around her locket. She opened it to a photo of her husband taken the week their son was born.

  Tears slipped in silence over her cheeks as she touched the small portrait with the tip of her finger.

  Without looking up, she murmured, “Every moment since you were born, we’ve loved you, Spencer. Loving you healed us, saved us in the darkest hour of our lives.”

  “Thank you, Grandmother. I love you, too.”

  “What an amazing man you grew up to be. A true credit to your parents and the Bishop legacy. More than I dreamed.”

  Frowning, Spencer stood and went to her side. “Your opinion means everything to me.” Gently, he brushed her silken hair from her brow. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

  Lifting her face, she said through her tears, “I can’t bear it. My soul aches for him.” Stepping closer, she placed her palm on Spencer’s cheek. “I love you more than you will ever know.”

  He bent to kiss her cheek and she murmured at his ear. “I miss my darling. I need him. I’m sorry, my sweet boy.”

  Then Genevieve Bishop dropped like a stone.

  Catching her, laying her gently on the small sofa, he checked her vitals as he struggled to breathe. Confirming the worst, he kissed her forehead on a sob.

  Her hand still held her locket.

  Walking to the balcony that overlooked the first floor, he yelled brokenly, “Gerald!”

  He stepped from his office and removed his glasses. “Sir?” Unable to respond, Spencer simply shook his head. “Is it Genny, sir?”

  “Call an ambulance,” he managed to gasp.

  She was pronounced dead of a suspected stroke minutes later. Nothing seemed real.

  During the memorial at the local Catholic church, Spencer held his head high and fought to maintain decorum. He couldn’t stop tears from slipping over his cheeks.

  Hundreds of friends, staff, and business associates attended. Far more than the church could accommodate. People stood in the aisles and along the back wall. Others congregated on the front stoop and sidewalk of the church.

  So many people, Spencer thought, and none of them related by blood. I’m now the last of my family. The very last.

  After the prayer, Spencer stood and walked to the pulpit. Clearing his throat, he gathered his composure.

  “There is so much I could say about my grandparents. I could talk about their lifetime of helping others, their passion about saving the lives of children, and their tireless pursuit of an end to famine and disease around the world.

  “I could list their business accomplishments. How my family worked to build a vast corporation that stretched to every corner of the globe and impacted the lives of thousands.

  “I could speak of their brilliance and the risks they were willing to take to further technology and commerce. They built wealth without stomping on those weaker. They firmly believed that a rising tide lifts all boats.”

  He shook his head. “I could go into detail about all of those things and show you the incredible humans my grandmother and granddad were every minute they were alive. They changed the world…one project, one person at a time.”

  Voice breaking, he paused to blot his eyes. He needed to breathe, to remain calm.

  “No matter how magnificent, all of those things paled in comparison to the way they loved. Love they shared with family and friends, but most importantly, with each other.”

  Gripping the sides of the podium, he inhaled sharply. “A love so powerful Genny literally could not bear to live without it.”

  The lump in his throat ached badly. “M-my grandparents raised me after my parents died. They showed me through example the person I wanted to be. They loved me, protected me, and made me laugh.

  “I don’t know how I’ll manage, what life will be like now. I do know the City of New York will miss them, the world will miss them, and I will miss them every day that I live.”

  Twelve men bore the caskets of the people he loved most in the world. Most were the staff who adored Spencer and Genny Bishop with two exceptions.

  Harper Delkin and Hudson Winters took their places at the back of Genny’s coffin, their bodyguards moved to stand on either side of Spencer.

  As he made his way down the aisle to the waiting limousine, Elijah and Leonard matched his steps.

  The drive was a short one. They interred the bodies of his grandparents in the mausoleum behind the brownstone. Constructed long before such things were disallowed at private residences.

  As the bronze doors of the marble structure were sealed, mourners passed to leave flowers. Spencer stood rigidly with his friends beside him, waiting for it to be over.

  When everyone else was inside, he stumbled, holding the stone wall that surrounded the tomb for support.

  Hudson grabbed his arm. “Steady.”

  Distantly, he heard Harper speaking and in moments, a glass of scotch was being pressed into his hand. “Drink it.”

  He managed to get it down. “Thank you.”

  “It will ease, Spencer.” Gripping his shoulder, Hudson added, “You can survive this.”

  Nodding, it was hard to find his voice. “They were the last surviving members of my family. Everyone else on both sides is gone. Freak accidents, disease, and each generation having no more than a single child. I’m all that’s left.”

