“No, that’s all right,” Paul said. “Salary…benefits…that’s just stuff…tangible stuff…but it’s theintangible stuff that can’t be matched. That’s what makes me loyal to Dire Enterprises.”
“Exactly what kind of intangible stuff?” asked Carson.
“Hmmm…I guess the best way to describe it is I know I’m just not a number…employee 7502 or whatever…but I’m important to Dire Enterprises…not only because of my job, but they care if I’m happy or if I have a personal problem or if I need help achieving my goals. I’m seen as a person who has rights to pursue my dreams or reach my goals and I know Dire Enterprises will help me any way they can.” He paused for a few seconds as he fished for an example before continuing. “For instance, last year during a discussion with Steel, I mentioned my goal of becoming a pilot and, two weeks later, he arranged for me to attend flight school and made sure my work schedule didn’t interfere. That’s the intangible stuff other companies don’t care about.”
Nodding, Carson knew exactly what Paul meant because he’d written about it in his business plan—the one for a company he wanted to start after he graduated from college. Now, after listening to the passion in Paul’s voice about Dire Enterprises’ method of management, one of his concerns regarding the purchase of Fionn’s companies was put to rest. Smiling, Carson said, “I understand completely. It’s a philosophy more companies should adopt.”
“Definitely,” Paul said, just as a buzzer sounded. Standing, he added, “Sorry, I’m needed in the cockpit. Is there anything else?”
Waving his hand, Carson replied, “No…go ahead, but thanks again.” After Paul left, Carson opened a different file and began typing notes about a solution to the high turnover rate of employees in Fionn’s companies.
Chapter 2
Remy was surrounded by chaos—the new normal since he became his brothers’ guardian when he was twenty-four. Looking over his shoulder as he was preparing Rune’s bowl of oatmeal, he saw Galen and Eamon chasing each other through the kitchen, waving plastic swords. “Hey, stop, you two! Go wash your hands before sitting down at the table.”
Turning back to the task at hand, Remy poured the hot oatmeal into a small bowl, setting it aside to cool before giving it to Rune. The last thing he needed was for his youngest brother to burn himself again. It’d been a steep learning curve after taking custody of his three brothers; sometimes he questioned if he’d made the right decision, especially when one of them got hurt. The guilt he felt when it happened always triggered his memories of sitting in the lawyer’s office faced with a life-changing choice. It would all come rushing back—the numbness of his grief, how cold he felt while listening to his parents’ will being read—his world being turned upside down.
“Mr. Marchant? What do you want to do?”
When the lawyer’s voice finally penetrated through the thick fog of his mind, Remy lifted his face and stared at the lawyer. “What do I want to do about what?”
“Your brothers. As far as I can determine you are their only living relative.”
“That’s right,” Remy murmured, fresh grief washing over him about his young brothers growing up without the love of their parents to shelter them from the hate in the world.
“You do have the option of sending the boys to an orphanage that will accept boys like them.”
Shaking his head, Remy would—could never do that. He didn’t know what went on in those places, but he’d heard enough about them to know it wasn’t good. Frankly, he didn’t even know why they were allowed to exist. “No, they belong with me,” he replied.
“Are you sure? It’s a lot of responsibility for someone as young as you.”
Ignoring the comment, Remy asked, “What do I have to do to legally become my brothers’ guardian?”
“I’ll have the papers drawn up, ready for your signature tomorrow.”
Nodding, Remy stood, extending his hand. “That will be fine. Thanks.” Then he headed out to the waiting room where his brothers rushed him as soon as he entered. Taking Rune from Galen’s grasp and settling him on his hip, he said, “C’mon boys, let’s go.”
After signing the papers the next day and attending his parents’ funeral, Remy packed up his brothers’ few belongings and brought them back to France, where he began to build a new life for them…and himself.
Giving Rune a few apple slices in an effort to keep him quiet, Remy headed over to the doorway, scooping up Eamon who was running through it. Taking the sword from his hand, he set it down on the butcher-block counter, then, tickling his brother’s belly, he smiled at the sound of childish laughter filling the room.
“Noooo, Remeee.” Eamon made futile attempts to escape Remy’s hold, laughing as he protested being captured.
“Didn’t I tell you to wash your hands?” Remy said, giving a fake growl.
“I wuz fightin’ Gally.”
“Who was winning?” Remy asked, carrying his brother over to the kitchen sink.
“I wuz!” shouted Galen, standing in the middle of the kitchen, brandishing his sword.
“Uh-uh! I wuz!” Eamon yelled, squirming in Remy’s arms as he tried to get down.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Remy said, turning on the faucet, while lowering his brother so he could wash his hands. “Hey, use soap,” he admonished, handing a bar to his brother.
“Aww, why? Gally never does.”
“I do, too,” Galan yelled.
