More Than Everything

by Rachel Kane

  “That’s not fair. We went through that whole application process in good faith.”

  “It’s not fair, but it’s their money either way. And without the grant…how can we get this place into shape to open it up?”

  Noah spread his hands. “I don’t know! The same way we always would’ve, without them! We’ll take out loans—”

  “We have taken out loans.”

  “Use our savings—”

  Liam’s grim look said it all.

  Of course Noah already knew all this. The house was huge. Even though it was structurally sound, even though it was beautiful and seemed so perfect, it took money to restore. More money than any of them had. Liam had already drained his savings, his retirement, everything. Mason had put his more meager amount of savings into it as well. Judah too. Noah didn’t have any money to start with, so he hadn’t contributed in that way, just with his time…with his soul.

  Mrs. Cooper stood up, taking a restless Roo from Noah; the baby didn’t like all this somber talking, and it was making her fussy. As she stepped away, Noah touched her arm. “What about you, Mrs. C? You haven’t said much.”

  She smiled at him in the way his own mother never had. In that way that, when he was younger, one of those hundreds of times he’d run away from home to stay with the Coopers, she’d smile at him and he’d nearly burst into tears. “What is there to say? I came down here in search of my late husband’s past, in search of his family, and I found it. I love this house—I love it with all my heart, it feels like part of us, as much as if we’d lived here all our lives. But I don’t know what the answer is. If we can’t fix it up, then it’ll fall into disrepair, it’ll crumble before our eyes. Do we want that? Would it be better for some rich men who have no roots here, who have no family here, to at least come down and take care of it? I don’t know, baby boys. I just don’t know.”

  He picked his suit up off the floor. The shirt would need ironing, definitely. Had the suit itself gotten wrinkled, the way he’d thrown it into a pile? He had to be more careful. Less emotional.

  A soft knock at the door. Judah, again.

  “Hey, can I come in?”

  Noah shrugged, and his best friend took that as assent, collapsing onto the bed. “What a day. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being around people?”

  “A time or two. Do you think I should take my suit to the cleaners?” He held it up so Judah could see.

  “Why? It looks fine.”

  Which meant it definitely needed to go to the cleaners. More expenses. He put it back on a hanger and closed the armoire. “And now, a drink.”

  “It’s still barely the afternoon.”

  “Damn, will evening never get here? Will you go to Toady’s with me tonight? I hate drinking alone.”

  But Judah wasn’t answering. He’d sat up on Noah’s bed, and was staring out the curved window, down at the curved drive that led to the property’s walls and gate.

  It wasn’t like Judah to be thoughtful. Absorbed in a game? Sure. Engrossed in a book so you couldn’t snap him out of it? Happened on a daily basis. But there was something about his unfocused gaze that let Noah know there was something on his mind.

  For all that he’d been furious at Judah earlier for even suggesting that they sell the house, the look on his friend’s face made all Noah’s sympathy well up.

  “Scoot over. Talk to me.”

  Judah shook his head. “It’s not… It’s not a talking kind of thing. I’m just worried. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what we should do. You had a good point. It’s just, all that money…”

  He didn’t have to finish. Noah knew.

  Noah said, “Do you remember back in high school, we always had to read these stories about people in the 1700s, 1800s, whatever, and they were always on the verge of being ruined?”

  Judah shook his head. “I always bombed those tests because I wanted to read science fiction instead.”

  “I never understood those stories, because, well, I felt pre-ruined. You know how it was in my family. We weren’t just broke. It wasn’t a temporary situation. Then, in those stories, all those people worrying, worrying, worrying. If I don’t marry the right man, my meager inheritance won’t be enough to keep me in lace and crinoline. Like, damn, Jane Austen, get a job like everybody else has to. Except that suddenly I feel like I know what those stories were about. If we don’t get a billionaire’s help, we’ll lose our fantastic mansion. Talk about your first-world problems!”

