Cameron's Contract Read online

  “Well,” I said. “Looks like he’s going to discover Irene’s tattoo.”

  Within a few minutes, Henry returned.

  “That was quick,” said Shay.

  “Got her phone number,” said Henry, sitting back down. “You didn’t’ seriously think I was going to…”

  Shay shook his head.

  I held back on a grin, avoiding eye contact with them.

  Henry blew a cold stream of air on his drink. “You guys are incorrigible.”

  We spent the flight drowning in even more coffee to stay awake while scrolling through Dad’s emails that had gone back and forth between the main office and the board members, hoping to get a feel on their ability to be swayed.

  Mia joined us after taking an hour long nap. We set about reviewing the social media sites, reading communications related to Cole Tea, and looking for any suspicious negative marketing campaigns that might have rendered the business vulnerable.

  “Nothing,” said Henry. “There’s nothing anywhere.”

  Shay held my gaze. “They’ve done this before.”

  CHAPTER 6

  IN THE HEART of Manhattan, nestled in the Upper East Side, rested one of New York’s biggest mansions.

  The surrounding buildings belong to numerous museums and schools and a few other homes owned by the ultra-rich. This imperial structure honored the once popular Georgian vision, with its spectacular façade, and was once the home of my childhood.

  Henry, Shay, Mia, and I stood in the foyer.

  The butler had gone off to let my mother know we’d arrived.

  All of us lined up shoulder to shoulder, and we were equally intimidated by all this splendor.

  This place was vast.

  Early morning sunlight burst into the foyer—an assault on both my eyes and the rest of my senses. I’d still not slept, though was reassured Shay, Henry, and Mia had gotten some sleep during the flight.

  The décor was decadently layered in burgundy drapes, giant vases, dramatic ten foot paintings, and gold plated everything. The designer had seemingly picked up France’s Palace of Versailles and set it down here.

  Over there, in the left hand corner, I’d broken my big toe as a kid when I’d run into that Qing Dynasty vase and it had tipped over and landed on my foot. The vase was fine apparently, and Nanny had kept her promise to never report the mishap to Mom.

  Henry and I had run up and down those stairs so many times as cowboys, soldiers, and alien invaders, sweeping down the banister with alarming speed and keeping the staff busy with our boundless energy.

  I was glad Henry was here now.

  “They’ve redone the place,” his whisper echoed.

  “How many bedrooms?” said Shay.

  “Can’t remember,” I said.

  “That’s a big house then.”

  I nudged Mia’s arm. “We have a pool.”

  “Is the water piped in from somewhere exclusive?” she said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Henry. “Everyone knows the pool is filled with unicorn tears.”

  Mia giggled.

  “Not bad for New York,” said Shay. “Not bad at all.”

  “Richard should be here,” I whispered.

  Shay gave a nod. “Your parents love Richard. We’d have gotten a pass if he’d been with us.”

  “Here you are!” It was Willow, and she hurried across the marble floor barefoot, wearing a flowing white dress. She was the breath of fresh air we all needed.

  Willow fell into my arms and I hugged her. “Good to see you, Will.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” She ran over to Henry and hugged him too, moving on to hug Shay and then Mia. She came back to me and took my hand. “Mother’s not doing well. The stress of it all has been too much for her. Father’s in the study.”

  “How’s he doing?” I said.

  “In denial.”

  “We’re here now. We’ll turn this around.”

  “I’m afraid there’s not much to be done,” she said. “The board visited this morning. They had brunch with Daddy and delivered the news they’ve made up their minds and, well, that’s that.”

  “Dad’s not going to fight them?” asked Henry.

  “There’s nothing to fight. Monday morning they’ll present their vote.”

  “There’s still time,” I said.

  “I’ll go check on Mom,” said Henry.

  “Willow, do you mind showing Shay and Mia to their rooms?” I said.

  “Sure.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “Study.” She looked sheepish. “I’m afraid Mom’s a little old fashioned.”

  “Mom has Mia and I in separate rooms?”

  She bit her lip apologetically.

  “That’s fine,” I said, marveling how two sisters could be so different, with Aunt Rose so open minded and Mom prudish. “See that they’re adjoining.”

  “That I can do. Come on, Mia, let’s catch up. I’m so happy you’re here. Cameron tells me you’re a strong swimmer. We have a pool.”

  Mia flashed Henry a smile then gave a subtle gesture of support to me with her clenched fist.

  Henry, Mia, and Shay headed up the central staircase behind Willow.

  Shay threw me an expression of utter awe.

  I headed off toward the study.

  CHAPTER 7

  DAD SAT AT his desk with his focus on a small marble plate set before him.

  Lifting a few loose tea leaves between his thumb and forefinger, he brought them to his nose to sniff. He was lost in thought.

  His office was full of antiques. That writing desk over there had been crafted in India over a hundred years ago. Those book cases had been shipped in from England and could boast an impressive collection of books written by famous poets, collected from his extensive travels.

