Owen #2
“Is this gonna ruin our sale?” Gus looked stricken.
It was amazing how he’d come around to selling recently.
We’d spent a lot of time going through the business together, him teaching me about logging and me teaching him about accounting, and we’d reached a mutual understanding of how badly we needed to be rid of this mess.
I shook my head. “Don’t think so. There’s no concrete evidence, and I’m certainly not looking to poke around in a drug conspiracy. The buyers are well aware of the company’s criminal past, and this just helps me give them a better financial picture.”
“Okay, good.” He looked relieved. “Actually. That’s why I came in here. To talk to you about the sale.” He took a deep breath like he was steeling himself for battle and locked eyes with me. “I need help.”
If I hadn’t been sitting, I might have stumbled at that admission. Gus did not ask for help. Ever. He was a one-man show. He could do everything and anything better than a team of ten. He was always learning, always training, and could pick up any skill.
“We’re behind. The cutting is done, but all the rain fucked us. We’re behind on almost a dozen orders, and we’re going to start incurring financial penalties if we don’t deliver soon.”
I had suspected as much, but Gus wasn’t exactly an open book, and my job was to sell the company, not run it, so I’d kept my nose out of his business.
“What can I do?”
He swallowed audibly. “I need to dip into the cash reserves.”
My stomach sank. “There’s nothing left.”
“Dammit.” He shook his head, but he looked unsurprised.
“Even so, I need to hire a weekend crew. Maybe some of the guys I know who work for the Gagnons and the LeBlancs. We’ve got a couple million dollars’ worth of trees in two separate log dumps up in the mountains.
We need to get them down the roads and to the mill in the next couple of weeks. ”
I nodded. He was right. The contractual penalties for late deliveries were steep. And we couldn’t fuck over the few loyal clients who’d stayed with us through all the rough years.
“Everything has to be wrapped up before the closing on July first.”
He grunted. “Exactly. Which is why we’ve got to get on this now. And I’ll need you too.”
Dammit. I’d promised to help, but I wasn’t much use outside the office. “I can’t operate a crane or drive a commercial truck.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He slid to the edge of his seat. “We need people to do inventory, make counts, track gas mileage, and direct traffic. Make sure things run smoothly.”
I wasn’t sure how much help I could be, but I nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need.”
“I’m gonna need Finn and Cole too.”
“I’ll rally the troops.”
“Thank you.” He shifted in his seat and grimaced. “I mean that. You’ve given up a lot for us. We’d be fucked without you. I hope you know how much we appreciate it. I’m sure Dad does too.”
“Fuck, Dad.” Anger flared hot in my veins.
“I did this for you, and Finn, Jude, and Noah. Even Cole. We’re brothers, Gus.
No matter how far apart we’ve drifted, I love you guys.
And I’m not going to screw you over. I hate this deal.
I’d love to spend a year searching for a better one, but we can’t make it that long.
All I can do is get things wrapped up as quickly as possible so you can take your share and live your life. ”
He hung his head for a minute, and when he looked up at me again, his expression was pained. “About that.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“After the sale closes, I’ll stay for a couple of weeks to make the transition if you need me.”
I wasn’t surprised by the offer, but I nodded graciously. “That’s generous of you.”
“But then I’m leaving.”
That had my breath stuttering in my lungs. Gus was Lovewell and Lovewell was Gus. This forest and this land were part of his DNA.
“I’m heading out west,” he said. “I got an offer. In Oregon. To run operations for a big corporate outfit.”
I blinked, at an absolute loss for words. He was going to move across the country? This man who’d spent his life taking care of the people he loved was going to leave them all?
“I’ve spent forty years in this town. There’s nothing left for me. She’s never coming back.” The sigh he let out was full of resignation. “I need to push myself a little, get out into the world.”
I was speechless. On the one hand, I was proud of him for putting himself first, on the other, I was still flabbergasted at the idea of him leaving behind the only place he’d ever called home. Also, who was the “she” he referred to?
“It’s a great job,” he said. “I’ll run several crews, and I’ll be closer to Noah. It’s time I experience something different.”
“Different?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know Oregon is Maine, but with a different ocean, right?”
He shot me a glare. “Thanks for your support, asshole.”
I held my hands up. “I support you. If anyone deserves to leave all this drama behind, it’s you.”
He did. Gus had borne all the responsibility for the company since Dad’s arrest. He’d dealt with the police and the lawyers, and he’d fought like hell to save as many jobs for his employees as possible. Years of working seven days a week and trying to salvage the family legacy had taken a toll.
I cracked a grin. “Is it weird to say I’ll miss you?”
“Yes. Especially since you haven’t visited in years.”
“Hey, I-95 goes both north and south, dick. You could have come to me.”
“You know I hate cities. And you’ve got your fancy life down there. I never wanted to intrude.”
“You’re my big brother. I’d be thrilled to have you. But make me a promise, okay?”
He nodded once in his gruff way.
“Before you go, come down to Boston. We’ll go to a Revs game, drink a few beers, and eat good food. Let me show you my town before you head out.”
He stood and held out his hand.
I heaved myself out of my chair too and took it.
“Done,” he said, squeezing tightly. He already looked more at peace.
A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. I’d gotten to leave, experience life elsewhere, and I’d built something for myself.
Gus had spent his life waiting for his turn to run the family business, and now we were selling it off, leaving him with very little to show for a lifetime of hard work and devotion.
After he left, I sank back in my chair, feeling the weight of that conversation.
We’d need to push extra hard. We only had six weeks until closing.
I was due back in Boston before then, so I’d have to delay again.
Enzo had been understanding, but that was because I’d still been putting in the hours and dialing into every call and meeting I could.
If I had to start working out in the woods, there was no way I’d keep up the way I had been.
But I’d deal with the details later. Right now, I needed to put my head down and get back to work. My family was counting on me.