  “Yet if we sold it, we’d literally never have to work again,” Judah said.

  “You mean you’d never have to work again. As Dalton pointed out, it’s not my house.”

  “Oh, c’mon, you know Liam would include you in any deal.”

  “You’re sweet, but I kind of doubt that. Why would he just give me a ton of money? He’s got Roo to think about. Who knows how much college is going to cost when she’s old enough to go? But come on, Judah, you’re missing the bigger picture. This house belonged to your dad.”

  His friend shook his head. “It never did. Dad wouldn’t accept it. He refused it, he kept it secret from us, kept everything secret from us. Just because Mom and Liam are fine with that now, doesn’t mean I am.”

  “This place doesn’t mean anything to you?”

  Judah groaned and rolled over on the bed. “Why does everything have to mean something? I don’t know! Why does it mean anything to you? That’s what I don’t get! It wasn’t your dad who kept the house a secret from you.”

  At least you had a dad.

  One of those things he’d learned not to say.

  He glanced at his armoire, awkwardly pushed against the rounded wall. Nothing in this room really fit. That’s why it was perfect for him.

  How could he explain to Judah what it meant to live in a place like this? To have come from nothing, and be involved in something huge, beautiful and historic?

  How could he explain to anyone?

  When you grow up hiding under the kitchen table, waiting for your mom’s new boyfriend to get drunk enough that he stops yelling at people, all you can think about is getting out, getting somewhere safe.

  What was safer than Superbia Springs, protected by his friends?

  “What if we could convince Dalton to drop his offer, and give us the grant anyway?”

  “He’s not going to do that,” said Judah.

  “What if I could convince him?”

  His friend opened his eyes. “Oh no. Oh hell no. Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  “Trust me. I could get him to change his mind. I’ll use all my wiles.”

  “This isn’t some closeted insurance salesman from Buckhead we’re talking about,” Judah said. “He’s a billionaire. He can buy fifty guys if he wants them. A hundred. He keeps them all in a big Boy Warehouse. What makes you think you could convince him, even if you are a spicy little minx?”

  “You say the sweetest things.”

  “Meanwhile he’s zooming around in expensive cars, laughing at plebs like us. We don’t have big-business cred. We don’t move in their world.”

  But that was the thing Judah didn’t get. Dalton hadn’t been driving that car. He’d been a passenger. He hadn’t taken a limo, he hadn’t driven his own expensive billionaire car. He’d just had his dumb brother drive him. He wasn’t after the house for himself. It was a gift for his father.

  Dalton’s mind worked differently than Judah thought. He wasn’t a typical businessman.

  There’s something there I can work with…if I have the chance.

  “You’re going to flirt with a billionaire until he gives you what he wants? That’s your plan?”

  Noah grinned. “It’s like I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.”

  6

  Dalton

  “Companies don’t run themselves,” said Colby, his leather driving gloves tight against the wheel. “Let’s get home. I wish we’d flown. Taken the chopper. I hate having the ca
r on these dusty roads.”

  Dalton glanced out the window at the small town around them, the people going about their mysterious daily errands, stopping and saying hello to neighbors, clutching shopping bags. A few turned to watch the car go by, recognizing that it was something unusual for these roads. What would they say, if they knew Colby preferred taking the company helicopter to driving, since he never got caught in traffic in the sky, and most of the places they visited had ceiling helipads? Would it be a matter of pitchforks and the guillotine, people disgusted with his wretched excess? Or would they instead be jealous, eager for a taste of that kind of wealth?

  “Do you ever wonder what people are thinking?” he asked, staring now at a diner with a painting of a red cat on the window.

  “Never,” said Colby. “They’ll think what I pay them to think, and if they have any other thoughts, they know better than to tell me.”

  “Like, right now. The Coopers have my offer. What’s going through their heads?”

  “You complain all the time that I’m wasting money on frivolous things, yet the minute you see a house you like, you try to snap it up. And don’t give me that Dad bullshit, I know you want the place for yourself.”

