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“OK,” Elena acquiesced, leading him to the top of the stairs, where she let herself in and led him to the staircase.
“No elevator?” Neal asked, looking around.
“It’s been broken as long as I’ve lived here,” Elena replied. “Don’t worry, it’s only five floors up.”
Neal sighed inwardly, and started the climb. Elena seemed unconcerned and climbed without looking back at him. He was grateful for that, she would avoid seeing him pant. When they finally reached the apartment, Elena led him inside, taking the groceries from his hands and setting them down on the kitchen counter. It was a studio apartment, Neal realized, after his initial shock of seeing her bed positioned just a couple of feet away from her stovetop.
“You’ve got a nice place here,” he said lamely.
Elena rolled her eyes at him, refusing to dignify that comment with an answer. She knew that he was simply trying to get off on the right foot today, but the compliment was so transparent that she wasn’t about to go along with it. There was no room to move, and she hated herself for being so ashamed of the apartment.
“What are you doing here, Neal?” Elena asked.
Neal collected himself. He took a deep breath and leaned against the kitchen counter since there didn’t seem to be any other place to sit, apart from the bed, and frankly, that would be supremely awkward.
“I… this is… I--” he stumbled through his mission.
“Wow,” Elena interrupted his stuttering. “This must be big.”
Neal stopped for a moment, and then he decided just to do it, like ripping off a band-aid.
“My brother may be dead,” he said in a rush.
Elena raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean by ‘may’?”
Neal swallowed. “He was in a plane crash a few days ago. They haven’t found his body yet. He’s presumed dead.”
Elena was taken back. Of all things, she had not expected that.
“I’m… so sorry,” she said quietly, “but I still don’t know how this concerns me.”
Neal nodded. “My brother is the president of Hargrove Brothers and Company. My father held the controlling stock in the business, and when he died, it passed to George. The board has just declared that if George is not found in ninety days, they will declare him dead and take
his stock, and essentially the whole company.”
Neal paused there, letting that sink in while Elena tried to process what she had heard. She was still not sure why he was telling her all of this. It had no connection to her whatsoever, but she was starting to feel sympathy for him. He looked so distraught. So lost.
“So… you will lose everything if the board takes control of the company?” she asked.
“Yes,” Neal said softly.
“Does that mean you would lose your shares?”
“No,” Neal admitted. “I’d still keep my investments. I’d still get my money.”
“Then… why do you care what happens to the company?”
Neal knew what she thought of him. She had made it very clear the last time, and he knew now that she would have expected him to not have cared about losing the business. He would still have his fair share of money and his inheritance, and the running of the company would be another person’s responsibility.
A tiny voice in Neal’s head told him that there was precedent for him taking that course and allowing the board to take over Hargrove Brothers, but for some reason, he just couldn’t let it happen. Not because he thought he could actually run it, but because he knew his brother would want him to.
“Because this company… my father built it up from nothing. He built it for George and for me. I could easily walk away and let the chips fall where they may… but I can’t do that to George, or the memory of my father. Not after everything they have done for me.”
Elena was aware that her dislike for him was slowly receding into the background. He may have been a moocher, but he was grateful and appreciative, which was more than she could say for several other people she had known. It was obvious he had loved his father, and it was obvious that he loved his brother. It struck her that he was dealing with all of this only days after finding out that his brother might be dead. She found herself moving closer to him, and she placed a hand on his shoulder.
The pressure of her hand was deeply comforting. Neal realized that no one had touched him that way since the news of George’s plane crash. Everyone had relayed their condolences, they had told him how sorry they were, but no one had been there to comfort him. No one had just sat with him so that he would not be alone in his mourning. It struck Neal that he had not really mourned at all. He corrected himself fiercely; he didn’t know yet if there was anything to mourn at all.
“Neal?” Elena’s voice cut through his thoughts. He knew she was curious as to why he had tracked her down to tell her all of this.