  He could point to that enormous globe on a stand and boast he’d visited most of the countries on there. Though not jungles. He hated snakes, so dense vegetation was strictly avoided.

  Dad wasn’t just a formidable business man, he was also a craftsman. I’d often watched him blend teas. As a seasoned teaologist, he created masterpieces that went on to become bestsellers around the world. It was relaxing to watch him work methodically, creating blends and boosting the complexity of flavor, aroma, and taste.

  As a teenager he’d been taught the ancient art of the tea ceremony, just as his father had been, and his before him. An extraordinary legacy.

  And despite my reluctance towards the business, there’d always been a pride in who we were and what my father had achieved.

  “Hey Dad,” I said softly and sat in the chair opposite his desk.

  “Cameron?” He roused from his daze. “So glad you came.”

  “Henry’s gone up to check on Mom.”

  He brushed tea leaves off his fingers. “How was your flight?”

  The formality hurt worse than it should.

  “Pleasant.”

  Turbulent.

  “It’s been quite the experience,” he said. “Lots of activity in the house. Your mom will be pleased you’re here.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Not bad, considering.” He nudged the marble plate toward me. “Sniff.”

  I leaned in, closed my eyes, and breathed in the aroma. “A long walk in the city. Pine trees, fresh cut grass—” I breathed in another whiff— “Christmas in New York.”

  “Good job.”

  “Perhaps I can take some home?”

  “You’re not staying?”

  “I didn’t mean…of course, for as long as I’m needed.”

  “The issue’s been resolved. Not an ideal outcome. Swift but sure.”

  I sat back, stunned.

  I’d always resisted the idea my father and I were alike, fearing I too could be as cold.

  He pointed to the plate. “Baked over charcoal. Leaves from India.”

  “And blended by you.”

  He gave a shrug. “Maybe I’ll move to Kentucky and
buy a racecourse. Willow would like that.”

  “Mom might be a little vexed.”

  “She’ll get over her fall from grace when she realizes what kind of real estate we can get for the same price of this house.”

  “It will be sad to sell this place.”

  “So many memories.”

  Fewer for me after a childhood spent at boarding school.

  He shook his head. “We have the photos.”

  I doubted there were any of me. I took another sniff of tea, suppressing this discomfort.

  Dad stared at me. “I wanted you well out of the way.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Growing up. As a boy.”

  “Understandable,” I said, my voice surprisingly strong.

  “Didn’t want you anywhere near those thugs.”

  My gaze rose from the tea to meet his.

  “When I took over from your grandfather, there was still the residual mafia bullies. Many businesses in New York were subject to the stranglehold of the La Cosa Nostra.”

  “Crime families?”

  “Gambino, Colombo, Luchese, Bonanno, and Genovese maintained order with a strict hierarchy. Their rule was so fierce the very profits they sought could just as easily dissipate when the businesses they crippled went under.” Dad brought the plate back to his side. “Today we merely hand it over to legal.”

  My father’s legal team Blander, Fleiss, and Remington was the very best money could buy.

  “Back then, when you were a boy, they went after the family,” he said. “It was best to tuck you away safely where no one could reach you.”

  Not even my parents apparently, with rare visits and rarer trips home. Which left little sentimentality for this place and its overreaching social splendor.

  “You should have explained this to us,” I said.

  “And scare you? Heavens no.”

  “I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.”

  He looked surprised. “You were always so defiant.”

  Those tea leaves took on a shape, their scattered edges forming fragility.

  “I’m addicted to Cole’s Coconut Tea.” I tried to lift the tension.

  “You always did have a sweet tooth.” He frowned. “You were nine when I first realized.”

  “Realized?”

  “How damn smart you are. We played chess for the first time that Christmas. We were snowed in.” He looked over at the fireplace. “Right over there. Do you remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “You won, Cameron.”

  “You let me.”

  “Didn’t.”

  I arched a brow. “I was excited to spend time with you. I wanted to impress you.”

  “Told your mother that Cole Tea was going to be in good hands. What with your brother’s bravery and your brilliance.”

  “And Willow?”

  “Prefers horses.”

  “All grown up.”

  “I remember finding a stash of dolls under your bed once,” he said. “I was so worried about you. Really believed you were showing signs of…”

  “Homosexuality?”

  He waved it off. “Turned out your sister was going through a phase of pulling the arms and legs off her dolls. You were—”

  “Trying to save them.” I chuckled at the memory of me gathering them up and hoping not to get caught.

  “Blonde Barbies, I think.” He thinned his lips. “Thank goodness she’s over that.”

  “Willow was six, Dad.” I shook my head. “Exploring her world through toys.”

  “We were worried for a while there.”

  “She only did it once.”

  “Because you hid the rest.” He smiled. “You never dated blondes. Always brunettes. Probably traumatized by your sister.”

  “Mia’s blonde.”

  “Is she here?”

