Chapter 37
Gage
After the funeral, Logan dove into work.
He decided to let his grandfather’s bar run, taking my advice to give it a year.
He did go in and assure the employees they were fine, no one was getting fired, and to just keep doing their jobs.
It relieved many, and while he was a tad busier, bouncing between both bars and all, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.
He was fortunate to have good managers at both locations.
It had been two weeks since the funeral, and things were, for once, going in a positive direction.
Cooper was steadfast in his therapy and rehab, and he was even doing something like—le gasp—making goals!
I drove him to rehab half the time, as obviously he couldn’t drive yet, and he Ubered the rest of the time on my dime.
The extra expense was fine, so long as he went.
I wished I could have afforded an inpatient rehab, but it was way too expensive.
Literally ten times the cost and his insurance (he was still on Mom’s insurance) wouldn’t cover it.
They’d covered the hospital bills but not this.
So, we had to settle for an outpatient rehab.
I’d been nervous about the chance for regression, but Cooper was adamant about turning his life around and he was really sticking with it.
He seemed to be making physical progress, as the anxiety and jitteriness had died down, and he was able to sleep better as the injuries healed up.
Tonight, we had a family dinner at my house, as I’d offered to cook something for everyone. I expected people very soon, in fact.
Cooper wandered into the kitchen, phone in hand. “Hey, bro.”
“Hey. How was your therapy today?”
“Good? Overall? I get a lot of ‘What the fuck did you just say?’ faces from my therapist. I apparently am lucky to have survived all the shit I’ve done.” Cooper scratched his scalp. “I’m starting to realize I was stupidly reckless.”
“It’s called maturity. Glad it finally hit you.”
“Did you do stupid shit as a teen?”
“Bro, I ate crayons on a dare, okay?”
He snickered, grey eyes dancing. “Yeah, that makes me feel a little better.”
One of the things I was working on was tearing down this image in Cooper’s head that I was this oh-so-perfect child. Moments I could share where I did stupid shit seemed to help.
“Oh! Therapist wants you to join next session, if possible. She has questions for both of us.”
“Sure, just tell me the day and time.” I was more than happy to participate.
Not to mention it would give me some experience before I started my own therapy in about two weeks.
Logan showed up with Erin, and Cooper was happy to sit at the table and eat a homemade meal. It paused our conversation, but that was fine for now. I was happy with the update.
I dished up some Hawaiian Haystacks, as I called them—layers of rice, chicken in gravy, plus nuts and fruits as my whims suited. It was a great thing to make for a crowd, and filling, plus usually there was enough left over for lunch tomorrow. Win-win.
People loaded their plates before I had a chance to catch up with Logan. I snuck in a kiss while the siblings were distracted. “Hi. Good day?”
“Pretty good.”
He certainly looked more relaxed, less the walking stack of pain he’d been last week. “Managing both bars still fine?”
“Yeah, fortunately. If anything, it’s getting easier as I figure out how they operate and introduce myself to all the staff. There’s just one thing.” Logan pursed his lips, looking a bit perplexed. “Never thought I’d say these words in my life but…I’ve got too much money.”
“Uh…okay?”
Cooper snorted. “How can you have too much money?”
“Crazy as it sounds, kinda the situation. So, along with the bar, I got the business account linked to the bar. Kinda have to, it’s part and parcel, right?”
Oh shit. I had a better idea of where he was going with this now.
“The thing is, Grandfather worked the bar for decades, and after Grandmother started cheating on him, that’s all he did.
Work. No hobbies, no vacations, nothing.
Just worked. He stopped paying for anything not directly household related, too, forcing his wife to pay for herself.
So money just kept accruing, and the bar makes good money as it is. ”
“I have no idea what a bar actually makes,” I admitted. Finances weren’t something we’d talked about before.
“Oh, well, after expenses and all, I make about two hundred thousand a year.”
My jaw dropped. “Holy fuck, you’re making good money.”
“That I am.” His chest puffed out a bit.
He was pleased with himself, as he should be.
“Granted, the first two years or so, we weren’t pulling that kind of money, but it’s grown to that.
