2. Owen
Owen
For eleven solid minutes, the shithead moose did nothing but stand in the middle of the road and stare at me.
While I waited—because I truly did have to wait; there was no easy way to reroute, and Gus had convinced me not to get out of the car—I did a Google search and determined that the antlers on its massive head meant it was a bull.
It also sported a large scar across one of its back legs. Like this asshole had seen some shit and lived to tell about it. So Gus had probably been right about not provoking him.
It figured that my first day in Maine would be filled with moose and police. I could only imagine what other headaches awaited me.
The parking lot was empty, save for a few Hebert timber trucks and three police vehicles. Yes, three police cruisers. Probably the entirety of the Lovewell PD force. Like they had nothing better to do in this town.
I heaved open the car door, hauled myself out, stretched, and steeled myself for what I was about to walk into.
And then my phone rang again.
“You’re back already?” my mother said without bothering with a polite greeting.
“I just got here. How could you possibly know that?”
She laughed. My mother was always laughing, despite all the shit life had thrown at her. Despite my mood, the sound made me feel a fraction lighter. Fuck, it had been far too long since I’d heard it in person.
“Owen Hebert. It’s been years since you’ve been home. I got texts from two people who saw you at the Pump and Sip in Heartsborough. According to them, you were gassing up a foreign luxury car and buying alcohol at nine a.m.”
Jesus. I couldn’t buy a six-pack in this town without my mother hearing about it. Or without some kind of comment about my car.
“I’m thirty-eight years old, mother.”
“Old enough to buy a six-pack of Allagash, yes, but it’s a bit early, don’t you think? And on a Tuesday?”
I dropped my head and shook it. Damn, the gossip tip line had even taken note of the brand of beer I’d bought. “I also bought beef jerky, peanut butter M&M’s, and dental floss. Did your sources include those details in their report?”
“At least you bought Maine beer. If you’d walked out of there with Sam Adams, I’d never be able to show my face again.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“And I’ve missed you, smart-ass.”
“Mom.” I snapped my head up, taken aback. My mother rarely swore.
“Eh,” she said, and I could practically see her wave a dismissive hand at me. “It’s fine. I’m living my truth now. Have you read anything by Brene Brown? I can lend you a few titles while you’re here. She’ll change your life, Owen.”
“I don’t have time for recreational reading at the moment. While I’m here, I’ll be working full time remotely while also managing the sale of the business.” Not to mention I had no interest in my mother’s brand of self-improvement.
“And dealing with Chief Souza,” she quipped.
Stomach sinking, I stopped a few feet from the entrance. “How do you know that?”
She laughed, the sound light and airy, once again lifting my spirits despite the circumstances. “I’m so happy you’re here. Your brothers need you. Are you coming for dinner tonight? You’ve already got a six-pack of beer to bring along.”
I sighed. “I’ve got to get myself settled and figure out how things are going to work here. I’m up to my eyeballs in work for Hebert Timber, as well as my actual job.”
Her hum was laced with disappointment. “I’m sure I’ll get word when the police leave. Once they do, I’ll swing by with something for you.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don’t do small towns. Personal growth in a small town is impossible. A person’s childhood indiscretions will haunt them forever, and people make judgments based on the actions of past generations.
In this town, I was Mitch Hebert’s second son. That was it.
I wasn’t a real person here. I was an archetype. The smart Hebert brother. I wasn’t the tallest, or the most athletic, or the one who wanted to take over the business. Each of us boys had been assigned a limited identity at birth.
I’d always pushed back against the confines of this place. Even when I was a kid, it was too small, too rural. I longed for wide streets, more than one option when it came to restaurants and shops, and blissful anonymity.
Once my mom had said her goodbyes, I pocketed my phone and took in my surroundings.
I’d never set foot in this building before. Crossing the threshold felt like a violation of everything that mattered to me, of my value as a person.
When I was a kid, Hebert Timber headquarters were housed in an old brick building on the outskirts of town. There were desks clustered around and my grandpa always had a bowl of candy on his. There was a shop in a pole barn out back and a massive parking lot for trucks and machinery.
