Chapter 9
“Woo-hoo. Oklahoma is a go.”
As Gramp joined him in the kitchen, Aaron pulled their dinner plates out of the dishwasher and slid them into the cabinet. “How do you know?”
“I’m on the Helping Hands email list. I just got a note. And they’re not wasting any time. Auditions are Thursday night.”
“That is fast.” He plucked the water glasses from the rack, trying to shift mental gears. The town musical was not front and center in his mind tonight.
“Don’t you want any details?”
He set the glasses on the shelf above the plates and closed the door. “Sure.”
Silence.
After a moment, he looked over his shoulder.
Gramp was watching him, eyes assessing. “You were quiet at dinner. Bad day at work?”
“It wasn’t the best.” To say the least.
“That collar on the circle blade giving you fits again?”
“No. Today was a personnel malfunction, not an equipment glitch. Martin, specifically.”
Gramp propped a hip against the counter. “What’s got his knickers in a knot now?”
Any other time, the colloquial phrase would have triggered a smile.
Not tonight.
“I have no idea. When he wasn’t holed up in his office, he was barking orders and finding fault with everyone and everything. I had to sweet talk a couple of the guys out of calling it quits.”
Gramp shook his head. “Martin’s changed a lot since I worked there. Back in his earlier days at the mill, he was friendly and eager to please, despite the fact his father was a hard taskmaster.”
“That’s how I remember him too from the summers I worked there during high school and college.
” Aaron pulled some cutlery from the dishwasher and fitted it into the slots in a drawer.
“But from what I’ve picked up, his personality changed after he took over when his dad retired fourteen years ago.
Everyone respects his knowledge of the business and the fact that he learned it from the ground up, but the crew walks a wide circle around him. ”
“That kind of tension doesn’t create a very pleasant atmosphere.”
“Tell me about it. His dad was strict, but everyone preferred working for him. Even though the business seems to be more successful than ever, turnover is much higher than it was when Mike was at the helm.”
Gramp folded his arms. “It didn’t help when Martin started keeping his distance from the townsfolk after he took over and built that fancy house. It was like we weren’t good enough to socialize with anymore, which was day and night from Mike’s attitude. That rubbed people wrong.”
“I know. After I accepted the job at the mill, I realized it was a whole different atmosphere than I remembered. I doubt all the trouble Lucas had as a teen helped Martin’s disposition, either.”
“True. The vandalism incidents, the underage drinking and driving . . . that had to be tough on the whole family. And Lucas has more or less disappeared. I haven’t seen him once since he went to Texas for college, but rumor has it all of his problems with the law were a wake-up call and he finally got his act together. ”
“I hope so. But if he has, that hasn’t helped Martin’s attitude.”
Gramp reached over and squeezed his shoulder, lines of concern scoring his face. “I’m sorry you have to deal with such an unpleasant environment. Do you ever second-guess your decision to walk away from that corporate job you had in Coos Bay?”
“No.” There was no doubt in his mind about that. “Office work wasn’t a fit. I know Dad wanted me to get a college education, and I’m not sorry I have a business degree in my pocket, but sitting at a desk all day wasn’t for me.”
“You were always more the hands-on type.”
“Yep. That’s why I enjoyed my summer job at the mill.
Coming back in a supervisory role felt right, even if Martin’s attitude leaves a lot to be desired.
” Enough about that, though. Any prolonged venting would only make Gramp worry about him more than he already did.
“So tell me about the show. I assume they filled all the behind-the-scenes jobs?”
“Yes. Katherine is directing, Shaun from St. Francis agreed to be the musical director, and Lauren Collier’s sister is going to be the choreographer. You probably know her from your childhood. Devyn Lee. You two would have been close in age.”
He searched his memory banks. “The name rings a vague bell, but we weren’t in the same class at school. Didn’t she go off somewhere as a kid to study ballet?”
“Yes. I don’t recall the full story, but it must have paid off. She has an impressive resume.” He pulled up the Helping Hands email on his phone and read off her credentials.
“Wow.” Aaron closed the door of the dishwasher. “How did they convince her to take this on?”
