33. Jake
Jake
It occurs to me that there is one loose end.
There’s a lot of time for details to occur to me, given that I spend Friday night and most of Saturday morning staring at the ceiling of the bedroom in the townhouse.
It’s a perfectly good ceiling, if one undeserving of such a prolonged scrutiny.
White. Flat. Smooth. Devoid of stains or evident leaks. What more can one want from a ceiling?
Expectations of people can be so much more complex. Mackenzie challenged me to do things for people I like, not just people I dislike, but there is one person I dislike who I’ve overlooked.
Well, maybe I’ve tried to forget about my embittered youngest brother, Ethan.
Maybe this is a good day to fix that.
That’s not just my kindness motivating me – such as it is.
It’s the simple fact that I need family consensus on Monday that my compromise legacy plan is a fair one – and if they nix it, I don’t have a fallback plan, and Candace may lose the house, and that particular sequence of events isn’t one I want to experience – and I’ve realized that Austin isn’t the only one who might act out of spite.
I have the bill from the body shop to prove that.
I can’t do anything about Austin except hope for the best. He’s never available, and wouldn’t listen to me even if he was. There is no one less interested in the collective good.
But maybe I can talk to Ethan.
It’s Saturday. I call the house, but Candace says Ethan didn’t come home the night before. She doesn’t know where he is but is unconcerned. “He’s a grown man, Jacob. I don’t require him to report in all the time. He’s free to live his life!”
Fair enough, but that doesn’t help much.
Maybe he has a lover.
I call Mike but he just snorts. “I know where you won’t find him. He won’t be at Cavendish Enterprises on a Saturday.”
“Has he been showing up for work?” Our father gave Ethan a job at the company business before he died – actually, he gave Mike’s job to Ethan, the way I hear it, thus precipitating the entire argument that led to his heart attack and death.
“He flits through. I catch a glimpse of him maybe once a day.” He sighs. “Dierdre thinks I should fire him and be done with it, but that seems harsh.”
Dierdre is the office manager at Cavendish Enterprises, a smart organized woman old enough to be my mom who has a moral compass set in concrete. I like her. A lot.
“It would be harsh, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be right.”
“Repercussions, Jake. Ethan is all about getting even and we’ve both got enough to do.”
I’m reminded that I’ve been concentrating on the personal side of my dad’s legacy instead of Cavendish Enterprises, which is a legal entity in itself, of course, if one of his creation.
It can rumble along until our October board meeting, I think.
My father’s demise left the corporation to his three older sons, which means Mike and I have a controlling share.
I’m avoiding the issue of Austin’s legacy, but I’ll get to Austin in time.
I’d like to have an idea of what to offer him for his one-third share before initiating that discussion.
First, Ethan.
“Any idea where I might find him?”
“On a Saturday morning?” Mike ponders this and I hear women’s voices in the background. Sylvia and their daughter, Sierra, undoubtedly.
“Candace says he stayed out last night.”
“Oh, then he would have been drinking in Havelock with his buddies, and that means he’s hung over.”
This is apparently so routine that Mike knows the script.
“Then they’ll go to that breakfast place in Havelock. You know the one. Monty’s Diner.”
“Is it still there?”
“Yup. Then he’ll come home and either sleep it off or head to the orchard.”
“The orchard?”
“Dad let him plant a bunch of fruit trees on a bit of scrap land. It’s beside the ravine near Greenhouse Seven. Sloped and rocky land. Too small an area for a greenhouse. Ethan planted a double line of fruit trees there a couple of years ago.”
“Why?” I am astonished that Ethan showed that much initiative but not surprised that his actions make so little sense. Of course, no one says that he actually planted the trees himself.
“He says he wants to make fruit wines. I don’t think much has happened yet, except Dad gave him a bunch of money. He has nice business cards and is supposed to be working on the website.”
“Doesn’t he need to actually have a product to sell?”
Mike laughs a little. “I guess it’s a process. But you might find him there. There’s an old shack there that he’s fixed up a bit.”
I can totally understand that Ethan might want to sleep off a binge somewhere not close to Candace. She tends to flutter and would probably check on him every ten minutes, maybe wake him up just to verify that he was sleeping.
The wedding is at one so I suit up, but leave my jacket and tie in the back seat of the car.
I head over to the so-called orchard, expectations low.
There is a two-track leading along the creek, and a sign at the road.
It is a good logo. Striking and colourful.
I drive slowly toward the shed, which has recently been covered with silver aluminum siding and given a green metal roof.
There is no vehicle, so I park in what looks like a parking spot and get out.
Is Ethan even here?
Do I dare to leave my car undefended in his proximity again?
I lock the car, give it a pat, and stroll toward the line of fruit trees.
They’re young, but I can see fruit on them.
I don’t know a lot about fruit trees, but these seem to be healthy and well-tended.
The vegetation is mowed around them and they’re being trained to grow vertically.
Their leaves are lush and green, and unblemished.
“Come to find fault?” Ethan demands and I turn to find him behind me.
“I came looking for you. Healthy trees.”
“So?”
He is looking for a fight but I don’t want to give him one. “How many do you have?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. I’m just curious.”
