Chapter Seventeen
SPENCER
"You can't always get what you want, Spencer," Joe, my right-hand man, said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I wanted to buy The Digital Owl, and I was going to succeed. "Past experience says different. Everyone bet against Whitley Publishing surviving after the shift to online. I proved them wrong.”
"Yes, because you made smart business decisions."
"And you think this is stupid?"
"I think you’re obsessing over it, and it's taking your focus from other things."
“I can split my attention very efficiently. Thank you for your concern. Now get me their contact information."
"Fine. I'll do my best."
He sounded exasperated. A vein pulsed in my temple.
It was never a good sign when my own team wasn't on board with me.
But I was too determined to see this through to stop now.
I wanted to keep the biography section alive, and buying The Digital Owl was the best way to do that.
They were a startup—three founders who did all the work, and their writing was brilliant.
I knew Joe was going to get me that number sooner rather than later. Even if he disagreed with me, he wouldn't disobey a direct order. But until he did get me the number, I had to focus on something else. He was right about that at least.
I had been obsessing over this, and it wasn't productive.
But all morning, instead of reviewing the numbers for this quarter, I couldn't help thinking about the possible acquisition.
This was unlike me. Once I decided something, I usually didn't doubt it.
I needed to talk to someone about this, and I didn't want it to be anyone from my team.
In a split second, I decided to call Grandfather.
I hadn't spoken to him about the company in years, partly because there had been no need for it and partly because he'd never been that involved in Whitley Publishing. But that didn't matter. Grandfather’s business experience rivaled that of Bill Gates, and I knew he’d give good advice.
He had excellent instincts. I called his number, but he didn't pick up.
That wasn't a huge surprise. He didn’t carry his phone around with him.
They still had a landline, so I called that one next.
My grandmother answered. “Hi, Whitley House.”
“How is my beloved grandmother? It’s Spencer."
"Spencer, darling. How are you?"
"Good, Grandmother. Listen, I tried Grandfather's cell phone, but he didn't pick up."
"He's in the back, reading his newspaper. I'll tell him to reach out to you." She hesitated. "Is everything all right?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"
"You rarely call to speak directly with him. Are you sure it isn't something I can help you with as well?"
"You can. I’d like both of your opinions."
"Excellent. What is it?"
"You know what? Why don't I stop by, and we can talk about it."
"Now you're worrying me."
"It's nothing big. I'm just thinking of a business decision, and I'd like to hear your opinion about it."
"Of course! We'll be happy to give it to you. How long before you get here?"
"Twenty minutes, give or take."
She gasped. "You can't do that. I don't even have time to bake muffins."
I groaned, sitting straighter.
"Grandmother, you don't need to prepare anything. I'm good with coffee."
"It's my privilege as grandmother to spoil my grandchildren."
That always made me feel like I was five years old. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. I already ate, and I don't need anything except coffee."
"Hmm," Grandmother said. "Fine."
Her voice indicated that things were absolutely not fine.
"I'll see you soon," I said before hanging up. I left the office before anyone could interrupt me. My team was used to me coming and going as I pleased. I instructed Joe to forward me the contact information as soon as he got it. On the drive to my grandparents’ house, I mulled the situation over in my mind, deciding on the best way to lay it out.
As a rule, we didn't involve Grandfather in anything that could cause him even the slightest amount of stress since the ER scare.
But this would just be an interesting conversation for him, and it wasn't stressful in any way.
I parked right in front of their place. I had so many good memories in this house, and I was glad my grandparents still lived here.
I couldn't wait for my son to be old enough to run on this porch…
or at least take his first steps, which, I guessed, came before running.
My grandfather opened the door after a few knocks. "Spencer, come in."
I stepped inside and looked around. The house smelled like spices… vanilla or cinnamon. Honestly, I had no idea. I always mixed them up. For me, it just smelled like a home should.
"Is Grandmother baking?"
He held his hand up. "I didn't even try to stop her."
"I told her it's not necessary."
"Choose your battles wisely, Spencer. How do you think your grandmother and I have been so happy our whole lives? Compromise is the key."
"Right," I said.
What they had always seemed alien to me.
Decades of a happy marriage seemed impossible.
To my knowledge, they'd never had huge issues, not like my parents.
Then again, I didn't know anyone who had issues like my parents. What I never could understand was how—coming from this family—my father had such a skewed sense of loyalty, of relationships. He’d looked at his parents and thought to himself, what?
"I plan to do the exact opposite and see how that turns out. "
As soon as I stepped inside the living room, Grandmother came in from the kitchen with a tray and three coffees.
"Okay, here we go. My muffins will be ready in fifteen minutes. I'm curious how they'll turn out. I followed my friend Ginny’s time-saving recipe. She uses it when her great-grandkids are hungry. I'm curious if they'll be any good."
Grandfather and I exchanged a glance. I took his advice and chose not to mention anything about the muffins.
"Now, what did you want to talk to us about, Grandson?" Grandfather asked.
I cleared my throat, taking a sip of my coffee. I wanted to choose my words carefully. I was rarely one to dig up the past, but I knew my grandparents would see straight through me and my motivations. There was no point trying to tiptoe around.
"As you know, I've always enjoyed running Whitley Publishing. I liked updating it to the modern world while also paying tribute to its roots. Recently, we've had some challenges with the biography section. The writers we had for that section moved on to other magazines. The ones we’ve interviewed don’t want to write biographies at all. They think it wouldn’t help their careers because it’s a dead-end category.
Keeping it up and running will require significantly more effort than I thought.