  “Yet there are many who care for you. We’re still here.” Harper patted his back. “Do you remember the first time I met you?” Spencer sniffled around a laugh. “Your grandfather told me I was too big for my britches and he was entrusting me to make sure you didn’t turn out the same.”

  “I remember.” He turned his head, peering into Harper’s silver-gray eyes. “You didn’t like me much at first.”

  He winked. “You grew on me.”

  “You grew on him as well.” Straightening, he inhaled carefully. “The first time Grandad met Hudson, he called him an arrogant upstart. He wanted to see if he’d hold it against him.” Black eyes held his intently when he looked up. “When you didn’t, it seemed he scheduled a meeting with you every week.”

  “He was a good man with a
brilliant mind. You’re just like him, Spencer. This ache will pass.”

  “I needed a minute. Thank you both.”

  “You’re welcome.” Harper clapped his hands together. “Let’s get the memorial over with so we can get blindingly drunk. Fair warning, we’re crashing at your place.”

  For several hours, he walked among men and women in his house who recounted anecdotes about his grandparents. Some he knew, others he didn’t.

  By the time the last of them drifted away, it was getting dark. Gerald laid out an enormous amount of food.

  “Tonight, take your mind off things. Tomorrow, we talk.”

  Until midnight, the two men he considered his closest friends made him eat, drink copious amounts of alcohol, and walk down memory lane.

  Eventually, Elijah and Leonard were talked into sitting with them. They refused alcohol but it was the most relaxed Spencer had ever seen them.

  Elijah practically carried Harper into one of the guest rooms.

  Hudson looked at Leonard and said, “I can make it. You might need to spot me.”

  Hiding his smile, Leonard replied, “Of course but I’m sure it won’t be necessary, sir.”

  Gerald helped him upstairs and tucked him in as he’d done when he was a boy.

  Once he was beneath the blankets, the butler murmured a child’s prayer that Genny used to recite with him every night and smoothed his hair from his brow.

  Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Get some sleep, Spencer.”

  He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t dream and he was glad of it.

  * * *

  Hungover and groggy, the three men consumed the food Gerald insisted they eat.

  Bidding his friends farewell, he walked through the house to the garden. Standing in front of the mausoleum, he stared at the intricate markings Raisa Krupin-Bishop commissioned upon the death of their landlord.

  His grandparents were now interred with Andreas and Raisa, as well as the woman who left the first generation of American Bishops her brownstone.

  Gerald appeared at his side. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I truly am.”

  He tried to respond but speech wouldn’t come.

  Gripping his shoulder, he murmured, “The day I lost your father, I lost my best friend. We were raised together in this house and I loved him like a brother.” He roughly wiped his tears. “You’ve suffered so much loss, Spencer. I hurt to see you without your family.”

  “Th-thank you, Gerald. I’m glad for you and the others.”

  “Your turn is coming, Spencer. I know you’re restless but you must believe.” He smiled. “Every Bishop male has stumbled upon his true love in the most unlikely place. It will be the same for you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’ll give you time alone.”

  Sunlight turned the back garden ethereal. Everything was in bloom and the marble glinted rose. He’d loved it as a child.

  His mind raced from grief over their loss, to anxiety about assuming the reins of the entire corporation without his grandfather’s sage advice, to anger that he hadn’t found the woman meant for him.

  The person who might have made it all easier to bear.

  “I love you. I’ll miss you. Nothing will be the same without both of you here for brunch, for long talks, for laughter. I’m glad you have each other. I wish I’d had longer with you.”

  Thought to thought, his mind skipped, settling on one thing definitively. He was now utterly alone.

  Eventually, he left the garden – and his childhood – behind. It was time to assume the reins of the empire left in his care and keeping.

  He had promises to keep.

  Chapter Five

  End-August 2009

  As the only surviving Bishop on either continent, Spencer inherited everything as he’d always known he would.

  He’d been groomed for it from birth.

  It took two months to bring himself up to speed on special projects his grandfather was working on before his death. He hired an additional assistant to manage his schedule.

  Gerald ensured the household ran like a well-oiled machine, as his father had done before him. He managed the estate staff and it was one less thing for Spencer to worry over.

  While losing Genny and Spencer had shaken his entire world from the foundation up, the company was so well organized that barely a ripple was experienced in daily operations.

  An emergency meeting was called by the board of directors. Several of the oldest members thought to intimidate him.

  A grizzled old man his grandmother referred to as death in a suit shouted, “There will be chaos! No one will have faith with you leading. We have to think of our investors first!”