“She’s going to stay over the summer while Lauren recovers from her accident. I don’t know how she managed to work such a long visit into her performing schedule, but it’s a boon for our show.”
“You still planning to audition?”
“Of course. And we need to start planting the seed with Isabel too. Are you free Thursday night?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but don’t get any ideas. I’m not auditioning.”
“I already got that message.” Gramp dismissed the warning with a flick of his hand. “But you could provide moral support. For Isabel, not me.”
“Assuming I don’t get pulled into another crisis at the mill like I did Saturday, I should be able to go.
We can talk to her about it tomorrow night, after I get home from work.
Between the two of us, we ought to be able to convince her to at least go to the auditions.
Whether she’ll get up and sing in front of everyone is a question mark. ”
“‘Happy Birthday’ is acceptable for the kids, according to the info they sent. That should be a piece of cake.”
“Not for a shy little girl.”
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed. You want me to finish up in here?” He motioned to the dishwasher.
“No. I’m almost done, and I know you want to watch that PBS program about the Titanic. Besides, the cook shouldn’t have to handle cleanup.”
“If you’re certain . . .”
“Go.” Aaron waved him toward the living room. “I may join you after I finish filling out the work schedule for next month.”
But an hour later, after he wrapped up his task, he was ready to call it a night.
After flipping off the light in the kitchen, he detoured into the living room. “I’m going to turn in, Gramp.”
“Don’t blame you. I would too if I got up as early as you do. Sleep well.”
“Thanks.”
Shoving his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, he continued down the hall, pausing at the door of Isabel’s bedroom to peek through the crack.
She was slumbering peacefully. A positive change from the early days after Olivia’s death.
The question was, how long would her restful sleep last tonight? While the nightmares were becoming less frequent, they weren’t gone yet.
Maybe the summer musical would keep her entertained and chase away the sadness that continued to linger in her eyes, though. She might even make a new friend or two.
And if securing her participation meant he had to show up to offer moral support at the auditions and a few rehearsals, so be it.
He could always take his laptop, sit in the back, and do paperwork there.
It wasn’t as if all the noise and music would bother him.
Anyone who worked in a mill learned to focus despite a background din.
Add in his lack of interest in musicals, and it ought to be a cinch to shut out what was happening on stage.
After all, what could possibly distract him at an amateur theater rehearsal?
He owed Aaron an apology.
Taking out his frustrations on an excellent supervisor had been wrong. And if he kept it up, the man might walk. Which would only add to the mess in his life.
Muttering a word that had crept into his vocabulary far too often over the past fourteen years, Martin Fisher pushed his chair back from his desk with more force than necessary, slamming it into the filing cabinet behind him.
As the sound of splintering glass shattered the quiet, he swiveled to the right.
Farther down, the framed Small Business of the Year certificate from the governor lay on the floor, shards of glass scattered across the planks.
The vibration from the impact must have dislodged the award from the spot it had occupied on the wall for the past eighteen months.
Breath hissing through his teeth, Martin rose, picked his way among the pieces of glass, and lifted the prized tribute.
His father had never received such an honor. Neither had his grandfather or the great-grandfather who’d founded the company.
This award had been proof that the blood, sweat, and tears he’d poured into the company had paid off. That all of his efforts to salvage the floundering business he’d taken over from his father had been worth it.
Only he knew the full significance of this achievement, however—or how much it had cost him to attain it.
And now the glass was shattered, the frame dented, the certificate scuffed.
Kind of like his marriage and his relationship with his son.
How had his life spiraled so out of control?
He set the damaged award on his desk. Crossed to the window in his office that offered a view of the mill floor below.
Second shift remained hard at work at this late hour, but soon quiet would descend and the workers would go home to their families.
Leaving him here alone, in his isolated management perch.
He took a step back from the window, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection from the glass. Let out a slow breath as he examined the brackets beside his mouth, the hard line of his jaw, the two vertical furrows etched above his nose, the flinty eyes.
The face glowering back at him felt like it belonged to a stranger.
It was hard to spot even a remnant of the man he’d been before Dad retired and dumped the mill—and all its problems—on him.