From the moment he sauntered in, I didn’t like the look of the representative from the Frost Corporation. Not that there was anything bad about his appearance. It was more the absence of something.
His eyes were dispassionate and empty. His smile was false. As he talked through the paperwork surrounding his company’s potential buy-out of the Stevenson Mill, I had the distinct impression he would rather not spend his Monday afternoon talking to a couple of small-town business owners in financial distress.
So much for respect.
“Look, Mr. Smith,” I interrupted. Even his name seemed generic and impersonal. “You still haven’t told us what the Frost Corporation plans to do with our property. Do they want to continue running the mill?”
The Frost Corporation was such a massive conglomerate that it had been impossible for Rich and me to identify what offshoot of the company wanted our land, and so it fell to Mr. Smith to educate us.
He straightened his tie and continued to smile insincerely. “That information is not considered necessary at this point in the negotiations.”
“Excuse me?” It might not have been necessary for him, but knowing what was going to happen to my family’s legacy was necessary for me, and hopefully, for Rich too. “We need to know if our clients will have to be informed whether they’ll need to find alternative sources for lumber or not,” I countered, not buying the man’s shifty answer. “We may be a failing business, but we still have loyal clients. I won’t put them in a position where they suddenly have to buy their resources elsewhere with little or no notice.”
Rich’s narrowed eyes screamed, don’t be so hostile. I glared back at him. Mr. Smith undoubtedly didn’t want to tell us what the Frost Corporation wanted with the land, which meant the answer might sway our opinion.
Mr. Smith fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, coughing slightly. For a minute, I thought he might try to skirt the subject once more, but then he said, “We have plans to deforest the area and turn it into a cattle ranch for the fast-food industry. Although, who the ranch is for is confidential. I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”
That means he doesn’t want to, what an idiot.
And then his words sank in. They planned to demolish the mill and tear down our forest.
“No deal!” I didn’t like this man. He was smarmy, cocky, and his presence meant that everything we worked so hard to save, would be destroyed.
“Pardon me?” Red heat bled across Mr. Smith’s face the moment I flat-out rejected his offer.
Rich cleared his throat. “Mr. Smith, if you could give us time to have our lawyer look over the offer and advise us of our options, it would be appreciated.”
I’d thought for sure Rich was feeling the same way, but going by what he had asked Mr. Smith, maybe we weren’t on the same page after all.
“We can give you to the end of the month, and then we’ll have no choice but to take our offer off the table,” he replied. “You won’t get a better deal than this. While I appreciate the difficulty of your situation, don’t let your feelings get in the way of a lucrative business transaction.”
That was the most genuine thing the man had said so far. If only because he wanted this to go more smoothly than it was.
I didn’t know what else to say, so I sat numbly as Rich shook the man’s hand and showed him the exit.
This couldn’t be happening. I thought of Abel, the saw guy, and Alice’s son, Dan, who we hired last year to apprentice. They had watched a suited man walk into a dirty mill. He was so out of place. There was no doubt they would assume something was wrong. Mr. Smith had screamed trouble from the moment he entered the building.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to flat-out refuse anything he offered. However, there were no other deals on the table for the mill. Despite that, this felt so wrong.
Then again, if we allowed ourselves to go bankrupt, we’d end up leaving those we loved with no resources. These weren’t just employees. They’d become family. How would Dan afford his Friday night dates? What about Devon, whose wife needed meds for asthma? We had a responsibility to each and every person out there, some of whom had worked with our family for generations. I couldn’t leave my guys holding the bag at the end. They needed severance packages and health care. Dammit, they needed options, and I was out of them.
I glanced out the window to the forest—our forest—and could almost hear the trees screaming as they were ripped from the ground. I rubbed the sting from my eyes. What would Frazier Falls be like without the trees? The mill had been in my family for over a hundred years. Didn’t I owe it to my ancestors to fight and save what they’d built? What about future generations? The lumber mill was what Frazier Falls had been built around. What would happen to the town if it disappeared?
A knock sounded at the door. Since Rich wouldn’t knock, I knew it had to be one of the employees.
“Come in,” I called out with a voice ready to shatter.
In walked Christian Bower. He moved inside the office and looked over his shoulder for someone else, but no one appeared.
“Sorry to bother you, but …” he glanced behind him again. He stared at me for a long minute. “Is everything all right?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “I know things are a bit slow but are we closing?” His usual smile wasn’t present. “I only ask because my daughter Paulina has medical needs, and I need the insurance.”
Rich returned from showing Mr. Smith out. He looked between Christian and me. “What’s up?”
I was close to crying. “Christian wants to know if he should look for another job. He can’t afford to be without insurance for his family.”
Christian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and she was certain the man would cry. The emotion lodged in her throat.
“Paulina is a diabetic and needs her insulin to live,” Christian said. “If you think things aren’t going to turn around, I need to know. No insulin is a death sentence for my baby. She’s only five, but she’s a smart little thing, and I believe she has a bright future.”
Talk about gutting someone. There was no way I was going to let my employees down. If there was a way to save the mill, I’d find it. Too many people depended on us.
