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"It's a company that has been having some problems over the past year, but it's solid." Harry Teasdale wished he could read the man across the table. The continental breakfast had been dispensed with, and a fresh pot of coffee had been placed in front of him, and he was running out of time.
"You have seen the prospectus as well as the financial reports-"
"I have," Deacon waved that away as he picked up his cup and took a sip. They were in a private dining room, away from the prying eyes of the other diners, and the doors were closed, muting the sounds of business wheeling and dealings going on in the main section of the trendy restaurant.
He had been able to get privacy because his company owned a good chunk of the restaurant, and the owner was a friend. "My question is this - why the hell do you want to unload?"
Harry had been waiting for that question since the start of the meeting and was prepared for it. "I am edging towards eighty." His hands trembled slightly as he reached for his coffee.
"My wife is dead, and my son-" He gulped the beverage before continuing. "My son is a figurehead and entitled. I think it's our fault; we spoiled him. He is married to a woman who insists on shopping every goddamned day, and she does not believe in getting her delicate hands dirty.
My grandchildren are parasites, and they just want to throw me into a nursing home when the time comes. They have been trying to undermine my mental capacity for years without success.
It's time I sold the company, as much as it pains me, and went on a long cruise. I will apportion money to them and give the rest to charity. I am also selling my house, and when I come back, if I come back alive, I will find a nice senior living apartment and spend the rest of my days there."
"I would have cut them off without a cent." The deep voice was mild, the look in the silver eyes complicated, sending a jolt through the older man.
"He is my son," Harry said simply.
"A son who does not respect you. I don't believe that children should be handed things on a platter. They end up not appreciating it or the sacrifice made. The company owns a block of apartments in a very nice neighborhood. There is no need for you to think about senior living." He added brusquely.
Harry stared at the man several magazines had termed 'hard and uncompromising as well as ruthless' and had to shake his head mentally. He might be all those things, but he was also decent. He found himself wishing Deacon Manchester was his son.
"Thank you." He murmured roughly, emotions clogging his throat.
His own flesh and blood were ready to dump him into a nursing home and were eager to do so, and this powerful man, one who had been through tragedies in his life, was reaching out a hand to him. "I want you to buy the company at cost. It does not matter to me about the profit."
"It should." Deacon gave him a knowing look. "Let's not prove that useless family of yours right."
*****
By mid-afternoon, she had relaxed. She was probably in the clear if he had not called or said anything to Jerry by now. Besides, she had no intention of spending her day sitting on eggshells and wondering what would happen to her. She had work to do. She was just settling down to do so when her phone rang.
"You invited us to a last-minute showing? What? We do not have a life?"
She could not help but smile at Angeline's abrupt manner.
"Last I checked, the prick you had been seeing is banging some other piece."
"Bitch. I do have a very demanding career, you know."
"Which is on hold at the moment. It might be fun."
"And for you, it will be a working evening."
"Yes." She agreed. "This author is doing a book on the Colby's, and I am determined to get her to sign with us. What did Sara say?"
"She is in. You know she is all about the glamour and looking to reel in some rich guy. Pity Jackson and his brother are happily married."
"I have met Jerri several times at functions. I have been trying to persuade her to turn her cooking deal into a book. She is a YouTube sensation married to a man like Jackson Colby; it would mean a lot."
"Always working. Don't you ever stop?"
"Never. Are you in?"
"Like you said, I have nothing else going on, and I might just hook up with some rich guy who wants to have sex with no strings."
"Is there such a thing?" Delores wondered.
