Chapter 1 #2
A deep frown marred my uncle’s handsome features. “She said what? The only person I recognize here is Sterling Gillespie. He’s the island’s Minister of Finance. These other men, I’ve never seen before.”
“Well, I know she doesn’t want Tinsley to meet Sterling Gillespie. He has to be”—she seemed to think about it—“in his early sixties.”
Moses’s face remained frowned. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. I think we should leave.”
“You think?” The surprise on Lianna’s face was evident.
“I think. I don’t know what my sister’s up to, but I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.”
As far as I was concerned, my uncle hadn’t said nothing but a word. If he was ready to go, I was leaving with him. Before we could even take the first step toward the door, Gretchen announced dinner and asked us to take seats at the table.
“You sit next to me, niece,” he told me. So I did, and I was glad when Sterling Gillespie didn’t sit on the other side of me. Instead, he sat across from me.
Sterling Gillespie was a man who looked every one of his sixty-something years.
His head was bald but not in a sexy zaddy way.
There were hair follicles around the rim of his head that hadn’t yet given up the fight.
His paper-bag brown skin was dry and sallow, despite the fact that beads of sweat pooled on his forehead.
His eyes were dark, small, and beady. His nose was wide, as were his lips.
His chin jutted out, as did his ears. Some men were handsome in their youth but didn’t age well.
Sterling Gillespie was a man who had never been a looker.
My eyes ran over his ill-fitting sports coat as he flashed me a smile featuring gapped, yellow teeth.
The smile I returned barely caused my cheeks to lift.
While Gretchen no longer had a butler, she had obviously splurged on a chef to prepare the evening’s meal.
The chef described everything in great detail as he moved it from the wheeled cart to the table.
I tried not to show any emotion as the main dish, pernil—a roast pork that originated in Puerto Rico—was placed on the table.
Gretchen knew that I was a pescatarian. I only ate seafood.
It was another thing I’d done in protest, as a teenager, over the amount of control my father held over me.
I controlled what I could under his regime, and one of the few things that I could control was what I ate.
After sixteen years as a pescatarian, my body and my mind had built up defenses against meat.
I couldn’t eat it without becoming violently ill.
It was no longer a choice. Seafood was literally the only protein that would stay down.
As they came around the table, I helped myself to yellow rice, peas, and potato salad.
Once everybody had food on their plates, Gretchen started up a conversation about the future of the tourism industry on the island.
The conversation was pleasant enough. Gretchen and Sterling led it, with everybody else chiming in occasionally.
As the chef removed the dishes and replaced the empty plates with glasses filled with tea and coffee, the conversation waned.
Just as I was about to excuse myself for the night, Gretchen spoke. “Now that I’ve fed you, I want to talk about the reason for this meeting.”
“Meeting? I thought this was an invitation to have dinner, Gretchen.” Uncle Moses kept his words light and breezy, but I felt him stiffen beside me.
Her eyes were hard. “Campbell Paper Holdings is in trouble.”
“Campbell Paper Holdings is in the toilet, and you put it there.” Moses locked eyes with her.
She scoffed. “Easy for you to point fingers when you did absolutely nothing to help me save it.” As she spoke, everybody left the table except the Campbells and Mr. Gillespie.
“You’re right. I’ve never had an interest in that company.
Actually, growing up, it was my nemesis.
It was the thing that kept Dad away from us.
I got tired of competing with it for his attention.
Although I’ve never wanted anything to do with the company, both of our sons went to university and have business degrees.
Nolan has a master’s from one of the best universities in America.
Liam was willing to leave his job as CFO to work for Campbell Paper Holdings.
” He pointed a finger at her. “You were too controlling to hand the reins over to people who knew what they were doing.”
“You think I was going to hand the reins over to a twenty-six- and twenty-eight-year old? I used to change their diapers. They weren’t ready.”
“You changed their diapers decades ago, Gretchen. They’re grown men now.”
“I wasn’t convinced that they were ready. I couldn’t just hand the reins over without having confidence.”
Moses shrugged his broad shoulders. “And now there’s nothing to hand over. You may as well sell it off piece by piece and pay off whatever debt you can. Get out from under it, Gretchen.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “That’s exactly what I would expect you to say since you never cared about our family legacy.
” She thumped herself in the chest area.
“I care, Moses. Grandfather and Daddy gave their lives to the company. Murphy sacrificed everything. And all you do is sit on your high horse and judge.”
Murphy was my father, and she wasn’t lying when she said he sacrificed everything. He even sacrificed his entire relationship with his only child.
“Okay.” Moses shrugged again. “Don’t sell the company. Do whatever you want. You always do. I don’t see what this has to do with the rest of us.”
“This has nothing to do with you and Lianna. I only included you as a courtesy. This has to do with Tinsley.”
“With me?”
“Yes, as a Campbell family member with a vested interest in the company, I’m imploring you to help save it.”
“I don’t—” I began before she cut me off.
“Have you met Mr. Gillespie? He’s one of the most upstanding citizens and an esteemed member of Parliament.”
I was in shock. I couldn’t bring myself to form words at all.
Sterling Gillespie smiled a smile that was more of a leer than anything. “She’s lovely, Gretchen. If what you told me about her . . . experience is true, I think this deal will work out in my favor.”
I found my voice. “What favor?” I asked, my eyes wide with horror at what I thought he was saying.
“What’s going on here?” Lianna asked at the same time. “Are you trying to . . . sell Tinsley to this old man?”
“Mind your manners now, gal.” Mr. Gillespie’s tone was sharp.
“You mind your fucking manners,” Moses told him, “and don’t you ever speak to my wife like that again.”
“Nobody’s selling anybody,” Gretchen said finally.
“Then what the hell is this deal he’s talking about?” Moses jammed his finger toward Mr. Gillespie.
“Calm down, brother.” Mr. Gillespie smiled his creepy smile. “We’ll soon be related. I’ll be your nephew-in-law.”
Lianna gasped audibly.
“Sterling is willing to marry Tinsley in exchange for pouring the needed cash into Campbell Paper Holdings.”
“He’s gonna bail it out now, but what happens when you drive it right back into the ground? You don’t know what you’re doing, Gretchen!” My uncle’s anger and frustration were evident.
“I’m going to come on and act as the interim president until we find somebody capable of bringing the company back into the black,” Mr. Gillespie explained.
“Good luck with that, but I’m not marrying anybody. I don’t even know this man. Plus, I don’t give a shit about Campbell Paper Holdings. Forgive my language, Uncle.” I stood up from my seat.
“Sit down!” Gretchen demanded.
I ignored her. In my peripheral, I saw my uncle and aunt begin to stand as well. “We’re going to leave before things go even further off the rails than they already have,” Moses said.