  “Yes.”

  He arched an amused brow. “Perhaps this means you’ve finally recovered from your childhood trauma.” Dad sighed deeply. “When I snapped that bird’s neck, I knew you were watching.”

  He’d put that dying bird out of its misery. Ten minutes before I’d found it in the garden and brought it to him, hoping he could save it.

  “A healthy introduction to death,” I said sarcastically.

  “You were too soft.”

  “I was five.”

  He looked surprised.

  “You’re lucky I’m not a sociopath.”

  He scoffed. “Like your father.”

  “Funny. You’re a good man. Dedicated to the business. You’ve made it one of the leading corporations in the world. It’s worth fighting for.”

  “I’m ready to retire.”

  “I know.”

  “I was fighting for every Cole who came before me and the ones who I hoped would follow.” His gaze held mine.

  “There’s still time.”

  “They won’t relent, Cam. They’ve made up their minds.”

  “What do you think influenced their decision?”

  “Profit margins I suppose.”

  “Henry and I didn’t come all this way to do nothing. We’re going to fight to the end, Dad.”

  “Three moves, Cameron.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You won that chess game in three moves.”

  “Luck.”

  “No, you were three moves ahead.” He narrowed his gaze. “You’re always ahead of everyone. That’s probably why we clash.”

  “A healthy disagreement now and again.”

  “Your brother was meant to take over, but you were the one who always showed an aptitude. I know you love your profession, but they’re not so unlike each other. Both of them require dedication.” He raised his stare and held mine. “Mindfulness.”

  “You have my undivided attention.”

  He shifted a thick file across the desk and flipped it open. “Take a look.”

  The names of the board members were listed in alphabetical order on the front page.

  “You speed read?” he said.

  “This is the contract for the board?”

  “Perhaps you’ll find something.”

  I flipped through and caught the number on the last page. “This is five hundred pages. Perhaps have your attorney who wrote it go over it with you?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “Dan Stork suffered a heart attack on the golf course.”

  “When?”

  “Three weeks ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  A headache loomed.

  “Dan inserted some ambiguous wording into the contract. Tucked it away in there to protect me should I ever need it.”

  “He didn’t tell you where?”

  “Died the morning before our meeting.”

  I stared at the file. “You want me to find some vague wordage?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You should hand this over to your lawyers.”

  “They’re focused on salvaging what they can.”

  “Dad?” I sat back. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Our current threat is linked to someone in legal.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “There’s evidence. We tracked the IP address to the legal department.”

  “And?”

  “The account was deleted. IT hit a dead end.”

  “Fire everyone. Hire a new team.”

  “There’s no time.”

  “This is not what I do, Dad.”

  He reached for the file to take it back.

  I pulled it toward me, my mind spiraling. “Cole Tea is important to me. We’re not going down without a fight.”

  He gave a wry grin. “Perhaps you’re my Trojan horse, Cam.”

  CHAPTER 8

  THE LAUNDRY ROOM felt cozy.

  I sat with my back against the Whirlpool washing machine, stealing a moment of privacy, needing time to think.

  I was running on adrenaline and caffeine and couldn
’t remember what sleep felt like. Nausea welled.

  “You’re not staying,” I told myself, as though laying down a lifeline at my feet, ready for when I chose to bail.

  Now felt like a good time.

  That five hundred page document waited for me in my assigned bedroom. The mission threatened to eat up my time. My childhood bedroom had long ago been demolished in a remodeling, though there was comfort in knowing that room no longer existed.

  I regretted agreeing to Dad’s impossible task. There was no time to bury my head in legalese looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. And there was no way to be sure I’d know what it was when I found it.

  I was going to be dealing with the best minds in business—men and women who’d dedicated their lives to the study of capitalism.

  On the flight over, I’d explained to Mia the kind of people we were up against. I’d been psyching myself up too, I realized that now, persuading myself I had what it took to face the cutthroats that surrounded our business like sharks circling their prey.

  Sharks can’t swim backwards, I mused. There had to be some wisdom in there somewhere. Richard loved sharks. Always had.

  I pulled out my phone and searched for his number.

  The heat from the dryers held in here and kept the chill of winter at bay. This big old house never kept its warmth. Over in that very corner, I’d played with toy soldiers I’d borrowed from Henry. He’d already been shipped off to boarding school. I’d run from room to room and not see anyone for hours. A child left to his own devices, but reasonably safe, locked away in this bastion of Cole power.

  How quickly melancholy crept up.

  I pressed my phone against my ear.

  “I heard you’re bailing on my party?” Richard said on the other end.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I left you a message at your office to call me. Thought you’d lost your phone.”

  “I’m in New York.”

  “Manhattan?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted to give you the heads up about your Cole Teas shares. Though I’m assuming your dad might have mentioned it by now.”

  “Richard.” His name came out in a rush.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Hostile takeover. Hasn’t hit the press.”

  “Fuck.”