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“No. We have nothing to say to each other.”
To Savannah’s relief, there’d been no father-son blowup at Rafe’s funeral. The two Caldwell men had stood apart from each other the entire day and never indulged the ongoing animosity between them. She might not have loved Rafe, but Savannah had wanted his family and friends to mourn him uninterrupted by squabbling.
As much as Savannah longed to take strength from Trent’s solid presence at her side, she kept her chin up and a respectable distance between them as they entered the building and strode across the bright, open lobby. West Coast Records had been located here since the ’50s. Siggy had bought the company in 1976.
It had done well for a lot of years, but with the shift into digital, the label had been too slow to evolve and hadn’t developed a solid plan of action to make money in the age when people didn’t have to download an entire album but could pick and choose which songs they wanted.
From what Savannah had come to understand from her own research and what Trent had explained during the flight, West Coast Records had signed a bunch of artists and flooded the marketplace with mediocre music. They were trying to re-create the huge revenues they used to enjoy instead of spending the time it took to develop real talent and accepting that they were going to make smaller amounts than they used to.
Savannah led the way past the unoccupied reception desk toward Rafe’s office. She hadn’t been here more than a half-dozen times, but she knew the way well enough. As they moved through the halls, she noticed an abundance of empty desks. The whole building had a stillness to it that made her uncomfortable. At four in the afternoon, it was possible that the staff had gone for the day, but the lack of personal items at the desks made the office feel like a ghost town.
“Where is everyone?” she asked Trent, slowing down to peer around her. “It looks deserted.”
“Maybe they’ve laid off some people.”
The anxiety that had plagued her for months increased. What if she’d brought Trent in too late? If the company failed, the stock would be worthless. Right now she was using a small income she received from the company to pay the minimum on the debt until she could figure something out. If the label failed, that would dry up. Then, her only recourse would be to declare bankruptcy to get out from beneath Rafe’s massive debt.
On the way to Rafe’s office, they passed Gerry’s.
“Any idea where Gerry is hiding?” Trent asked, arching one eyebrow. His reaction to being here was the polar opposite of hers. The worse things appeared, the more relaxed he became.
“I haven’t been here since I found out Rafe was sick. Maybe Gerry took over Rafe’s office.”
When they entered the president’s office, they found not only Gerry, but also Siggy. The old man was seated behind the desk as if he was still in charge. At the sight of him in her dead husband’s executiv
e chair, Savannah’s anxiety became annoyance.
“What are you doing here?” Sigmund Caldwell demanded, getting to his feet in an explosive movement. Palms planted on the desk, he scowled at his younger son.
“Hello, Siggy.” Trent took a step past Savannah, positioning himself like a protective guard dog. “I’m surprised to find you in the office.” Thanks to the amusement in his tone, he didn’t sound surprised.
“Trent is here because I asked him to come.” Savannah held her expression neutral as her father-in-law’s sharp gaze shifted to her. “I need to know what’s going on with the company’s financials.”
“You don’t need to know anything,” Siggy said.
“That isn’t true. With Rafe’s death Dylan inherits his shares, and I’m his mother. It falls to me to make sure his inheritance survives.” Savannah knew immediately she’d gone too far.
“Nothing falls to you. You are just a grasping woman who took advantage of my son’s illness. If you think I’m going to let you make decisions about this company, you are sadly mistaken.”
“Fine. Then buy the shares back.” She was shaking, but the confrontation with her father-in-law was not as bad as it would have been without Trent at her side. She could never have done this without him.
Siggy looked her over, his disdain apparent. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I pay you to go away? You leave the boy with me, and I set you up somewhere far away.”
It was the deal he’d made with his first wife, Naomi Caldwell. “I have no intention of giving you my son.”
The way Siggy smiled broadcast his skepticism. And given his ability to manipulate both his former wives, that didn’t really surprise her.
“As you said, this company will belong to my grandson one day. The shares are his. I will manage it until he is ready to take over.”
“But you are no longer the managing partner, nor are you the majority shareholder,” Trent pointed out in a reasonable voice.
The instant he spoke, his father’s attention swung back to him once more. “You do not belong here. If you don’t leave now, I’ll have security throw you out.”
“Security? Word on the street is you can’t afford security anymore.”
Siggy’s face grew ruddy. “Get out,” he spat.
“Not without the financials,” Trent retorted. He was as calm as his father was upset. “As guardian of the majority shareholder, Savannah needs to see what’s going on.”
