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Her gaze is steady, focused, and entirely unsurprised.
“The management team took steps, but Dad was the one who spoke for them,” I say slowly. Her mouth tightens.
“I see,” she says. “Well. I was aware of a coup, but I don’t mind admitting, just between us, Weston, I expect you to keep this to yourself. I did not realize it went all the way up to your father. It seems he intends to bankrupt us after all.” Grandmother taps the combination to unlock her desk, withdrawing two sleek, pristine tablets from the top drawer.
“The networks on these are disabled,” she says, handing one to me. “That file there contains our next steps. That is, unless you’re about to tender your resignation.”
Again, it’s not a question. But this time she raises a brow and waits for me to answer.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask. I can always quit. Just walk out the door into the numbing gray fog that’s become my life.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in shock at the information in my hands and the intentions of the woman in front of me. If she succeeds—if we succeed—there’s no good reason Raleigh and Callie and I can’t be together.
That is, if I can convince them to take me back. Christ.
For the first time in weeks, hope dawns, and a plan takes shape in my mind.
Grandmother steeples her hands and waits for my reaction.
“I agree to your terms,” I say. “On one condition.”
Six days later, we’re back in her office, toasting my grandmother’s genius and exceptional good luck that the only snags in the plan were minor.
“The looks on their faces,” she says, sighing, cradling the expensive tumbler—filled with even more expensive scotch—between her hands. “I do not approve of taking delight in the misfortune of others, Weston. Make no mistake about that.”
“But winning feels good,” I say, grinning into my own glass.
“Yes,” she says, grinning back. “Yes, it does.”
The meeting had been riotous, but short. In deference to Grandmother’s age, the entire Retail Division management team had agreed to meet in the guest conference room on the ground floor; at least her age was the excuse we gave. In truth, it was easier to have security escort them all off the premises from the first floor.
Easier, too, to gather their administrative assistants for a “private promotional party” a half-hour later, where Grandmother informed them they’d each been promoted to the position recently vacated by their bosses. The former assistants had been staggered, and I won’t be surprised if they drink the entire contents of the bar we’d paid to have cater the party. I’ve never been hugged by so many women at once.
I’ll have to remember to tell Raleigh and Callie that part, I think, before reality sets back in.
Grandmother had kept her promise, making the one concession I asked for in her plan to take back control of Thorpe Industries. Whether or not my gambit works, well, I’ll find out soon enough.
“You did well,” says Grandmother, setting the glass on her desk. “I’m proud of how hard you’ve worked these past few days, Weston. I hope to see more of this side of you going forward.”
“Likewise, Grandmother,” I say, glibly.
“Don’t get smart with me,” she says, clucking her tongue. “And while I will adhere to my part of our deal, I expect you and your friends to behave yourself with decorum in public. We have an image to uphold.”
“Family values,” I say, sneering.
“That is part of it, yes,” she says, meeting my eyes. “And while I might be too old to appreciate what it is you’re trying to do, I am not so old to have forgotten that sometimes family are the people you choose, not the people to whom you are born.”
Emotion swells up in my throat, and I have to swallow several times before I can speak.
“Thank you for that,” I say.
“You are welcome,” she says. “I expect to see your young lady and gentleman at the company barbecue in the spring.”
I choke on my drink. “You do?”
“Was I being unclear? Weston, really, if you’re going to lead the next generation of this company, I expect you to set an example.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
