KENT
The next morning, we signed all the paperwork in Harold’s or Brom’s office. Brom called it Harold’s office and Harold called it Brom’s. I didn’t give a shit who took ownership.
The legal documents I had drawn up were sitting on the desk. I made sure we all protected our asses. I was the one who would lose big if this investment failed. I watched her father sign the last document. His careful signature made our partnership official. I felt nothing but relief and anticipation.
There was a healthy dose of excitement, but I wasn’t going to pretend I wasn’t a little nervous.
Hell, a lot nervous.
But it was done. I had done something on my own. Just me. That’s what was making me anxious. Growing up in a big family provided insulation. I was never alone—ever.
But now, I was just out there flapping in the wind. If shit hit the fan, I was going to be alone to take the full hit. But the thought of sharing the rewards with Sylvie and her family quieted the fear of failure.
I knew it was only a matter of time before my father caught wind of this. My lawyers would process the documents, file the necessary paperwork, and eventually someone would notice thatKent Bancroft had just committed a significant portion of his personal wealth to a small lodge in the Adirondacks without any involvement from Bancroft Industries.
Or when my dad called to get the update about the other offer, I either told him or ignored him. So far, I was doing the latter, but that would only last for so long.
When he learned what happened, Dad was going to lose his mind.
But for now, in this moment, I was content to focus on the fact that I’d just become a business partner with the woman I loved and the family who’d welcomed me in despite every reason they had to be suspicious.
Last night, I felt like one of them. I felt more seen by that handful of people than I had in my huge family.
“Congratulations,” Harold said, shaking my hand across his desk. “Welcome to the family business.”
The words were a stone-cold dose of reality. I’d been part of Bancroft Industries since I was old enough to understand what the company was, but I’d never felt like I truly belonged there. This felt different. This felt like choosing rather than inheriting.
After we finished with the paperwork, Sylvie and I headed into town to pick up some last-minute things for the big Christmas Eve party that night. The lodge was already buzzing with preparation. Stacy was busy coordinating with the kitchen staff, someone else was setting up the sound system, and Brom was pulling out extra chairs to accommodate the evening’s festivities.
Northwood looked like a Christmas card come to life, with snow covering the sidewalks and storefronts decorated in red and green. Every shop window seemed to twinkle with lights, and the whole town had the kind of festive energy that made you believe in magic.
We were walking out of the hardware store, my arms full of replacement light bulbs for some burnt-out strands in the tree farm display, when we spotted Phineas standing on the sidewalk across the street. He was leaning heavily on his cane and shouting what sounded like creative insults at another elderly man, who was responding with equally colorful language and the occasional middle finger.
I smiled. I loved that the man had no fucks to give. He was who he was, and he couldn’t give a shit what anyone else thought. It wasn’t exactly a great way to be, but I certainly could relate.
Sylvie winced beside me. “Oh no. Not again.”
I wasn’t bothered by the old man’s antics. If anything, seeing him reminded me of that night at Murphy’s when he’d sat with me at the bar, letting me ramble about my complicated feelings while offering the kind of gruff wisdom that only came from decades of life experience.
I liked the old fart. He was cantankerous and would probably drive me crazy, but I was looking forward to sticking around and being friends with the dude. At the very least, he would be a good drinking buddy.
“Phineas!” I called out, crossing the street with Sylvie trailing behind me.
“Kent, what are you doing?” Sylvie groaned. “He’s going to be mean. He sucks the joy out of everything.”
I ignored her and kept going. “Phineas!”
The old man turned at the sound of his name, squinting at me with suspicious eyes until recognition dawned.
“Oh,” he said, his combative posture softening slightly. “It’s you.”
“Good to see you again,” I said, and meant it. “I wanted to thank you for sitting with me at the bar the other night. I needed a friend, and I was grateful for the company.”
Phineas just blinked at me, clearly taken aback by the genuine warmth in my voice. I got the impression that not many people thanked him for anything these days.
An idea struck me, the kind of impulse that I would have dismissed as impractical just a few weeks ago but now felt perfectly natural.
“Actually,” I continued, “I wanted to invite you to come to the lodge tonight. We’re having a Christmas Eve party. Great food, music, good company. I could pick you up around six if you’d like.”
