Finn
The day had been a long one, and Merry’s troubles weighed heavily on me.
So the last thing I wanted to do was attend a family meeting with my brothers.
It would only add to that weight. But when Owen texted, he swore that it was important.
He was doing all he could to work out the financial side of things for us, while I was messing around with drones and flirting with my sort-of boss.
So I guess I could hear him out.
Merry was bopping around in the back seat of the truck, energized after her nap with that yappy dog.
“You should ask her on a date,” she said, taking her headphones off.
“Who?”
“Miss Gagnon. She’s nice and has a dog. And she’s tall, like you.”
The smile that spread across my face was a genuine one, even if they’d been hard to muster lately. I appreciated her priorities.
“Not gonna do that, kiddo. She’s my boss. And it’s complicated.”
With a hum, she watched the scenery go by out her window, like she was considering my argument, but after a moment of silence, she ignored it completely. One of her go-to negotiation tactics.
“I mean it, Dad. She’s a little bit scary. Which is a good match for you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you look scary too. On the outside. You’ve got all those tattoos, and you’re super tall. But on the inside, you are so sweet and awesome. I think Miss Gagnon is like that too.”
My heart just about melted. This kid was constantly rocking my world. She did not miss a single detail, and her heart was so big.
I turned down Main Street, trying really hard not to pull over and give her a hug and complain that she was growing up too fast. These days, I was lamenting that constantly. I swore that five minutes ago, she was crawling, or we were worried that she wasn’t speaking in full sentences yet.
Now she was doling out wisdom and routinely kicking my ass.
“Mom is really happy with Mike. And they’re gonna get married.”
“I’m happy for them.” My reply was an honest and easy one.
Merry had adapted well to Mike and, as far as I could tell, wasn’t pining for her mom and me to get back together.
“Your mom is my best friend,” I said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror.
“I want her to have a wonderful husband and a wonderful life.”
“But what about you, Dad? I want you to have a wife. That way you can have a wonderful life too.”
Jesus. I almost swerved off the road at the certainty in her tone.
“I don’t need a wife.”
“Sure you do. I’m already ten. I’m gonna grow up and go to college and become a teacher and a singer and a fashion designer and a veterinarian someday. I’ll be busy. You need a wife to keep you company when I’m gone.”
I smiled at her in the rear-view mirror. “Sounds like you will be super busy.”
“That’s why you need a wife. But I think you should start with a girlfriend.”
“That sounds wise.” I nodded, biting back a smile.
“Yes. Kind of like how I keep asking for a dog and you tell me to start with a goldfish, even though that’s boring and not really what I want.”
Her logic was impeccable, and every one of her arguments, though unrealistic, made my heart swell a little more. My girl was nothing if not persistent and thoughtful.
“That’s why you should go on a date with Miss Gagnon and see if she wants to be your girlfriend.”
“Mm-hmm.” I hummed noncommittally, desperate for this conversation to end and relieved when the sign outside Alicia’s neighborhood came into view ahead.
Merry left it at that as I navigated down the street and pulled into the driveway, praying the conversation was over.
“And,” Merry said, grabbing her backpack from the seat beside her, clearly not as ready as I was to leave this topic behind, “if aliens invade, she could fight them off and protect you.”
“I can protect myself.” Leaning down, I gave her a hug and a kiss on the head.
“I know that, Dad. But wouldn’t you want someone to help you fight off the aliens?”
With that final question, she turned and skipped toward the front door, leaving me confused and exhausted.
“We’re going to have to sell. There’s no way around it.” Owen’s voice was tinny through the phone’s speaker, but that didn’t hide the seriousness of his tone. Jude, Gus, and I sat around the table, with Owen on speaker.
Cole had been included on the text chain, but he hadn’t bothered responding. And Noah had appointed Jude his proxy, completely checking out of his responsibility. Typical.
Of all my brothers, I was closest to Owen. Probably because we’d had the same goal growing up: get out. And we both had. He was smart and focused, and he’d always known what he wanted.
A stable career, big city life, and plenty of distance from our dad.
He was an accountant by trade and was the CFO of one of the largest construction companies in Boston.
He was tall, but that’s where the physical similarities between the two of us ended.
His hair was darker, and he wore Clark Kent–style glasses.
He could chop wood and climb trees like the rest of us, but that wasn’t his style.
He was all skyscrapers and trendy restaurants. His condo in Seaport had a wall of windows that looked out over Boston Harbor.
He was also the only one of my brothers who’d visited me from time to time when I was stationed in Virginia. And he loved to spoil his niece. Not that she acted even the slightest bit spoiled.
“We sold off a bunch of land and machinery,” Gus protested.
“That had to have helped get us out of the red.” His normally tan face was pale.
He was taking this hard, and I didn’t envy him.
This was his life. Carrying on the family legacy meant everything to him.
He had taken Dad’s betrayal the hardest, and he’d struggled to come to terms with what the man had done.
He wanted to believe that it was all a giant mistake, that Dad was innocent, but deep down, he understood that it wasn’t.
Didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.
He was the oldest, and he was a quiet, contemplative guy. He lived on several acres in a vintage Airstream he had gutted and renovated a few years ago, enjoying his solitude and the quiet of the forest. If everything fell apart, I truly wasn’t sure how he’d cope.
“And Finn’s flying for the Gagnons,” Jude said. “That’ll cover the plane expenses.”
“I can do this,” Gus said. “We can turn things around. Dad kept me on the outside for so long, but now that I’ve got more control, I can fix this. I can run the business.”
Owen sighed, the sound of it crackling down the line. He hated this. Crushing dreams. Always being the voice of reason.