It wasn’t fancy, but I spent my childhood running around the place with my brothers, causing mischief and climbing on all the trucks. Any fond memories I had of the business were set there.
A decade or so ago, my father built his headquarters. Rather than constructing a new building, he erected an entire campus. Multiple structures and state-of-the-art facilities, including a small hangar and an airstrip.
The office building was a modern mega monstrosity that was completely out of place in rural Maine.
I forced myself through the front door, and as I crossed the grand foyer, I took in the decor.
It was ornate and dark and intimidating.
I chuckled at the thought of my dad hiring an expensive interior designer out of Portland or Bangor and telling them he wanted something that screamed “swanky law firm in hell.”
Bastard.
The money he’d blown on this ridiculous facility would have been better spent on updating the town library or the school or literally anything else. Even the highway sign welcoming drivers to Lovewell was faded and cracked.
But no, my dad’s ego needed a campus. If the new buyers wouldn’t purchase this building, no one would.
In this part of the state, there wasn’t a single business that would want or need a facility like this.
Not with the way it stuck out against the landscape.
And it wasn’t like we could convert it into anything useful.
“Thank fuck you’re here.” Gus was striding toward me.
He was a brick wall in human form, dressed in a dark blue plaid shirt, jeans, and boots.
It had been his go-to look since high school.
His beard was thick and wild, and his hair was on the longish side, curling up from beneath his gray wool beanie.
He pulled me into a hug and clapped me on the back with one of his enormous hands. In that instant, I felt like a scrawny kid again.
And totally freaked out and in over my head.
“So good to see you. Let’s get upstairs, play nice with the police, and then get to work, ayuh?”
Once we reached the floor that housed his office, he led me down a long, stark hallway. “The place is a mess,” he said. “But I’ve got faith in you.”
I followed him, matching his long strides, past the executive suites.
It was hard not to slow when I noticed the framed black and white photos on the walls.
This was the one thing they’d done right with this facility.
As we continued our trek, I was met with images of Hebert after Hebert.
Logging in the woods, dragging logs with chains and horses, riding floats of timber down the river.
The nostalgia that had hit when I noticed the photos was quickly replaced with a surge of anger.
All of this history was gone. So many jobs were gone, forcing people to leave town.
Because my idiot father had gotten greedy.
I’d never had any interest in the family business, but I understood and appreciated what it meant to my family and this town.
We passed several empty offices, some of which looked to have been ransacked. It was unsurprising, I supposed. The feds had tossed this place last year, and that was before the break-ins my brothers had been dealing with.
Gus and Jude had worked with local brokers to sell off the more expensive furniture pieces, the fancy projection screens, and the majority of the electronics.
The massive conference table that sat twenty had been difficult to offload, though they’d eventually found a buyer in Vermont. That sale alone netted enough to keep the electricity on for the next year, so that was a plus.
Now, where that ornate table had once sat, my brother and his staff had pushed together plastic folding tables.
Chief Souza stood from one of the metal chairs that surrounded the makeshift conference table when I entered and shook my hand.
Two of his officers stood as well, both dipping their chins at me.
“The famous Owen Hebert,” Souza said, a toothpick wedged firmly in his teeth. “Came all the way from Boston, did you? Though I was under the impression that you’d be here thirty minutes ago.”
I bristled, but I schooled my expression into something I hoped came across as neutral. “I would have been here sooner, but I was stuck behind a moose.”
He laughed. “Bastard probably knew you were an out-of-towner. Musta been trying to fuck with you, ayuh?”
Shaking off my annoyance, I gritted my teeth and sat in the chair next to Gus. I pulled a notebook out of my briefcase and found a pen. Then I straightened in my seat and focused on the chief. This was business, and I didn’t have time to fuck around with this dumbass.
Chief Souza had been a Lovewell fixture since I was a child.
He was known for being good-natured and he was decent at his job, albeit a bit on the lazy side.
He had thick gray hair and a Magnum PI mustache that was his pride and joy and could often be found at the local dive bar, drinking beer with some of the people he’d previously arrested.