Seems like it plateaus about that mark, too, as it’s what Grandpa made—anywhere between two hundred and two hundred and fifty thousand. ”
Cooper let out a low whistle. “Bro, can I own a bar when I grow up?”
I laughed, because he was mostly joking but… “There’s definitely worse careers out there. So, Logan, dare I ask how much is in that account?”
“Over a million.”
The figure didn’t make any sense at first. Then my jaw dropped once more, leaving me spluttering. “Are you fucking serious?!”
Logan shrugged. “I stared at the account for a long-ass time, hon. Pretty sure I didn’t hallucinate it. You see now what I mean. What the hell do I do with all of this money?”
Erin swallowed from her glass before setting it down and twisting a little in her chair to look her brother dead in the eye. “You do what Grandpa should have done.”
Logan’s head cocked, brows beetled a little with confusion. “Explain.”
“Most grandparents, y’know, if they can afford to?
They help their grandchildren financially.
College, weddings, first cars, first houses—they help them so they’re not struggling so bad.
Especially in this economy, if Grandpa had that kind of money just lying around, he should have helped all of us. ”
Erin raised a good point. It wasn’t like people were obligated to give vast amounts of money to their grandchildren, but more that the practice was common. Grandparents, generally speaking, adored their grandchildren and wanted to give them a leg up in life.
Cooper surprised me by saying, “I think it’s wrong he didn’t leave anything to the rest of the siblings, just because he didn’t think your dad was his. It was selfish to leave something to Logan and not anyone else.”
Erin snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Exactly. It was hurtful and rude! I realize he had his own issues going on, but ignoring all of us on a suspicion is just…wow.”
Tapping a finger on his lips, Logan stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Huh. Yeah. That would be a great use of it. Gage, second opinion.”
“Hit me.” He’d done this often over the past week, using me as a sounding board for decisions, and truthfully? It thrilled me to my toes, him trusting me that much.
“Should I divvy up the money between all my siblings and be done with it?”
“You could, and there would be nothing wrong about doing so. But, I would consider the rising generation too. You said you’ve got nephews and nieces?”
“Right, eight in total.”
“Start an education trust fund for each of them,” I suggested. “As kids are born, continue doing so. That way they’re set. They won’t be in a ton of debt when they’re done with school.”
“Oooh,” Erin breathed out, delighted by my idea. “Yeah, do that. How much, though, Gage?”
“I would say, don’t open savings accounts, but stock trust fund accounts. Hire someone to manage them, and start each account at, perhaps, twenty-five thousand. The kids are all young, after all. You’ve got time to let those accounts mature.”
“This is why I asked you,” Logan said with blatant relief. “You know this financial stuff so much better than I do.”
“Mostly because of Riggs, not going to lie. If there’s a spreadsheet involved, it has his full attention.
Anyway, I say each of your siblings gets a cut of the money, and each child gets a trust fund.
I do caution you, leave at least two hundred thousand in the business account.
Just in case a disaster strikes, say, or you have a couple of lean years. Money spends fast.”
“Also good counsel. Thanks, hon, I’ll definitely do that.” He pulled his phone out and started typing numbers in. “So if I give each great-grandchild twenty-five thousand, that’ll be one hundred thousand altogether…”
I let him play with numbers. If my internal math was right, each child would get a hundred thousand dollars, which was no small amount, and hopefully could pay down some debts or let them buy a car.
Maybe even buy a house. I was pretty sure Logan would use his money on renovations for his new bar, but he could surprise me.
Either way, his money, he could do with it what he wanted. I knew he’d likely do something sensible. Logan wasn’t the type to chase luxury. Not when home comforts meant so much more to him.
Erin looked at the numbers, thinking. “My money will pay for my education, looks like.”
Knowing her goal, I asked, “How long does it take to become a mechanic?”
“Baseline, two years, but if you want the certifications that get you the good-paying positions, it’s more like three or five.”
“Ahh. Then yes, you’ll need that money to pay for school and living expenses.”
“Yuppers.”
I thought it cute she used the same term Logan did. He rarely ever said okay. It was always alrighty, yuppers, or okeedokalee. Siblings really did rub off on each other. Well, sometimes. My own brother being the glaring exception.