  He turned to look at his brother. “Do I?” That was an odd thought.

  “Of course it’s for you. What, are you really suggesting we fly Dad down? With all his doctors and nurses and all that damned equipment he’s hooked up to?”

  “Stop the car,” said Dalton.

  “What?”

  “Just park. Right there.”

  “I’m not parking there,” said Colby. “What if someone dings the bumper?”

  “Then you’ll buy a new car. Just park the damn thing, would you? I want to get out.”

  His quick steps had taken him nearly to the diner before Colby caught up. “What’s going on? Why did we stop?”

  “Do you want to get a burger?”

  His brother looked at the diner and sighed. “Are you kidding me? You’re suddenly eager to die of food poisoning? Dalton, if you’re hungry, we can stop somewhere when we get to civilization.”

  But Dalton was already pushing the door open, entering the cool, heavy air, laden with the scent of frying.

  “Y’all just take a seat anywhere,” came a voice from the back, “and I’ll be—oh!”

  A tall woman with red hair strode out, carrying more plates than she had hands. “Well hello, strangers! I’ll be with you in a jiff, let me just drop off these orders.” With the skill of a juggling acrobat, she somehow managed to pick up a bottle of ketchup on her way to one of the booths, sliding all the plates down in front of her customers with ease, the clicking of the plates against the table matched by the clicking of her gaudy plastic earrings.

  “Dalton—” started Colby.

  “Atmosphere,” breathed Dalton. “That’s what I’ve been missing. Look at this place.”

  “Yeah, look at it. I don’t think it’s been cleaned in a decade. Should I have my secretary call the health department?”

  “Would you just enjoy something for once in your life?” he asked his brother. “Just once?”

  “Now, I haven’t seen you boys before,” said the waitress, approaching with laminated menus. With a wink that might have been flirtatious, but was at least conspiratorial, she said, “Would you rather sit over there near the window, or up front at the counter with me?”

  “Window—” said Colby.

  “The counter will be fine,” said Dalton.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Colby.

  “Taking in the local color,” he said.

  His brother laughed. “You think the Coopers are going to call you back right away.”

  “No, they’re going to take their time.”

  “You think they’re going to be so awed by your offer on the house, that they’re going to call you in ten minutes, begging you to come back and sign a check. Admit it!”

  Dalton’s smile didn’t commit to an answer either way. “Have a seat, Colbs. What’s good here, ma’am?”

  “Ma’am! Listen to you boys! Y’all can call me Renee, because that’s my name. Ma’am. I didn’t spend all that money getting my roots done for people to think I’m a ma’am! I recommend the special—now that’s meatloaf, potatoes and gravy, green beans and cornbread, with a little dish of apple cobbler for dessert.”

  “We’ll take two, and a couple of coffees,” said Dalton. He turned to his brother. “I think I’m in love.”

  Colby’s eyes trailed the waitress as she went back to the kitchen. “I’m not sure she’s your type.”

  “With the town,” he said. “It’s so different than the city.”

  “Yes,” said Colby. “For instance, the city has running water.”

  “Don’t you think Dad would like it out here?”

  “We’re back to that? Let me ask you something. When, in the entire time you’ve known Dad, has he ever said God, I really wish I lived in some decaying redneck town.”

  Dalton was aware, as soon as Colby said that, of a certain quiet settling around the diner. Ears perked up to hear what was going to come after that redneck.

  “You don’t have to be offensive,” Dalton said. His mind turned to the three men he’d met today. They certainly didn’t seem like rednecks, especially not Noah. Noah seemed a creature of some other world entirely. What was he doing here? He’d looked mortally offended when Dalton asked him to leave the negotiating table. Made an enemy for life there, he thought.

  It had been necessary, though. If the lack of family ties hadn’t given him an excuse to get rid of Noah, he would’ve found something else.