“Don’t be.” He folds his arms across his chest and glowers at me. He looks as rumpled as the last time I saw him, if in jeans and a shirt instead of pajamas, and I’ll guess that he just woke up. “Why don’t you just leave?”
I take measured steps toward him. “Because I came to talk to you and we haven’t done that yet.”
“We don’t need to.”
“I think we do.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I don’t want to talk to you.
I don’t want to deal with any of you. I just want to do my own thing, but I can’t even do that now.
” He steps closer and gives me a hard poke in the chest with one finger.
He’s not gentle. It will leave a bruise but I don’t take a step back, and that doesn’t improve his mood.
“And you took my fucking car. You bastard!”
“Not your car,” I say softly. “That’s the detail that matters.”
“I needed the money. Dad said he’d fix it.”
I nod. “Here’s the thing. If you really care about something, if you really want it, don’t let anybody else have any claim to it. That way, you can never lose it.”
He glares at me, proof positive that I’m not getting anywhere, so I step past him to head back to my car.
“Nice trees. Good luck with this.” I unlock my car with the fob and it beeps audibly.
“Nice trees,” Ethan mimicks. “Asshole brother. How am I supposed to make anything happen now? I have no money. I have no car. I don’t even own the fucking land my trees are planted on, but hey, you’re going back to Toronto and leaving all of us to deal with this mess alone.
Good for you, Jake. Well done, Jake. Do you get a bonus for that, Jake? ”
And that’s enough. I pivot and head back to him, seizing him by the collar and backing him into one of his beloved trees.
“If I was going to leave this mess, I would have done it two months ago. Instead, I’m back here all the fucking time, trying to sort it out so you can all continue with your lives of carefree indulgence, just the way Daddy intended.
I’m doing my best to fulfill the intent of his will, without the benefit of any money. ”
“Am I supposed to say thank you, Jake?” he sneers. “Am I supposed to grovel at your feet in gratitude?”
“No, but you could refrain from damaging my car.” I give his collar a shake and let him go. “How old are you now? Thirty?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“But you’re acting like a six-year-old.”
“Expensive repair?”
“Yes, but who cares? All that matters is that you and Madison and Candace spend what you want and do what you want forever and ever and ever.”
“While all you want is to leave Empire forever.”
“The prospect has an appeal.”
“What’s the call about Monday?”
“My attempt to give you all a legacy. Something instead of nothing. It might not work. Any one of you can veto the scheme.”
“And then what?”
“And then no one gets anything, unless all the property sells and there is suddenly a vast pool of cash to divide amongst us all.”
He snorts. “This is Empire and most of those properties are dumps.”
“Exactly.” We’re standing about six feet apart, glaring at each other. “What do you want, Ethan? What will it take to get that chip off your shoulder?”
He sneers. “You even say that as if I’ve made up a problem.”
“I find it hard to see any cause for your attitude, but whatever.”
His eyes flash but that’s enough.
“My mistake thinking we could talk it out,” I say, then turn away to walk to my car.
“You know what I want?” Ethan roars just as I’m opening the car door.
“I want respect. That’s what I want. That’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted from you and Mike and even Austin, but all I get from you is, I don’t know, disdain.
It’s like it’s not even possible for me to be worthy of being your brother.
It’s like I never had a chance to be part of your family. It’s like I’m nothing!”
Were we too hard on him? Maybe. I remember him mostly as being so much younger than us that he wasn’t interesting.
I count it out. There’s ten years between me and Ethan, as well as a vast difference in privilege and parental expectations.
We were kids. He and Madison were showered with gifts and benefits.
We were scraping for crumbs. It was unlikely we would ever be friends, and less likely that we’d admire or respect the golden children.
“Well, the funny thing about respect is that it has to be earned. No one gives it to you, like a gold star for attendance.”
“Fuck you, Jake!”
“Tell you what. I’ll send you the bill for the repair on the car. And if you pay it, I’ll respect that.”
“I can’t pay it and you know it!”
“And that’s the problem. You’re acting like a spoiled child who wants somebody else to take responsibility for his actions, and I just can’t respect that. My father taught me not to respect that.”
He’s glowering at me again, but hey, I have no issues telling people what they don’t want to hear.
“It’s not a final sentence, though. You could get your shit together and tell me what you really want like Candace did, and I’ll try to help.
Even better, you could show me a plan of how you intend to make your future happen, just like Madison did, and I’ll try to help you, just like I helped Madison.
But if you’re going to have a tantrum and vandalize my car and scream that life isn’t fair, I’ve got better things to do than listen.
I’ll just walk away from you like a toddler having a meltdown in the grocery store over some cookie he wants, and I won’t look back.
You’re not my responsibility. I’m not obliged to help you.
I’m trying to help everyone navigate this change, but there are limits and you’ve crossed mine. ”
He opens his mouth to shout something – probably obscene – but I get in my car and start the engine with a roar. I have to drive slowly down the two-track to protect the suspension, which is why Ethan manages to land a clod of mud on my back windshield.
I head to the old house to wash it off, simmering all the way. This being kind crap really does take it out of me.
At least it was only mud.
Too bad for Ethan that I can live with best two out of three.
I tried.
Would Mackenzie think that was good enough? I know the answer as well as you do. I’m still thinking.