Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Griffen,” she said, “he lied. For years. To us, to Harvey. He knew. He knew where your mother was this whole time.” Her voice caught. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t. I’ll be able to live with it eventually, but I can’t right now. I know Uncle Edgar is no innocent, but that’s just too much. And I know you don’t want to see him across the table at Christmas dinner.”
Griffen shook his head slowly. “I really don’t. I was willing to put up with him for you, but I need time, too.”
Griffen looked to me, and I sent Hope an apologetic look. “I know Edgar thought he was doing the right thing—he always does—but all those years he watched us living without her, thinking she’d left us, and never said a fucking word. It’s going to be a while until I want to share a table with him.”
Hope nodded. “We can talk about it later, when we’re ready.” She paused, gave herself a little shake, and then smiled at me. “So, what did you want to meet with us about?” she asked. “What’s your plan now that the question of your father is settled?”
“You’re aware that Prentice started a charitable fund a few years ago?” I asked.
Hope’s cheeks flushed again, this time in embarrassment. “That’s been my project. We came across it not long after your father died. We’ve been meaning to do something with it, but we were getting a handle on the business, and then there was Stella, and it’s been on the back burner, I’m sorry to say. Prentice had a few things set up. There are some donations from when he was alive that were questionable,” she said. “We stopped anything like that when Griffen took over, kept the regular donations to the food bank, Laurel Country Day, and a few others. Why do you mention it?”
“I want to run it,” I said. “There’s enough money in there that, if properly invested, we can make it grow while still deploying it. And there’s a lot of need here in the community, locally, and abroad. I’m good at making money, but so are you and Hope and Royal, and I don’t want to step on your toes.”
“Ford, we’d make room for you at Sawyer Enterprises if you want to come back,” Griffen said, and for the first time since we’d been together as adults, I knew he meant it wholeheartedly.
If I wanted a seat at their table, they’d make one for me, and knowing that meant everything. I shook my head. “I appreciate that. But if you don’t have an objection, I’d like to put my focus on the philanthropy fund. Dad used it as a tax shelter, but now it’s ours, and we can use that money to do some good. Here are some things I’ve been thinking about.” I opened the file folder I’d brought and pulled out the presentation I’d thrown together, highlighting local charities I thought could use a boost.
With me at the helm, I could bring both funds and media attention, letting us rope in other donors. I had a lot of plans. I just needed the go-ahead. Once, it would have burned that I had to ask Griffen. Not now. We were a family. We decided together.
When they were done going through my charts and spreadsheets, Griffen held up the file folder and said, “Can I hang on to this?”
“Sure. What do you think?” I kept my tone light, but nerves twisted in my gut. If he wanted his revenge, now would be a great time to smack me down.
But that wasn’t Griffen. And that was the old me.
He grinned. “I think it sounds great. It’s a perfect fit for you.”
“I’ll put some more plans together,” I said, not trying to dim the smile that spread across my face. “We can go over them after the new year.” I stood, suddenly eager to leave the office.
“Tell Paige hi from us,” Griffen said with a smirk as I walked to the door.
It should have annoyed me that my older brother knew exactly where I was going. I shot him the middle finger as I walked through the door, but I did it with a grin on my face, because he wasn’t wrong. I’d been headed down the stairs to the kitchen to find Paige and tell her my new life plan was a go.
I was starting over—a little late in life. But this time I knew I was going to feel good about my work. And maybe, if I could hang around long enough, I’d leave the world a better place than I’d made it up until now.
I found Paige and all the kids, even Thatcher, sitting around the table in the kitchen. The room smelled of citrus and spice. I watched as Finn pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven, covered in—