39. Mike #2
Maybe proposals are partly about presentation.
Maybe I need to lift my game to get the answer I want.
“You should be taking notes,” Sierra says to me.
“I think every guy in the place is taking notes.”
“I mean it,” she says with heat. “Proposals have to be done right .”
“And who told you I was going to propose?” I leave out the detail that I already have.
“It’s the plan,” she says fiercely and for a heartbeat, my dad’s toxic accusations almost find somewhere to take root.
“Whose plan?” I ask lightly.
“ My plan,” Sierra replies. “And you said it would have been your plan if you’d known.” She meets my gaze in silent challenge and I can only smile.
Sylvia has no scheme to trap me in marriage, no matter what my father accusations my father makes. It’s all bluster on his part.
Sierra wants a traditional family and so do I. That’s not a crime.
“I did,” I agree. “It was. It is.” I nod toward the stage. “But like this, everything has to be just right for it to work out.”
She beams at me. “You’ll fix it, Mike,” she says with reassuring confidence.
I’ll sure try. I just have to make a better plan.
I’m ready to celebrate incremental progress by the time I head across the parking lot to the office on Monday morning.
I went to see Rupert on Sunday and firmed up our arrangement.
The plan is for him to finish the season on the farm, which gives plenty of time for us to work out the financial details, then move to Sarnia in time for Christmas.
I’m thinking I can work out a way to work part-time on the farm in the new year.
I like the idea of making that farmhouse our own and laying the groundwork for a possible future together.
I have to do my weekly greenhouse review today, which will be a long day, but then I’m going to see Sylvia.
I want to take her to dinner in Havelock at the second-best place in the area – taking her to the bistro would be weird – then get down on one knee right in the restaurant.
The obstacle to my plan for Rupert’s place will be my dad, as always, and I’m composing my very rational argument when I’m almost run over by a familiar yellow Mustang. It squeals to a halt in the best parking spot and even though I can’t see through the tinted glass, I know who’s driving it.
Ethan must be short of cash to show up here twice in such rapid succession. Usually, it’s once a year.
My half-brother gets out of the car and stands there for a minute, surveying what’s visible of Cavendish Enterprises with something like pride of ownership. Suddenly, I have a bad feeling. He spots me and strides toward me, hand extended.
“I guess you’re supposed to welcome me to the family biz, but I’ll just congratulate you on your good luck to be working with yours truly instead.” He laughs and seizes my hand.
Ethan is a good-looking guy – we all got the package of dark hair and blue eyes, but he got a bigger measure of persuasive charm, thanks to Candace. He could sell ice to the Innu.
Sadly, I’m not buying. “Excuse me?”
“I work here now.” His smile flashes again and it occurs to me that he’s smiling a lot, maybe too much. Maybe he’s not quite as sure of his reception as he appears.
“First I’ve heard of it,” I say and walk past him to the office.
“Dad was going to tell you.”
“Ooops.” I shrug and carry on, Ethan trailing behind me like a lost puppy.
Dierdre glances up from her desk and I take warning that she’s already arrived. She knew about Ethan. I can tell by the way her gaze flicks to him and back to me. I guess something happened when I was out Friday.
I pretend everything is routine, check in with her, then go to my desk. I ignore Ethan, but he follows me, talking all the time.
“It was Dad’s request,” he says, then laughs again. “Maybe his command. The royal edict.”
I make a non-committal noise and check the production totals from the weekend. We’re maybe a little ahead of estimates. All good.
“You’re not paying attention, Mike.”
“I don’t have time to entertain you, Ethan.”
“You should.”
I look up at his conviction. He’s lounging in my doorway, hands in the pockets of his trousers. Again with the smile and it’s definitely more wary.
He doesn’t know what I’m going to do, which means he’s going to say something I won’t like.
“I’m the new operations manager of Cavendish Enterprises,” he informs me.
Bingo.
I hide my reaction just because he’s waiting for it. “I thought you were CEO of Cavendish Fruit Wines.”
“Oh, yeah, that, too, but it takes time to build success. Meanwhile, I’ll be here. ”
I don’t return his bright smile. “I didn’t realize you knew anything about operations at Cavendish Enterprises.”
“Life is full of learning opportunities.”
I point to Dad’s old office, with the piles of folders still on the desk. “Well, feel free to dig in.”
He looks between the two offices. “I like your office better.”
“Oh well.”
“Yours has a bigger window.”
I look between the two and nod agreement. “That it does.”
“And since I’m your boss, I should have the bigger window.”
Once again, he has my undivided attention. “I beg your pardon?”
He shrugs but he does retreat a step. “I’m your boss, Mike. Dad said.” He raises a hand to indicate a level high above his head. “Dad.” He drops it to his shoulder. “Me.” Then lowers it to his hip. “You.” He makes a sad face, as if it’s a joke.
But it’s not.
I glance toward Dierdre. She gives the tiniest nod of agreement and I see red.
Of course, they don’t need to know it.
“Where is Dad this morning?” I ask Dierdre. “He usually stops by in the morning.”
“Early tee-off with Mr. Bradshaw, I believe. He mentioned it Friday.”
“I see. I’d better get to work then.”
“Full tour today?” Dierdre asks, as if she doesn’t know.
“These boots were made for walking.” I head for the door.
“But you have to show me, Mike!”
“No, I don’t, Ethan. I have to check tomatoes. Pruning and production. That would be my job.” I give him a wave, then find Dierdre right behind me on the way out.
“There was nothing I could do or say, Mike. You know how he is.”
“I do.”
“And I couldn’t see the point of ruining your weekend.” She shrugs. “I thought Mr. Cavendish might change his mind.”
