He storms into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
It’s a fair assumption, in a way. Bowen was always in his head more than me and Landry. He’s quieter, like Mama was. She had the ideas, and Dad carried out the plans. But Bowen’s plans didn’t always align with Dad’s. Then there was his interest in gaming and electronics. Dad couldn’t stand to see him sit at a computer when there was work to be done. But why would Bowen think Dad would exclude him? Dad talked about how all this was ours. He taught us to care for it, because it was our legacy. Meredith has been a surprise ever since I arrived. Having her as an equal owner is a fucking shock.
“At this point, I would rather have been left out,” Landry says, striding for the driveway, where the rental pickup he’s driving is parked.
I don’t know where he’s going or where he’s staying, but he needs to cool down. We all do. I have to wrap my head around the ticking time bomb that is what’s left of my family. And a rosy-cheeked woman who’s unknowingly put me between her and them.
TWENTY-SEVEN
CALDER
Bowen rocks forward in his rickety chair. “When are the loans due?”
We’re sitting in the office at the brewery. This morning was like yesterday. We did chores. Cleaned up. Came to look at the books. Landry’s staying at a hotel in Williston, but he joined us at the brewery wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. Meredith was gone from the house before I returned from chores. I didn’t go to her room last night.
“The payments are automatic.” I poke at the screen of my computer.
Bowen had everything transferred from the old laptop to a cloud account, and now I’m basically functioning as a forensic accountant, sifting through decades of financial disorder. Dad was robbing Peter to pay Paul. Transfers back and forth from his personal account, the ranch, and the loans fill the ledgers. Nothing was untouched—savings, investments, retirement—until every cent was drained.
“There’s one due next week.” I hit a few buttons and pull up the bank account with the loan information.
Landry stands in the doorway, working on his phone. We’ve all left companies hanging while we deal with this, so if he’s gottawork when he can, I don’t care. As long as he’s here to add his two cents instead of waiting days to weeks for a reply.
“How is it so high?” Bowen rocks back. “Shit.”
“Interest.” I pull up another spreadsheet. “Bea sent me this. It’s a list of pending orders she put in that we’re on the hook for. Nothing out of the ordinary.” I click on the bank account. “But here’s what’s coming in. The past week was a good week, but what we earned doesn’t cover standard operating costs. The money for the loans is what’s breaking the place.”
A never-ending cycle. Perpetual debt. Instead of making tough decisions like limiting taproom hours, closing it altogether, and concentrating on expanding distribution, Dad kept extending lines of credit. I unearthed more than a few emails warning him supply deliveries would be cut off if he was late on payment one more time. If he wasn’t doing so much local business, the doors would’ve been shut years ago. But he had a good reputation, and he milked it, eventually paying.
Bowen tips his head back and lets out a frustrated breath. “He’s used everything for collateral.”
Glad I’m not the only one in on the discovery of how bad this is, I nod. “Even that car he crashed.”
He props an arm on the armrest and sinks his chin into his hand, drumming the fingers of his other hand on his thigh. “Meredith had to know. Maybe not about the ranch, but Uncle Carlos would’ve said something.”
“He knew it was rough, but he only kept cattle records and made orders. Dad controlled the books there, too, and Uncle Carlos didn’t see everything. Meredith’s surprise was genuine.”
“You’re not exactly objective.”
Anger simmers low in my chest. He’s holding Meredith against me, but I’ve been in business for two decades. I know when someone’s lying about money.
“She says she suspected there were some issues, but when she asked Dad, he told her to butt out. You know how he could be.”
“With us,” he says bitterly. “Not her.”
“We weren’t here to know, and he’d never want to look like he was struggling in front of a young woman.”
Bowen’s scrutiny intensifies. “Seems Meredith’s got you on her side.”
My right eye twitches. We’re discussing financials. Those conversations shouldn’t get emotional, but defensiveness heats the back of my neck. “I’m here to deal with Dad’s estate, and she’s part of it. Thinking she was sabotaging Dad doesn’t help the issue.”
“We’d be foolish not to consider that she could’ve,” Bowen says, “and since she and Sawyer are so tight, we need to assess that angle too. Because part of the tank is the mass of debt Sawyer claims she’s working off.”
I work my jaw back and forth. “He paid for her school. Apparently, they had some arrangement.”
“One that really only benefits her,” Bowen points out, “because it’s going to take decades to pay that shit off at the rate she’s going. An hour here and there isn’t helping. Was she waiting him out?”
I don’t care if she was or not. “We have enough to deal with. The Sawyer issue will wash out when we can sell.”
