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Sam would not understand. Fuck that shit.
“That’s the problem, Dad. You’d pull the rug out from under Sam in a second. That’s not right. I don’t want to work in a place that would do something like that.”
That’s one of the reasons I’m unemployed now.
“Are we talking about ethics?” his father scoffed, tossing back the rest of his whiskey. “How much ethics do you have at that cutthroat Wall Street firm you work for? You take money from widows and orphans. Make money off of people suffering and dying.”
“That’s your argument?” Zack asked, incredulous at his father’s pure gall. “It’s okay to screw your own son - your own flesh and blood - because everybody does it? Jesus, Dad. That’s some cold shit right there. Do you trip blind people, too?”
“I just want the best for the business,” Joel argued. “It’s been in our family for generations, and I want to see it endure for many more. You know more than Sam. You’re better than he is.”
Apparently, Joel wasn’t pretending to love all his children equally anymore. Zack had always known he was his father’s favorite. He sure as shit hadn’t courted that favor, but he still was. Joel had always tried to put up a facade that he cared about all of them the same, but the veneer had been stripped away simply leaving the truth out in the open.
Zack had never truly understood why Sam had gone into the family business. His younger brother had always thought that he could get their dad to love him, but he didn’t realize that Joel’s emotions didn’t have a thing to do with him. There wasn’t anything on this earth that Sam could do to gain his father’s approval. Not one thing. Just as there wasn’t anything Zack could do to lose it.
“I doubt I’m any better than Sam. And I certainly don’t know more than he does about running Winslow’s. I do know one thing though. He cares a hell of a lot more about the firm than I do.”
It was like talking to a brick wall. Joel wasn’t going to give up.
“Think about it, son.”
“I’ve already thought about it. I won’t help you hurt my little brother. If you want to stab him in the back, you’ll have to do it on your own.”
Without waiting for Joel’s reply Zack slapped his drink down on the desk, turned on his heel, and marched out of the house and down the front porch steps. If he’d stayed, he would have had more to say. None of it would be helpful.
He’d go to the wedding tomorrow, act like he didn’t disapprove, and then get back in that rental car and drive somewhere.
Anywhere. It didn’t matter the destination.
He just needed to be far away from Winslow Heights. Maybe he’d find himself somewhere along the way.
* * *
Lucy Gilbert adjusted a stack of books on the front table for the fifth time, still not quite satisfied with how they looked. A bestselling author had written a new mystery, and Lucy was setting up a display in the middle of her bookstore.
“You’re a perfectionist,” her friend and employee Jane teased. “It looks great. I love the cover, too. I think this one is going to fly off the shelves.”
“It’s definitely intriguing,” Lucy agreed. “It’s on my to-be-read list. Just as soon as I finish that thriller I started last week.”
There was a reason Lucy owned a bookstore. All the books she could read and then some.
“Speaking of intriguing,” Jane giggled, looking over her shoulder to ensure that no one was listening. “Mary told me that the Winslow kids are back in town for the wedding. She saw both Zack and Frankie.”
Mary ran the most popular hair salon in Winslow Heights. It was also the best place to catch the latest gossip, along with the cafe, and the oil change-slash-tire place on the corner.
Yes, men gossip just as much as women do. They might even be worse.
“I’d hardly categorize Zack and Frankie as kids,” Lucy replied. “He’s about thirty-six, and I think she’s thirty or so. And did she see them? Because she’s been open all day and if they just flew in…”
“Okay, she maybe didn’t see them herself. But there have been sightings.”
“You make it sound like Bigfoot and the LochNess Monster. Zack and Frankie grew up here. It’s not a shock that they’ve come home for the wedding.”
Jane’s brows shot up.
“C’mon, everyone knows that the Winslows are divided about Papa Winslow marrying his late wife’s sister.”
Sadly, that was true. It was a bit unsavory, to be honest. Lily Winslow had been declared dead a few years back. A decade ago she’d gone to a doctor’s appointment and then the grocery store. She’d never come home.
