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I knew Joe was going to get me that number sooner rather than later. Even if he disagreed with me, he wouldn't disobey a direct order. But until he did get me the number, I had to focus on something else. He was right about that at least.
Ihadbeen obsessing over this, and it wasn't productive. But all morning, instead of reviewing the numbers for this quarter, I couldn't help thinking about the possible acquisition. This was unlike me. Once I decided something, I usually didn't doubt it. I needed to talk to someone about this, and I didn't want it to be anyone from my team. In a split second, I decided to call Grandfather.
I hadn't spoken to him about the company in years, partly because there had been no need for it and partly because he'd never been that involved in Whitley Publishing. But that didn't matter. Grandfather’s business experience rivaled that of Bill Gates, and I knew he’d give good advice. He had excellent instincts. I called his number, but he didn't pick up. That wasn't a huge surprise. He didn’t carry his phone around with him.
They still had a landline, so I called that one next.
My grandmother answered. “Hi, Whitley House.”
“How is my beloved grandmother? It’s Spencer."
"Spencer, darling. How are you?"
"Good, Grandmother. Listen, I tried Grandfather's cell phone, but he didn't pick up."
"He's in the back, reading his newspaper. I'll tell him to reach out to you." She hesitated. "Is everything all right?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"
"You rarely call to speak directly with him. Are you sure it isn't something I can help you with as well?"
"You can. I’d like both of your opinions."
"Excellent. What is it?"
"You know what? Why don't I stop by, and we can talk about it."
"Now you're worrying me."
"It's nothing big. I'm just thinking of a business decision, and I'd like to hear your opinion about it."
"Of course! We'll be happy to give it to you. How long before you get here?"
"Twenty minutes, give or take."
She gasped. "You can't do that. I don't even have time to bake muffins."
I groaned, sitting straighter.
"Grandmother, you don't need to prepare anything. I'm good with coffee."
"It's my privilege as grandmother to spoil my grandchildren."
That always made me feel like I was five years old. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. I already ate, and I don't need anything except coffee."
"Hmm," Grandmother said. "Fine."
Her voice indicated that things were absolutely not fine.
"I'll see you soon," I said before hanging up. I left the office before anyone could interrupt me. My team was used to me coming and going as I pleased. I instructed Joe to forward me the contact information as soon as he got it. On the drive to my grandparents’ house, I mulled the situation over in my mind, deciding on the best way to lay it out.
As a rule, we didn't involve Grandfather in anything that could cause him even the slightest amount of stress since the ER scare. But this would just be an interesting conversation for him, and it wasn't stressful in any way. I parked right in front of their place. I had so many good memories in this house, and I was glad my grandparents still lived here. I couldn't wait for my son to be old enough to run on this porch... or at least take his first steps, which, I guessed, came before running.
My grandfather opened the door after a few knocks. "Spencer, come in."
I stepped inside and looked around. The house smelled like spices... vanilla or cinnamon. Honestly, I had no idea. I always mixed them up. For me, it just smelled like a home should.
"Is Grandmother baking?"
