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"I got some unfinished business to take care of," Callahan says finally. "I'll be out for a week or so. Don't slack off while I'm gone, and don't let that damn fool brother of yours anywhere near anything heavy."
"No, sir," James says. He tries to hide the smile as he turns away.
That kid was always too god damn smart for his own good. Too smart and too involved in other peoples' business.
There's no way that Callahan can leave things with Morgan. Not the way that they were.
He was up late last night, after all. Nobody to get him into bed or make him go. The damn computer kept him up later than he'd wanted. Took near two hours to figure out how to get times for plane tickets.
Now that the boys are settled in, he's going to have to leave soon. The next plane leaves in a little more than three hours, and he's going to have to be in a damn hurry if he wants to get through the security and be on it.
Chapter Forty-Six
It's still hard to say whether or not it was worth it. The pain is still there. But hard decisions always hurt. And most of the time, in the end, no matter how much worrying you did about it, it's worth it.
That doesn't make it easier in the moment, though. That doesn't mean that sitting in your office feeling self-righteous keeps you warm at night. It doesn't mean that you can take it out to dinner and have a good time.
But in the end, when you do the right thing, you know you did the right thing, at least. It just takes time for the hurt to dull a little bit and for your head to clear.
Well, it had been enough time. She should be feeling better by now. But then again, she'd made hard decisions before, but it had rarely had such a personal effect.
Maybe this was just another growth period. Maybe she'd come out of this stronger, smarter, tougher than ever. The business would thank her. She'd thank herself. In the end, of course.
Right now, she couldn't see the forest for the trees. That was all it was. If she had a clear head, then she wouldn't be questioning her decision to leave without a word every morning, going to bed kicking herself because she couldn't see a single reason that it couldn't have worked except her fears and Andrea's warning.
She was a lonely old woman, and as tough as nails, and all the money in the world didn't change that. It wasn't exactly reflective of the life that the Morgan wanted to lead, having a long line of eighteen-year-old cabana boys who were fucking the maid on the side.
But that was the life that Andrea Neill lead and it was the life she was, apparently, happy with.
Maybe she didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. Then again, maybe she did. Morgan had to keep reminding herself of that. She had to, because if she didn't, then she'd be heading back to Wyoming right then and there.
If that was the right decision in the beginning, she was an idiot for having left. And if leaving was the right decision, then she was an idiot for thinking about going back now. Either way, she'd made her bed, and she had to lie in it.
Which just circled back around to the problem, the one that she'd been dancing around for two weeks now: how to get comfortable with the fact that she already made her decision, and now she's not happy with the result.
She can't go back. She can't decide to have stayed in Wyoming sixteen days later. That's not how life works. You make decisions, you accept the consequences of your decisions. It's simple, it's straightforward, and it's painful for everyone. She's not special in that regard.
She takes a deep breath, checks her phone to see the time. There's an hour until she's supposed to make her next report. There's not a whole lot to report. Sales numbers are up, but it's nothing to celebrate. Growth was slowing, and now they're back on course.
The new factories are getting into things on par with expectations. That's been everything on the business side. Every single thing was 'on par with expectations.'
Well, that was wonderful for the business side of things, because on the personal side of things, nothing was going nearly so well.
But that
wasn't going to affect her work, because she wasn't going to let it, no matter how bad she might have wanted to. That would be completely unacceptable. That would be exactly what she'd left Wyoming to try and avoid. And then what a fool she'd look like.
She answers a knock at the door by reflexively calling out to come in, without looking up.
"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"
Brad Lang's got his hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched. He looks decidedly unlike the overconfident son-of-a-bitch that he'd been up north. Maybe he figured that taking a week-long vacation hadn't gone unnoticed after all.
"Take a seat," she says. Her voice is even, and to her great pleasure it doesn't sound remotely one bit like she's upset, which makes her a damn fine actor if she might say so herself.
He takes it without a word.
"You know what you did."