I give her a look and she winces at the unlikelihood of that.
“Don’t you dare have it out with him when I’m not here,” she says and that makes me smile.
“You expect that much of a show?”
“I’ve been waiting for it. I bet he’ll come by this afternoon, near close of business.” She nods. “I think I might need to work late to finish a report.”
I glance back toward the office. I can hear Ethan slamming the doors of the filing cabinets.
Dierdre turns a glare on the door. “If he messes up my files…” she begins.
“Go defend them. I hear tomatoes calling my name.”
She’s right, of course. Dierdre knows Dad better than he knows himself. I come back just before seven, stinking of tomato vines, my hands sore from helping with the pruning. That new cultivar wants very badly to become bushy, but we need to keep the production high.
Dierdre is putting things in order on her desk so fastidiously that I wonder how many times she’s repositioned the stapler.
Ethan is sitting on my desk, sulking as he pokes at my open laptop.
I can see that he hasn’t yet guessed the password, which gives me joy.
Dad is pacing the office like a caged tiger, his brow furrowed.
Here we go.
I step into the office and let the door swing shut behind me. Ethan stands up. Dierdre settles into her chair, unnoticed by Ethan or Dad.
Dad rounds on me. “What is the meaning of this defiance, Michael? How dare you challenge me over any decision, let alone one you’ve been badgering me to make? You should have been here today, introducing Ethan to our systems, not frittering your time away elsewhere.”
“I was doing my job.”
“You said we needed an operations manager and I hired one.”
Ethan smiles.
“I did say that, because we do. But Cavendish Enterprises needs an operations manager with experience. Someone who understands a greenhouse operation of our size. Someone who has worked with an asset base of similar size. Ideally, someone with the finance experience that I lack.”
The curious thing is that I’m calm. The words come together because I’m not angry anymore. I’m not emotional about this betrayal of my father’s. I thought about it all day and I have a solution, and truth be told, I’m done with his whims. I’ve composed my arguments and am changing how we interact.
“And I’ve chosen Ethan,” he crows.
“Why? Does he have credentials I don’t know about? Because if he doesn’t, it looks like he’s just your favourite son and out of a job.”
I know I’m pushing the edge there, but I want him to say it.
“Hey!” Ethan says, taking a step closer.
“I’m sure everyone in the company will appreciate that birthright outranks hard work.”
“You are impertinent…”
I commit the major sin of talking over my dad as I turn to Ethan.
“What was your major at university again? Oh, right, you didn’t go.
You opted for real life experience.” I snap my fingers.
“And what are your gross annual sales at Cavendish Fruit Wines? How many employees do you have? How many seasonal labourers do you have? How much area under cultivation?” I’m playing hard but I’m done.
Bringing Ethan in here to take over is just absurd and I’m not going to keep quiet about it.
“Don’t you belittle Ethan and his initiative…”
“What qualifies Ethan for this job?” I ask my father bluntly.
“And what justifies your making him my superior? I have been here over ten years. I have a university degree and a graduate degree directly pertinent to this business. I have worked seven days a week for a decade, always giving more, always striving, and instead of giving me credit, you insisted I take on a second full-time job with no increase in compensation, and then you pick Ethan to be in charge of everything.”
“I have a plan…”
“That’s great, Dad. Good for you. I hope it all comes together for you.” I watch as his eyes narrow. “Because I have a plan, too.”
“You’ll work with Ethan to bring him up to speed…”
“No. I quit.”
There is a beat of horrified silence. Even Ethan has stopped smiling.
“You can’t quit,” my father says.
I head for my former office, claiming my belongings that are there. There’s not much. “Deirdre, could you work out my salary owing, including my vacation pay? I’m thinking I’ll be getting paid through February or so.”
“More or less,” she says, tapping her keyboard.
My dad is looking between us, fuming so visibly that I expect steam to come out of his ears.
“And maybe charge me for the laptop. I have a lot of personal stuff on it and need one myself. ”
“It won’t be worth much now. It’s four years old.”
“Right, and Ethan will need the latest and greatest, so this one is no use to you. The company files are all on the cloud server.” I smile, turn and head for the door.
I could dance out of here, I feel so much lighter.
Ethan is gaping at me. “Good luck,” I say to him and his eyes widen.
“Dad watches the bottom line to three decimal places, by the way.”
Dierdre has gathered her belongings and, in a remarkable coincidence of timing, is also heading for the door.
Dad begins to sputter. “You can’t do this, Michael Edward Cavendish. You can’t be so ungrateful and disrespectful…”
He starts to shout but I’m not listening.
I walk Dierdre to her car, then continue to the house.
It takes less than five minutes to toss everything I own into the back of the truck.
Pretty much all the furnishings were bought by Candace when she first moved in, and left behind when they built the new house.
Nothing’s mine. No one wants it, which was why it was okay for me to make use of it.
I’m ready to start fresh.
I take the few photos of my mom, though.
When I get into the truck, I can see Dad shouting in the office, hands flung skyward as he marches back and forth, so furious that the sound of his voice carries through the glass. Ethan looks spooked and rightly so. It’ll take hours for Dad to calm down now.
But I just don’t care.
I’m so glad I was able to respond reasonably to him. I’m happy I had an exit plan. Better yet, both were possible because Sylvia and I talked. I plan on a whole lot more of that in my life.
In fact, it’s a relief that I won’t have to try to make someone happy who will never be satisfied.
I feel free.
And that means there’s only one place to go.
I call Sylvia as soon as I pull out of the lot. “Have some time for me?” I ask and she catches her breath.
“Something’s wrong,” she says and I shake my head, even though she can’t see me.
“Something’s right.”
And if she says yes, everything will finally be just as it should be.