“So you get to decide when she worries, and what I should worry about as well.” He nodded, although his jaw ticked. “When were you going to tell me the accounts are empty?”
The silence between them swelled with the pain of the previous year, the secrets suddenly laid bare. “How—” Callum pushed through his dry throat, “how did ye ken?”
James’s head dropped, as though he’d been holding out hope that his suspicions were wrong. “You kept the ledgers locked in your desk. I was suspicious.”
“Ye picked the lock?”
“Not a challenge for me, you know that.” James sighed, propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “What happened?”
The omnipresent weight on Callum’s chest developed talons that sunk deep into his flesh. “Uncle Rory took out loans three years ago, when the storms came through and damaged the yard. He planned how he would make the money back, but…” Callum hesitated. “I didnae ken there were other men, people he had to pay. It was more than we could afford.” The claws in his chest seemed to recede, his lungs opening a little more with each word. “I found out when he passed, and I—I’ve been trying to get us back to rights since.”
James’s features were hard. “But you didn’t tell me. Or Mam.”
“Ye were mourning Uncle Rory,” he whispered. “I didnae want to cause ye more pain. I thought I could—”
“Fix it,” James interrupted, shaking his head. He leaned back in his chair with a dismissive snort. “You think you can fix everything, but never give me a chance to help.”
“It was my responsibility—”
“How in God’s name ismycompanyyourresponsibility?” James bellowed, and Callum recoiled at the force of his words, the bitter truth ringing in each syllable.
“Because yer family took me in, treated me like a son, and then I—“
“If you blame yourself for Ewan’s death one more time—“ James cut himself off with a roar, turning away as he tugged at the ends of his hair. “What do I need to say to convince you it was anaccident? No one but you believes you had any fault.”
Callum shook his head, the familiar panic climbing up his throat whenever he talked about his cousin’s death. “I cannae talk about this, no’ with so much to do.”
James grumbled under his breath, then turned and stormed out the door. But before Callum could call to him, his cousin returned with another man in tow.
Callum’s brows shot together as he stood. “Mr. Grant?”
“Archie, please call me Archie,” the large man said, a wide smile crossing his face as he extended his hand to shake Callum’s. “A pleasure to see you again.”
A glance at James’s stoic expression revealed nothing. “Mr. Grant—Archie, what are ye doing in Edinburgh?”
His blue eyes lit up. “I just arrived this morning, but I’m hoping I can visit the castle this afternoon, perhaps the Greyfriars Kirkyard. I’ve heard it’s haunted and my youngest sister has a fondness for all things ghostly—”
“I mean,” Callum interjected, “why are you here? In my office?”
“Ah, right.” He dug his large hand into an overstuffed satchel and withdrew a folio alongside several bits of paper and what looked like an orange peel. He extracted a pile of papers, split them in two, and laid them out in front of Callum.
Everything in his vision swam and blurred, besides three words printed at the top of both piles.
Bill of Sale
Nausea burned in his throat, and Callum pressed his hands to his desk to hold himself steady. He blinked several times, then met James’s eye. “Ye cannae be doing this.”
Archie’s eyes darted between the two men. “Gentlemen, I’ll leave you to review the contracts. If you need—”
“Thank you, Archie,” James barked, and waited until the man left the room, snapping the door shut behind him, before speaking again. “Your insistence on martyring yourself for this business is tearing what remains of our family apart, Callum. I’m unhappy, Mam is unhappy, and you’re bloody miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.”
James scoffed. “Don’t bother lying. I’m giving you a choice.” He pushed the first pile of papers forward, then laid a pound coin on top. “You can buy me out for the price of one pound. You’ll become the full owner of Taggart Maritime, with all its debts and obligations, and continue running things as you have been.”
Callum was certain he would vomit. “James—”
“Or,” he pointed to the second document as though Callum hadn’t spoken, “we can sell it to a third party. I found a buyer, a friend of Trembly’s, who sees potential in what you’ve created andwill take on the debts. We wouldn’t make much from the sale, but we wouldn’t be burdened any longer. Either way, I’m done, Cal.” James’s voice shuddered on the last sentence.