  Another slammed his hand on the conference table. “You’re too young, Spencer! You simply can’t handle a business of this size with so little experience.”

  He looked at the other men and women watching him. Harper looked livid while Hudson appeared downright murderous. He was glad they both remained silent.

  “Anyone else? Now is the time to speak up,” he said quietly. “I suggest we put it all out in the open.”

  “You’re a sweet boy, Spencer but you’re not a CEO.” A woman who’d chaired multiple charities with Genny said bluntly. “I don’t see how we can trust you with what your grandparents built.”

  Inhaling carefully, he crossed his hands at his back. In a voice that slowly rose in volume, he told them, “You should trust me because my grandfather was no fool. I earned his trust. It wasn’t handed over as part of my goddamn inheritance.”

  There were several gasps around the room.

  “As for my age. I’m thirty-two – the same age Grandad was when he assumed this position. Despite popular belief, youth isn’t wasted on the young. I know which of you fancy yourself sitting here.” He put his hand on the back of the chair used by his grandfather for decades.

  Then he told them baldly, “Your funerals will come long before my own. Genny used to say many of the old claw at the young like someone drowning; jeopardizing themselves and the person who could pull their asses out of the water.”

  “Young man!”

  Spencer slammed both palms on the table, startling several. “Do not interrupt me when I’m quoting my grandmother!” He stared at each face. “No one knows this company and the people who support it better than me. Genny and Spencer knew made sure of it since I was five-years-old.”

  Straightening, he shot his cuffs. “This company is the legacy of my family. I will protect it. If you sow seeds of doubt among our investors, staff, vendors, or clients without basis, I’ll have your metaphorical head on a fucking platter…right beside every penny you possess.”

  He let the very real threat hang in the air for a count of ten before asking, “Is there anything else?” The room was silent. “Excellent. Let’s call a vote.”

  He accepted the CEO title via official vote without moving from where he stood behind his grandfather’s chair.

  “Thank you for coming in. You’ll receive the minutes as well as a revised schedule by tomorrow. Have a great day.”

  They filed out in silence, more than a little rattled. When everyone but Hudson and Harper were gone, Elijah closed the door and leaned against it with a smile.

  “You have a little terror in you after all, Spencer.” Harper grinned and stood to clap him on the back.

  Hudson shook his hand firmly. “Well done, Bishop.”

  “I need a drink. Threatening the elderly isn’t really my style but if left up to them, we’d be cycling asses through this chair with every gout flare-up.”

  They laughed and Hudson poured scotch.

  Harper winked. “I wasn’t sure you wanted the job until today.”

  “I knew it had to be mine but I didn’t know how bad I wanted it until they presented their bullshit arguments.”

  Clinking, they each took a long drink.

  Black eyes sta
red into his. “Now, you lead.”

  “Yes…but not today. I’m buying dinner.”

  Outside the conference room, all the people who occupied the management floor stood up and down the hallway. When he appeared, they all started to clap.

  He smiled at the woman who’d been his grandfather’s assistant for forty years. “Word travels fast.”

  “You don’t hear metaphorical head on a fucking platter every day in our line of work. I love keeping the minutes.”

  “Thanks.” He bent to kiss her cheek.

  In the elevator with his friends and their three bodyguards, Elijah said quietly, “I thought it was a coup. Glad I paused before killing them all. That would have been awkward.”

  There was a moment of silence as all of them digested the statement and then they started to laugh.

  It was his first real laughter since his grandparents’ deaths and Spencer would never forget it.

  * * *

  Meetings were limited to people he enjoyed doing business with and his department vice presidents handled the rest.

  Once he officially announced accepting the CEO position, he called a company-wide meeting to reassure employees that the ship was steady.

  His days were filled to overflowing but he struggled to sleep at the estate. It was too quiet without Genny’s big band music or Spencer putting golf balls in his office.

  As a result, he often slept at his apartment across town.

  Gerald asked him about it after a few weeks when he stopped by to catch up on estate business.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Spencer shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m running non-stop and it’s harder to sleep here. I need to be numb right now to function properly.”

  “Perhaps hard grieving now will help you later.”

  Blinking against the burning in his eyes, he murmured, “I keep thinking it isn’t really true, you know?”

  He shook his head. “They were so full of life, so fully in my life, that it seems wrong to let them go.”

  “They wouldn’t want you to hurt so badly, Spencer. They loved you more than anything in their lives.” Gerald paused. “If I may…plan an evening out. Get out of your own head, step away from work. Have fun and mix things up a bit.”