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Thatcher sat at the head of the table in the only chair that was not a folding chair. His was some wooden monstrosity, that couldn’t be very comfortable, but definitely alerted everyone to his status.
On the table in front of him was a binder, and several papers were scattered across the surface. Dispersed along both sides of the table were multiple men, cups of coffee, donuts and napkins.
It surprised Callum to see Thatcher looking so chipper after what he assumed had been an evening of drunken debauchery. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, the alpha poured over the documents before him, preparing for the meeting. Maybe he was a morning person by nature.
The man sitting on Thatcher’s right was the exact opposite. He hadn’t yet met the pack beta, but he assumed the man sitting to the right of the alpha held that role.
He was looking rough. Head in his hands, coffee half empty in front of him. He wore a rumpled shirt that sported the slept-in look and had wild hair and a scruffy jaw to match.
Norman Conners was definitely not a morning person.
Elliot led Callum to the coffee table in the corner. Despite being up until after midnight, Elliot was pretty chipper as well. Apparently, his cousin was a morning person as well.
Having already eaten breakfast, they skipped the donuts, but both opted for a cup of coffee. With so little sleep, he wasn’t going to turn down a second cup of caffeine.
For all his tomcat ways, Callum had been in a pretty good routine before he’d left Drew’s pack. Gym five days a week before work, full eight hours at the factory, a few hours volunteering each weekend at Wildlings. Add in pack runs and booty calls which had kept his evenings busy. He was used to a full schedule, but also a solid six to eight hours of sleep each night.
Coming north had disrupted his routine, so had the weeks leading up to his departure, when he and his brother-in-law Maddox had left their pack to hunt down the stray shifter who had been harassing Drew’s mate, Alyssa.
It had been months now since he’d had any type of schedule. It wasn’t a lifestyle he particularly cared for. He liked predictability.
Taking a seat next to Elliot at the far end of the table, Callum wondered what exactly he should expect from a Monday morning meeting in this pack.
Elliot had recommended he attend, suggesting it would look good to Thatcher, and everything was about appearances here. Case in point, Thatcher’s ugly-ass throne.
Jessop sat on Thatcher’s left, dark rings around his eyes, and his head drooping, much like the pack’s beta. He was clearly in rough shape from whatever had happened the night before.
Rafe, however, was absent. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.
A few more men came in and took the remaining seats, then the meeting began.
Callum sat in silence as Thatcher went through a list of upcoming events and tasks that needed attention.
A downed tree had destroyed a young family’s roof. He instructed three members to remove the tree and bring in two other pack members, who specialized in roofing, to fix any damages to the structure.
He assigned another member the job of helping Susan Conners unload a delivery truck that was expected on Wednesday.
Ms. Maddison’s dock needed to be repaired. Sam Dodgerson’s boat got stranded and needed to be retrieved. Mrs. Daily needed a hand with her plumbing.
Stunned, Callum listened to Thatcher deal with all the problems and grievances. Even with minor items and chores, he was thorough and thoughtful about who he sent to respond to each task.
Men shifted in their seats, but before he called the meeting to a close, Thatcher called out to him. “Callum.”
His head snapped up, his gaze moving from where his thumb traced over the paper coffee cup in his hand, toward the head of the table.
“Thank you for joining us this morning.”
His gaze flicked quickly to Elliot, then back to Thatcher.
“I take your presence to mean that while you’re here, you’ll be volunteering your time?”
Clearing his throat, Callum considered his answer, but ended up just nodding.
“Great. My mother and the members of her horticultural society need some extra muscle today, lugging soil and tools and stuff. She said something about clearing a bunch of bricks and rocks from a new bed they want to turn into a community garden. You can handle that?”
“Of course. Not a problem.”
“Great. Her name is Anna. She’ll be waiting at her cabin. Elliot can take you there this morning before he meets with the recruits. And Elliot,” Thatcher said, pulling his cousin’s attention, “While I appreciate the extra set of hands, Callum is not to sit in on your meetings with the Curusm committee. Am I clear?”