  Because the guy was distracting. He’d found he could hardly think, while Noah was nearby. He kept glancing over at him to see what he was doing, where he was looking, what he was thinking.

  A beautiful house like that, and yet what caught his eye was a boy.

  “That’s another thing,” said Colby, who had apparently continued to talk long after Dalton had stopped listening. “In the city, people mind their own business. But think of all this town council nonsense. There’s nothing here but gossip and drama. You really think Dad wants that? The man just wants his company back, wants to boss people around, make them cry.”

  How could one man appear so different to each of his sons? It had been one of the mysteries of the Raines family, one that had bothered Dalton his entire life. Was Dalton just wrong about the man he’d looked up to, the man he’d sought to emulate? Was he really the greedy, power-hungry monster Colby saw him as? Dalton didn’t think he could’ve ever respected someone like that.

  There was a wire rack in front of him, with spots for salt and pepper shakers, napkins, ketchup and hot sauce. He found the salt shaker in his hand, unsure of when he had picked it up, rolling the cool glass against his fingers. How had it gotten into his hand? He searched the past few moments of his memory, but there was nothing there about salt. Nothing there about glass.

  “If you don’t want to do this anymore,” said Colby, “then just be honest.”

  Dalton looked up, startled. “What?”

  “You think I don’t see you blanking out at meetings? Your mind wandering, on conference calls? The other day, when we were on with Japan, and I had to remind you when it was your turn to talk. And now this house thing. Dalton, are you thinking about leaving the business?”

  For once, Colby’s tone wasn’t hostile. He wasn’t angry, not using that voice that was sandpaper against Dalton’s soul.

  “…leave? The company?”

  “We’re a hundred-something miles away from home, in a town neither of us had ever heard of until the other day, and you’re talking about moving Dad down here to live out the rest of his life. Does that sound like a man who’s happy with his career, with his place in the world?”

  Before Dalton could answer, Renee had returned. “Now y’all be careful with that meatloaf, it’s awful hot.”

  “I’m sure it is,” said Colby.

/>   “Thank you,” Dalton said.

  “Where’re you boys from?” Renee asked. Then she paused and frowned. “Is there something wrong with the salt?”

  Dalton looked down. He’d somehow worked the top off the salt, and now there was a pile of fine white crystals on the counter in front of him, right next to his plate. “Sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not going through a midlife crisis,” he said. “For one thing, I’m not old enough.”

  For all his complaining, Colby had in fact wolfed down his meatloaf, and pulled Dalton’s untouched plate over. He lifted his fork to gesture. “You’re pretty old. Besides, you’ve got all the symptoms. Some men decide to throw themselves into a new relationship with the au pair, some buy a new island. You’re looking at a mansion whose claim to fame seems to be, what, that hot water comes out of the ground? Meanwhile the thing you’re supposed to care about, the business back home, I can’t get you to concentrate on it for more than five minutes at a time. Ergo, midlife crisis.”

  “I’m thirty.”

  “So, so old. Just admit that you want the house for yourself. Admit that, and I’ll leave you alone. Drop all this gift for my suffering father nonsense.”

  There was no way Colby was going to get it. His view of Dad was just too distant from Dalton’s own. By the time Colby was old enough to pay close attention to things, the business had really taken off, and those trips to Europe had become less and less frequent. Mom still had her month in Paris, sure, and there were business trips and brief weekend stops here and there, but Dad was no longer interested in touring. He had traded in his love of history, his love of soaking in the ancient ambiance of a place, for pushing his company to the next level. And Colby had been right there, soaking it up, believing that their billions were an end to themselves. If being rich was good, then richer was better, and richest was best of all.

  He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Colby about the night of the heart attack. The night when his father had clutched his chest, face red and creased with worry. Dalton had been having a quiet dinner with him, while Colby was off making business deals. God, it had been a nightmare, even with the staff’s help. The ambulance took so much time. The paramedics, coming up to their floor. It had felt like hours.