I looked at Christian through bleary, tear-filled eyes. “Things have been slow, but we’re working on a plan. I’m not ready to give up the mill yet. Don’t you worry. Paulina will get her medicine.” I glanced at my brother to watch his face grow red. “I’m working on a fix. Give me a little bit of time.”
Christian nodded and left.
“What the hell was that about?” Rich lifted his arms into the air. “We’d agreed to go forward with the sale.”
“I agreed to listen.” I threaded my hands through my hair and tugged at the roots. “I can’t do it. It feels wrong. How can we do this to the people, the land, the town?”
“It’s the only offer we’ve got.”
“Stop reminding me!” I brushed at the tears streaming down my cheeks.
He slumped into the chair beside me, resignation curling his shoulders forward.
“What else can we do, Carl? It’s not like we can keep the mill running. Beggars can’t be choosers. We have no other alternative.”
My head shook back and forth. “We can’t sell to Frost. We can’t. They’re going to … they’re going to ruin so many lives.” The tears flowed again.
“I know,” Rich interrupted, leaning over to hug me. “I don’t want that to happen, but we don’t have a choice.”
“There has to be something we’re not seeing.” I swiped at my wet cheeks. “I can almost feel Mom and Dad turning in their graves. Imagine what it will do to everyone here. Having an industrial-sized cattle ranch near town will convert Frazier Falls into a big money cash cow. Christian will have to leave town to find a job with adequate health benefits to keep his daughter alive. People like Alice and John will be driven out one by one until Frost owns everything.”
“No
w you’re being overly dramatic,” he murmured into my hair. I could tell by the tone of his voice that his words lacked conviction.
The scenario I described was plausible. Deep down, he knew I was right. Not only were we screwed, but so was the town.
“You think trying to save the life of a five-year-old is being overly dramatic?” I glared at him. “What’s the date today?”
“The third of August. Why?”
“We have exactly four weeks to find an alternative solution.”
“You’re right. But, …”
“What?”
“I don’t think we should risk leaving it that long. What could happen in the next four weeks that could change our circumstances? To be honest, I don’t think we should take longer than a couple weeks at most to decide. Hell, I should call him back now so we can sign the contract and be done with it.”
I put my hands on his chest and pushed. He stumbled back a few steps before he caught his footing.
“How could you toss in the towel so easily? You sound as if you’ve already said goodbye to this place.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe I’ve accepted our reality faster than you. You’re the dreamer. I’m the realist. I’m tired of all this.” He threw his arms into the air. “What else do you want me to say?”
I turned around and fisted my teary eyes. “I want you to say it will be all right!”
His lips stretched into a thin line. “I’m not going to lie to you like you lied to Christian.”
“I didn’t lie. I told him I’d look for a solution, and I will. But tonight …” I pushed away from my desk and pocketed my keys. “I’m going to Huck’s.”
Chapter Seven
Owen
I didn’t want to go to Reilly’s on a Monday night to apologize to Ruthie, but it was the right thing to do. Not to mention that my brothers would murder me if I didn’t get things straight with her as soon as possible.
In truth, I had bigger things on my mind other than whether we’d be able to drink at Reilly’s. After having spent an entire weekend sleeping, thinking, and stressing about my project, I realized I had holes in my vision. The design and construction of the buildings themselves were fine, but the execution of the plan needed work. I needed another pair of eyes or another brain to help me out. While I could ask my brothers, I’d need them all on board to cover the gaps in my skillset down the road. Besides, at this point, they thought I’d lost my mind wanting to build a bunch of model homes on my land. What I needed now was a jack-of-all-trades. Someone who understood the building industry to give me perspective.
Forcing the idea out of my head, I smoothed down my black T-shirt and jeans before walking up the stairs to the ramshackle building and into Reilly’s. On the chalkboard behind the bar, was John’s quote of the day. A smile is a curve that sets everything straight.
Ruthie’s thin lip line suggested she was in no mood to smile and was inclined to tell me to get the hell out, but I stood my ground, gritted my teeth, and walked over to the bar, flashing an apologetic smile. I opened my mouth to say, “I’m sor—”
“What do you want?” her venomous voice lashed out. She spun her hair up into a hair tie to keep it away from her face and washed beer glasses. A few stools over, two regulars glared at me. Ruthie had obviously told them about what happened on Friday night.
“You know I’m here to apologize. I let you down on Friday.”
“That’s an understatement. You didn’t even come after me when I left.” She dunked and rinsed like a madwoman on a mission.
Oh, so that’s what I was supposed to have done? Go figure.
“When I went out, you were already gone. I said I was sorry.” I did my best to mask my frustration. “I told you I was tired. That was the truth.”
“And hungover, according to the whole town.” She took her hands from the soapy water and shook them.
Water and suds flew at me like a hail of bullets. I stood and took it all.
“That too. I know. I was wrong. I played that night all wrong.”
Ruthie gave me a deadpan stare. “Let’s be honest. You didn’t care about the night at all. It was like I was some mercy date, and you were the sacrificial lamb.”
