Chapter 1 #2
"She could have died, and it would have been due to my careless frivolity and the fact that I cannot commit, am unable to stick to a relationship or anything for that matter."
Stepping back, he went into his vast closet to select a suitable lounge jacket. He had shipped his stuff back home a week before he left and they were folded and hung neatly for his convenience.
The minute he announced his plans to return home, his parents had set the servants to work, cleaning and arranging his suite. For that and many other things he was grateful for their support.
And he intended to prove to himself and his family that he had changed. He was no longer like a butterfly flitting from one rose bud to another. He was steady and was ready to take his place in the company. It was time.
"Shall we?" Determined to put the past behind him, he offered an arm to his sister. "Let's go down to dinner."
*****
They had a special ritual, and it had been established since her daughter was a baby. No matter how tired she was or how late she was getting home, Abby would dismiss the nanny and see about getting her daughter ready for bed.
Tonight was no different. Forcibly pushing aside the worry facing her, she filled the tub and half-listened to her little girl's chatter about kindergarten.
"Melissa was such a baby." Oblivious to her mother's troubled thoughts, Zoe stepped into the tub and sank down until the bubbles reached her pointed chin. Her riot of light brown curls were pinned on top of her head to avoid getting wet.
Hazel eyes danced as she stared at her mother and gleefully related the story of how her best friend in all the world went crying to Mrs. James after she spilled juice all over her pretty pink sweater.
"Remember when I spilled juice over my white shirt, mama?" She lifted her left leg and rubbed at the suds. She enjoyed this time together. Grams and Grandpa were super-duper nice and gave her whatever she wanted, but her mother was the best in the world.
"You never cried. Not one bit." Abby knew the drill. "You were brave about it and very dignified."
Zoe nodded solemnly. "That's because you told me that it was an accident and it could happen to anyone. I tried to tell Melissa that, but she wouldn't listen. She screamed and said it was her favorite sweater in the world, and the juice will not come out."
She lifted trusting eyes to her mother. "But it will, right, mama?"
"Sure it will. A few sprays from a stain remover and it will be as right as rain." She smiled as her baby giggled at the term. "Ready?"
"Just one more minute."
"That's a minute that will be taken away from your story time."
That did the trick. Zoe was up instantly. Her daughter might not have inherited her physical features, but she had certainly inherited Abby's love for the printed word.
When she was pregnant with her, Abby had been obsessive with reading, even more so than she normally was. Part of it was her trying to escape the heartache that had seemed to last forever.
Even now, the comfort she found in books remained her refuge, a way to navigate the complexities of adult life and motherhood. Turning the page on every new story was a small act of hope, a signal that, with patience, things could always get better.
Abby believed in the healing power of bedtime rituals, in the quiet magic that stories brought to their evenings together, soothing both their worries as the days wound down.
Just the simple gesture of wrapping the towel around her child's slight body was something she had come to cherish. She had been a frightened young pregnant girl, but she had found her footing with the help of her family.
No one was going to take that away from her. Not even Kincaid Tyrell.
"Okay sport, let's get this show on the road." Zoe's big laugh echoed around the room as her mother swung her up and into her arms to carry her into the adorable pink and cream bedroom that smelled of powder and crayons.
*****
"We were thinking you should take some time before you plunge into things." Eloise was determined not to show her worry. She was over the moon happy that her son was back home, but she wanted him healed before attempting anything too difficult.
Lifting his head from his plate, Cade scanned the formal dining room where his family were seated. His father was at the head of the table, looking as confident and calm as usual. Nothing much fazed Kenneth Tyrell.
He had slid into the company and taken over when his father had died of a heart attack when Kenneth was only twenty and still in college. And had spent the years turning that company into a wildly successful one.
He had done that while taking the rest of his courses so he could get his degree in leadership management and accounting. He had met his wife Eloise when he was twenty-five and decided that the outrageously beautiful woman was going to wear his ring and bear his name.
They had been married in six months. Shortly after that, she had given him two sons and a daughter. Thirty-five years of marriage had not dimmed his adoration for his wife.
He showed it by the way he looked at her and the fact that he was constantly touching her. His first born had followed in his footsteps. Kevin was vice president of the company and happily married to his Sarah-Jane. They were still trying to make a baby.
His sister had surprised him most of all. Katherine had found her niche in running the public relations department and was doing a damn good job of it. Cade had no idea where he belonged.
He had been given a stellar education along with his siblings and held degrees in business and art as well as a minor degree in computer science. He had never put any of them to use.
For the first time, shame coursed through his body. He wanted to slink away and hide inside his room, but he figured that was what was expected of him.
Another expectation was that of his inability to see anything through to its conclusion. He was going to prove that expectation wrong. He had to.
"I don't want to wait," he told his mother quietly.
"All we're saying is that you should take some time and decide what you really want to do."
He sent his brother a cool look. "Is that the general consensus around here? Poor Kincaid has never worked a day in his life, so let's keep him out of the business?"
"Now son..."
"No, dad." He shook his head. "I need this and all I'm asking for is a chance." He put down his utensils in a precise manner as he tried for calm. "I know none of you have any reason to believe me or believe in me, but I need to do this."
Picking up his wine glass, he took a sip to cool his parched throat. It was difficult trying to change, even more so to try to convince the people who were used to you that you were determined to do just that.
He searched each of their faces, hoping for a glimmer of understanding, anything to show that they still saw him as capable of more than his past failures. The silence that followed felt heavy, but Cade forced himself not to look away.
Deep down, he knew that earning their trust would take more than words, but he was ready to show them through actions this time.
"I love books, always have. I've been reading up on the various arms of the company and there's a publishing house slated to be closed because of lack of performance. I want a chance to revive it."
His father exchanged a glance with his older son. "Raven House has not been producing for years now. Part of the reason is the location and the fact that it was poorly managed."
"Then we revive it. I already have some ideas of what needs to be done. I've done a deep dive into the root of the problem and think I have a solution."
"Son, how about an easier position? You're very visible and our brand is falling behind. You did some modeling and acting..."
"You want me to pose on billboards and give interviews." He could not even blame them for thinking that was the only thing he could handle. He had handed them that ammunition for years. It was time to change the narrative.
"How about this?" He was also determined not to take it personally and prove his mettle. "Give me two months to turn things around at the publishing house and if it doesn't work out, I will stand in front of the camera and do my thing. How about it?"
He noticed when his father exchanged looks with Kevin and tamped down the resentment.
"If you're sure..."
"I am." Lifting his glass, he offered a humorless smile. "To my fruitful future."
Later on, after the meal was finished and dessert served in the cream and gold sitting room, he stood by the window of the study, staring out at the leaves of the old oak tree fluttering in the breeze. He had been away a long time, but it was like he had left just a week ago. Nothing had changed.
"Here. Scotch with a twist of lemon. Always wondered how the hell you tarnish such a manly drink."
He turned to take the drink from his brother with a smile. "That's because you never acquired the taste for the finer things. The lemon brings out the taste."
"If you say so." Leaning on the pane, Kevin eyed his brother. "Want to talk?"