“I’m not doubting you, brother. But the books are a mess. I can’t tell which transactions are legit or which income came from Dad’s criminal empire.”
Every time I thought about it, my stomach roiled and bile rose in my throat. My dad. A murderer. A drug dealer.
There was no love lost between us. I had kept my distance from a young age.
When I was a kid, our family looked picture perfect from the outside.
My mom truly was a superhuman, wrangling five boys, putting home-cooked meals on the table every night, and volunteering at school and with various organizations around town, all while keeping the massive house my dad had built for her spotless.
My dad was my hero, at least in my younger years.
He’d taken his grandfather’s business and had made it a huge success.
During a time when most people around here were suffering, Hebert Timber grew and thrived.
We had grown up having everything we ever wanted: trips to Disney World, the best sports equipment, and parents who doted on us.
But that only lasted a short time.
I was seven years old when my world fell apart.
My mom and dad sat us down and told us they were getting a divorce.
Turned out my dad had been having an affair with his twenty-year-old secretary. And she was pregnant with my youngest brother, Cole.
Mom filed for divorce, moved us to a much smaller house, went back to school, and got her nursing degree. She did almost all of the child rearing while my dad went off and married Tammi.
He was in and out of our lives when it was convenient for him, plying us with extravagant gifts rather than the time and attention we craved.
Putting up a compelling front so that just about everyone we knew believed he played an active role in raising us, yet only involving himself when it suited him and leaving my mom to do all the hard work.
Mom pushed through it all, building a life for herself and for us.
She was more of a parent to Cole than either of people who’d contributed to his DNA, since his own mom wasn’t particularly interested in parenting.
My saint of a mother put aside her hurt to love him like she loved the rest of us.
She raised the five of us, sometimes Cole, and she never complained, always had a hug and a smile for us and a batch of cookies in the oven.
And she taught us to cook, do laundry, mow the lawn, and take care of one another and our neighbors. Still to this day, I cannot imagine how she did it all. But every time I think about it, I’m reminded of just how much I owed her.
On the other hand, I had no delusions that my father was a good guy.
We had never been close and he came in and out of our lives when it was convenient to him.
After Merry was born, I’d hoped to somehow bridge the gap, if only for her sake.
Now? There was nothing to salvage. Except the company that bore our name.
Which we were definitely going to lose.
“You know what that dirty money means?” Owen asked.
“It means the feds are gonna swoop in. They’re gonna seize the shit out of everything we’ve got.
Most of Dad’s assets are frozen. Thankfully, the structure of the timber company gives us some leeway to at least try to keep things going.
But the houses, the cars, the investments? ”
“We don’t need that shit. We need our land and our equipment. We can figure the rest out.”
Owen scoffed. “Did you know that Dad had accounts in the Cayman Islands?”
Of course he did. The fucker did everything he could to evade paying taxes.
“They’re all frozen right now,” Owen explained. “If he’s found guilty—and let’s face it, that’s a certainty at this point—then they’ll take it all. It’s called forfeiture. And the feds are excellent at it.”
Jude threw up his hands. “So we’re screwed.
” He took off his glasses and used his T-shirt—one that read: Zombies eat brains; don’t worry, you’re safe—to clean them for what had to have been the tenth time tonight.
He was beyond done with this conversation and was about five minutes away from kicking us out of his house.
Ripley, sensing his distress, padded over and put her head on his lap.
“Grandpa’s land trust is our only option. It’s what allowed us to sell that acreage,” Owen explained patiently. “Those funds can keep the business going, fund payroll, and keep a limited number of trucks on the road. For the time being, at least.”
“We’re also down a large percentage of employees,” Jude added.
“They’ll come back once things level out.
The people here need the work.” Gus pounded his fist on the small table.
“We’ve got to at least try. What else will we do?
Timber is in our blood. This company was built by our ancestors.
We can’t just walk away,” he shouted, which was rare for my oldest brother. He was mellow by default.
But his anger was only fueling mine. Owen was the number cruncher, and he was doing all he could for our family. He wasn’t the one rotting in prison. The man who’d destroyed our family’s reputation and had just about destroyed the business too.
Gus was taking his anger out on Owen when he didn’t deserve it. “We don’t have a choice. Dad did. And he fucked us,” I spat.
But of course, Owen had it handled. He dealt with assholes every day.
“I wasn’t the one who flushed the family legacy down the toilet and contributed to the greatest public health crisis of our time,” he explained, his voice surprisingly calm.
“I have a job. I have a life. I’m doing this for you guys.
Not for Dad. Not for Uncle Paul. For my brothers. Because I love you.”
Gus got up and paced around the small kitchen, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I’ve been out a long time and I will not get dragged back in,” Owen said.
In my periphery, Jude nodded. We weren’t going to pull him back here.
My favorite thing about Owen was that he did not bullshit.
He was always honest and always up-front, even in his hatred of Lovewell and my father.
So as much as his report on the business hurt, as much as it was gutting Gus, I trusted him.
I clapped my hands, the sound loud in the space that had gone silent moments before. “So we sell.” It was the inevitable outcome.
Gus glared at me. Jude continued to pet Ripley and ignored the conversation entirely.
“If only it were that easy,” Owen said. “This company is in tatters. The books are a shit show. There’s a lot of work to be done if we want to attract a serious buyer.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Jude shouted. With that, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly across the floor, and strode out the back door with Ripley on his heels.
Gus followed suit, clearly unwilling to discuss the next steps.
I leaned back, running my hands through my hair. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Owen.”
Despite my mom’s best efforts to instill in us the love and loyalty of a tight-knit family, we were splintering. And it gutted me to witness the way my father and his fucked-up legacy were coming between us.
But the battle lines had been drawn.
And I knew what side I was on.