I have my eye on acquiring a small startup that does quality journalism.
My team is not 100 percent behind me, and that’s worrying. ”
“I've always appreciated this about you, Spencer," Grandfather said. "You're not one to be ashamed to admit when you're wrong."
I leaned back in the chair, looking between the two of them. I was curious where they were going with this.
"You think I'm wrong by insisting I keep the section?"
"I've been out of the loop for a long time when it comes to Whitley Publishing. Your mother was doing such a great job back in the day that there was no need for me to do much else."
I swallowed hard.
"In fact, even after she wasn't with us anymore, she’d laid the groundwork for it to continue running smoothly until you took over.”
Grandmother cleared her throat. “Spencer, darling, you have good instincts. You always did. Remember when the team was against you for wanting to offer free content online?"
"Yes.” I remembered that vividly. “They thought it would ruin us when in fact it brought us a steady stream of subscribers, which then converted to paid subscriptions."
"What does your instinct tell you now?" she asked.
I tapped my finger against the cup. "I might be doing this for the wrong reasons," I admitted.
"Personally, I don't think there are wrong reasons," Grandfather said. "Just rational ones and emotional ones."
"The section was important to Mom," I said. "But I can't deny what my team said. The biography section doesn’t have a lot of growth potential."
"But do you have readers who are interested in it?"
"Yes, a small group. Very loyal one."
"Look," Grandfather began. "Not all projects are moneymakers. As far as I'm concerned, it's not a big deal to keep a section that's important to you even though it's not making a lot of profit. We've got plenty of others that do. As long as it’s not affecting the overall operation, why not?"
My team thought it did harm the company, primarily because I was obsessing over it too much.
I didn't share that with Grandfather. Then he might start to worry, and it wasn't what I wanted.
Besides, he'd given me the piece of advice I'd been hoping for: it wasn't extravagant to keep up a section just because it was important to me.
I knew my team couldn't understand my motivations, but I was glad that my grandparents did.
"You've had hunches about sections you should keep before, and your team wasn't convinced," Grandmother went on. "What was it they said about the book club section? That it was outdated and mostly targeted at old bats?"
I burst out laughing. "I'm sure no one said old bats."
"No, but that's what they meant. Anyway, I think if you really want to do it, then don't let anyone stop you."
"Thank you both. You've put my mind at ease. That's why I came here."
I was seeing more of Grandmother these days with Ben and our occasional dinners out, but I hadn't spoken to Grandfather in a while. Since becoming a father, I'd skipped a few of the Saturday lunches, and right now I felt guilty as hell. My grandparents weren't getting any younger.
“What’s new around here?” I asked.
My grandparents exchanged a glance.
I immediately went on high alert. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, darling. Why would anything be wrong?" Grandmother asked.
Her voice was a bit too innocent.
My grandfather shook his head. "Jeannie, I told you it wouldn't work. Spencer knows us too well."
"Oh," Grandmother said, waving her hand. "I shouldn't have told you. You always run your mouth."
"Grandmother," I said.
She looked at me, flashing me an innocent smile. "Well, since you’re here, I was wondering if you'd like to share with us about what's going on in your life lately."
"Like you don’t know already."
She rolled her eyes. "We’re surmising but would like a confirmation."
"You want to ask about Penny and me?"
"Well, yes," Grandmother admitted.
"We’re fine, and I'm not going to give you any more details," I said, rising to my feet. They had my best interests at heart, but I preferred to keep some things to myself.
"Get out while you still have time, son," Grandfather said. "I told her not to ask."
I shook my head. "I thought you knew how to choose your battles."
"Turns out I still have a lot to learn."
"Of course I have to ask. How else will I know? You two make such a beautiful couple. I'm so glad you found her."
"Grandmother," I said carefully. "Penny and I are simply having fun. Don't make this out to be more than it is."
"I've heard that before. It all starts out this way. Your brothers—"
"I know. You've told me my brothers' stories a million times." I didn't want to be short with her, but I also didn't want her to be under the illusion that Penny and I were going to walk down the aisle to the altar. It simply wasn't going to happen. Neither of us desired that.
"This is different. I've got a son to focus on," I said as I took the cups to the kitchen with Grandmother.
"Oh, my muffins are ready," she said, opening the oven.
"Let me do this for you." I grabbed the tray with two silicone protectors and put it on top of the stove.
Gran immediately reached for one. It crumbled in her hand. “Yeah. What did I expect? I'm never listening to her again.” She turned to me and said quietly, "Spencer, I know you have a lot going on. That doesn't mean you don't deserve a chance to be happy."
I jerked my head back. "I never said that."
"No, but I know you. When things go wrong, you tend to blame yourself first."
"Because that's how I take control of my life," I explained. "If I just blame others, then it means I have no control over what happens to me."
"And that's a very healthy way to look at life. But sometimes people do things for which we can’t claim responsibility. We just have to deal with the fallout. But that doesn't mean we need to blame ourselves."
"I'm not," I assured her.
"Good. You shouldn't, because you’re a good man and a good dad. And from what I hear, a good boyfriend."
My eyes bulged. Penny and I never introduced ourselves as each other's boyfriend or girlfriend. “How would you have heard that?"
"Last time I went to your house, Agatha mentioned that you and Penny seemed close."
"That doesn't mean…"
"I know," she said in a soft tone. "I'm just saying… don't discard this if it brings you joy."
"Okay." She wasn't wrong. Penny did make me happy. And no matter how often I told myself that neither of us wanted more, I was starting to wonder if that was true.