“Ruthie—”
“Just go, Owen,” she interrupted, pointing toward the door with a hand still covered in soapsuds. “I’m not happy with you right now. I’m allowed to be upset. You wasted my night off. Don’t come in here for a while.”
“I’ll stay away, but what about my brothers?”
Her face turned a mottled red.
Oh. Wrong thing to ask.
“You’re not sorry, are you?” Her voice lifted an octave from the first word to the last. “You only came to apologize because your brothers made you.” She pointed to the door. “Consider the Coopers not welcome in Reilly’s.”
Ah, shit. Now things are so much worse. I slunk out onto the sidewalk and headed to my car. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I’d have a beer in Reilly’s after apologizing to Ruthie. Being back on friendly terms was the goal, but clearly that wasn’t in her plan.
“Huck’s it is,” I said aloud as I jumped into my truck and took a turn off the main street to the shady dive bar nobody claimed to visit, but in reality, everyone did. A bar needed drinkers to stay in business.
It was the same old place I remembered. Run-down. Smelled bad. Mostly empty. I couldn’t blame Pax for not liking the place, with its half-lit bar signs hanging from the pockmarked wood paneling. The air smelled of fried food and stale beer. There was no one in sight but for an old man at the end, finishing a pitcher by himself. At the opposite end, I slid onto a stool.
“Give me a whiskey, please, Brady,” I said to the bartender. Brady had taken over for his old man and had made zero effort to improve the place. He was of the opinion if it wasn’t broken, it didn’t need fixing. He nodded his head in acknowledgment and slid me a half-filled glass of amber liquid.
I surveyed the rest of the low-ceilinged room as I took a sip of the strong liquor. No one around meant that I got to mull over my problems by myself.
I needed someone to help me bring my environmentally friendly houses to life. I was passionate about my work. Always had been, but I struggled to vocalize that passion to other people.
Pax was the people person in Cooper Construction for a reason, while he was often painfully quiet, he could talk to people. He simply chose not to.
I could be charming when I needed to be. Hell, my charm usually worked, but there would always be someone who could see through my bullshit. People like Ruthie. Or worse, the people I wanted to impress—the investors. Even though my ideas and plans were solid, I needed a face—a person who could persuade backers to go all in. As much as I lied to myself that I could be that man, I knew, deep in my marrow, I wasn’t him.
That someone needed to command a room and force people to listen. I needed someone who could turn my passion into words. Someone who wasn’t me.
Sadly, I didn’t know anyone like that. It wasn’t likely the sky would open up and drop them in my lap, so I ordered another whiskey. Plan B was to drown my problems in drink.
The door to the ladies’ restroom swung open, and a beautiful woman with chestnut hair that glinted in the low light of the bar suddenly appeared before me.
Carla.
She blinked up in surprise and recognition.
“What are you doing drinking here on a Monday?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I fired straight back. “I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead in Huck’s.”
She swung up onto the barstool beside me.
“Hey, Brady,” I called out. “Get Carla whatever she’s drinking.” A moment later, a frosty mug of beer slid down the bar and stopped perfectly in front of her without so much as a splash.
“It’s better than going to Reilly’s and having to endure his Zen master bullshit. I needed a change to prepare me for all the changes coming my way.” She picked up the mug and dr
ank deeply.
Carla’s statement made me curious, but something told me not to press for an answer.
When she brought out her purse to pay for her beer, I waved it away.
“Have one on me for bothering you after work on Friday.”
She quirked a brow but didn’t complain, holding her beer out to clink glasses with me.
“Here’s to Monday night drinking.”
I laughed. “You plan to drink the whole night?”
Her head nodded like a dashboard doll. “I’m just getting started.”
“When did you get here?”
Dark circles under her eyes pointed to a bad day. Bad enough to warrant entering a bar she swore she’d never visit.
“One beer ago.” She waved a hand dismissively. “No need to be concerned, Mr. Cooper. I needed to let off steam.” She pulled the mug to her lips and sipped, leaving a line of foam on her upper lip until she licked it clean with a swipe of her tongue. “What brings you in here on a Monday?”
“You want the truth or my excuse?”
She sighed and leaned in. “You know, an excuse is a lie we tell ourselves. Having said that, I want to hear both.” She nodded. “Definitely both.”
I settled into my seat, turning to face her. Funny how she complained about his Zen master quotes yet doled one out herself.
“The excuse is that I need somewhere quiet to think. The truth is that I had a date on Friday night with the bartender from Reilly’s, messed it up entirely, and went to apologize ten minutes ago. Screwed that up too, and now my brothers and I are banned from the place.”
“How did you manage all of that?”
“Oh, trust me. I’ve got talent. It was easy.”
“Was the date important?”
“No,” I answered truthfully. “Ruthie asked me a couple weeks back, and I had no reason to refuse.”
“No reason? If you weren’t interested, that was reason enough.” Her tone was much like Ruthie’s. One part disbelief. Three parts annoyance.
I shifted on the barstool uncomfortably. “Let’s say I’m not great at refusing pretty girls, but I should have said no to her. I know that now. No more casual dating for me. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Rescue Me: A Frazier Falls Novel Page 4