For several minutes, he pontificated about crime and Hebert Timber and how Lovewell used to be a safe place. His implications were clear. This town had been safe until my father decided to turn to a life of crime.
I kept my mouth shut and let him yammer on. Gus, thank fuck, did the same. It was best we let him say what he wanted to say so he could get the hell out of there.
“We wanna help,” the chief said, resting his elbows on the table and affecting a fake-ass look of concern. “Clearly, you’re still dealing with the mess your father left. I can assign an officer to drive by periodically.”
“That’s not necessary,” Gus said politely, sitting straighter in the chair beside me. “The place isn’t as busy as it used to be, but we’ve got it covered.”
The last thing we needed was the law riding our asses. If we were going to get this place sold, then the next few weeks would be frenzied. Once I really dug into the financials, I wasn’t sure what I’d find, and the last thing I needed was the cops looking over my shoulder as I did.
“Then I’m going to insist you install security cameras.”
As if we had the funds for that. I’d bet just about anything that the vandalism and break-ins could be pinned on asshole teens messing around.
“I’ve got a guy,” Chief Souza said with a smile. “He’ll do right by ya, and he won’t gouge ya if you’re a friend of mine.”
I opened my mouth, ready to brush off the suggestion. Every word out of his mouth, not to mention his body language and the smarmy looks, made me feel like he was playing with us. Like a cat tossing a mouse around for fun before swallowing it whole.
“Thank you,” Gus said sincerely. He stood, silently signaling to the assholes that it was time for them to leave. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Because I could get a warrant. If you think that’s necessary…” The chief’s tone was light, but the threat was clear.
“No need,” Gus said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Help with security would be great. We’re eager to stop the break-ins and help you in any way we can. Now that my brother is here to help, I know things are gonna turn around.”
I nodded, pretending like I was up for the challenge as opposed to dreading it with every fiber of my being.
“I’ll show you boys out,” Gus said, leading them away and leaving me alone.
I stood in the empty conference room, taking in the view of the expansive Maine wilderness on the other side of the massive windows.
This place was everything I never wanted.
And yet the weight of the situation had settled onto my shoulders.
There were six of us brothers, and it was up to me, the one who’d walked away, to fix it all.
Gus’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then he was stepping back into the conference room.
“Thank God they’re gone.” He heaved out a sigh.
“They wandered around the building taking pictures for a damn hour before you got here. I sat them down with coffee and sent Molly out for donuts just to keep them from fucking around too much.”
“I don’t like him.”
He shrugged and sidled up beside me near the windows. “He’s the police chief, and he coached the high school baseball team forever. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s covering his ass. Though I am a little concerned that he’s looking to make an example out of us.”
His cell rang in his pocket, and he held up a hand. “Hold on.” He’d barely gotten a “hello” out when his brows pulled low and his mouth turned down into a frown. “Shit,” he said into the receiver. “Give me twenty minutes.”
As Gus pocketed his phone again, he turned to me.
“I gotta run. There’s a truck stuck at the three-mile marker and they need my help.
Pick an office and get yourself set up. Supplies are down the hall.
Molly left to pick her kids up at school, but she’ll be in tomorrow to answer any questions you have. ”
With that, he strode out of the office and down the hall.
“Hey.”
I jogged to catch up to him. How the hell was I supposed to get started? This place was a wreck. My head was spinning as my stomach dropped.
“This is a big job.” One I wished like hell I could get out of.
He stopped and clapped me on the shoulder. “I know. That’s why Finn and I found an assistant for you.”
I frowned. “Sorry, what?”
“She’s great.” He smiled for what might have been the first time since I’d arrived.
“You’re gonna love her. She’s great at all the nerdy accounting shit just like you.
” He pulled his phone out and checked the time.
“She’ll be here in twenty minutes. Meet her down there, would ya?
I’ll be back in an hour or so to help you get going. ”
And then he was gone, jogging down the stairs, leaving me staring, open-mouthed.
What the hell had I got myself into?