Chapter 2
Samuel
Tip #2: Display memorabilia of you together to the public. (Patience might be a virtue, but passive-aggressive wall art is an art form.)
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples as I tried to chase away the last remnants of a headache. Outside, fat snowflakes floated through the dark night sky and occasionally spattered the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office.
My Warner Print office was comfortably furnished, if not a little sterile. It had everything I needed to get my work done, which seemed to be all I did lately.
The only decorative piece in my office that gave it any kind of personality was the giant canvas-printed photograph that hung on the wall. It was of Natalie and me shaking hands in front of the new furniture Warner Print had purchased for the Fox Creek Public Library with the first donation my family’s company made.
Natalie, with her long, wavy brown hair and expressive green eyes that were easy to get lost in, was a dead ringer for the beautiful girl-next-door type. However, in this photograph she looked like she was ready to eat glass. (When I’d carted the blown-up image to a Friends of the Library meeting and informed her I was hanging it in my office, she’d turned scarlet with anger.)
“Such fun memories,” I mused.
I looked over the stack of completed project folders on my desk that I had plowed through that workday. The Warners were notorious workaholics, and I was no exception. I glanced at the clock and rolled my shoulders, shaking off some of my stiffness.
There wouldn’t be more than a couple cars left in the underground parking lot by this late hour, and I’d bet they all belonged to members of my family.
“Maybe I should just move in here,” I muttered.
It would certainly save me some time commuting, but the idea of never leaving the office didn’t exactly thrill me.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. “Come in,” I called.
Isaac, my twin brother and the financial genius behind Warner Print’s success, entered the room first, with Miguel, my excellent but somewhat bossy executive assistant, right behind him.
Miguel smoothed his meticulously groomed goatee as he eyed me and the stack of folders on my desk. His coat was draped over one arm, signaling he was about to leave for the night.
“Samuel, since you seem to have made it your goal to die from overwork,” Miguel started, “I brought Isaac along to play the angel of death for you.”
“Nice of you to join me in purgatory.” I raised an eyebrow at Isaac. “But surely you have better things to do?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Isaac adjusted his glasses, which gave him a distinguished air that suited his role as chief financial officer. “My evening is just as thrilling as yours.”
Although Isaac and I were identical twins and although we both were almost always stuffed into suits tailored to our matching heights and builds, Isaac exuded an intelligence I couldn’t have copied no matter how hard I tried.
“You both need hobbies,” Miguel said, his voice sharp. “Something to pry you away from this place at a decent hour.”
“Your advice is noted.” I mock saluted him. “Now go home to your husband and let us workaholics continue our descent into madness.”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Miguel gave us a knowing look before leaving, closing the door behind him.
Isaac sat down in the comfy armchair positioned in front of my desk. “Speaking of work, I’ve identified some new risks that will require changes to next quarter’s cash flow management.”
I groaned. “Seriously? I thought we’d finished all the financial talk for today.”
“Apparently not,” Isaac said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But we can discuss it tomorrow if you prefer.”
“Tomorrow it is,” I agreed, relieved. Then, noticing the slight frown on Isaac’s face, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Isaac narrowed his eyes—gray, just like mine. “I was merely wondering how the meeting with the Fox Creek Friends of the Library went last night.”
“Ah, yes.” I sighed, recalling the tense atmosphere at the meeting. “It went about as well as I could hope for, given the circumstances.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning”—I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs at the ankles—“despite publicly thanking Warner Print, any progress made was purely superficial.”
“Sounds delightful,” Isaac deadpanned.
“Natalie Mann’s dislike of me continues.” I drummed my fingers on my desk. “It is annoyingly inconvenient.”
“Obviously,” Isaac said. “Expanding Warner Print and increasing development in Fox Creek would be a walk in the park if the Manns weren’t so determined to preserve Fox Creek, historically speaking. Instead, we’ve been at odds since moving here.”
The Manns, entrenched in Fox Creek’s history and community, were stubbornly opposed to the industrial growth and development we Warners would like to see. The families butted heads on everything from deciding which historic buildings should be saved to deciding how the city needed to expand. Our families had never gotten along, and things had heated up as my generation joined the fight.
“Apparently, a quarter century isn’t long enough for Fox Creek residents to consider us locals,” I joked.
“Changing their minds might require another twenty-five years,” Isaac said, clearly not amused.
I sighed and ran a hand through my dark brown hair. “Regardless. Natalie is still just as closed off as she was before we started donating to the library, which means my plan is failing.”
“And?” Isaac asked.
“Do you have any advice or clever ideas to offer?” I tapped my fingers on the top of my wooden desk, some of my aggravation surfacing.
Isaac scoffed. “Sam, I’m the CFO because I like numbers, not people. I leave interpersonal matters and emotional scheming to you.”
“It’s not scheming. Or at least it’s not good scheming or it would have worked by now.” I groaned.
Natalie was a notorious champion of the Fox Creek Public Library. I’d thought the donations would be sure to win her over, or at least make her less suspicious of my actions.
“Don’t worry too much about it,” Isaac said, his tone more sympathetic. He knew the years of effort I’d expended on Natalie and her stubbornness.
“Easy for you to say.” I reluctantly stood, pushing my desk chair back. “But if I want to make any progress on my plans, I need the opportunity to act. Natalie, unfortunately, won’t give me an opening.”
“Then wait for the right time,” Isaac said. “She’ll have a moment of weakness. It’s inevitable. That will be when you strike.”
“I hope so.” I glanced at the canvas print of my triumphant grin and Natalie’s poorly disguised grimace. “But patience hasn’t done much for me over all these years.”
“You could take a class,” Isaac wryly offered. “The internet is a wonderful place. Surely someone has a seminar or online masterclass on learning how to efficiently communicate with and win over your lifelong rival.”
I rolled my eyes. “You better stick to numbers, Isaac. You’re terrible at life advice.”
Isaac stood up with a smirk. “You were the one who asked me. I’m just telling you what I think.”
“Yeah, that was my mistake. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again,” I said. “Come on, let’s finally call it a night and head home.”