Daddy entered the room and pulled the door closed behind him. Trap sat down at the same time he did, letting a long sigh out of his mouth.
“I thought things were going well,” Daddy said.
“They are.” Trap nodded, not quite sure what the root of his discontent was.
“Then what’s with the sigh?” Daddy asked.
Trap wanted to spin in the chair and look out the window. It showed him the lane leading along the south side of the ranch, and then a whole horizon of fields beyond that.
“I think I tried to grow things too fast.” Trap spoke slowly, because he’d never said these words out loud. “I can’t run MSW from a cowboy cabin here at Seven Sons,” he said. “We have a staff of six now, and we need a central office.”
“Then get a central office,” Daddy said.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What about it?” Daddy asked.
“Do you think I’m stupid for wanting that?”
Daddy tilted his head and watched Trap with those eyes that reminded him so much of a mother eagle sitting on her nest, watching to make sure predators didn’t get too close. “Son, you have a very different vision for MSW than your mother and I had.”
That only made Trap frown deeper. “Well, I don’t want that,” he said. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Trappy, that you want this to be a thriving, successful construction business.”
“Yeah?” Trap felt like he was guessing. “Isn’t that…isn’t that what you and Momma did?”
Daddy smiled at him, and Trap craved his easy smile. “Your mother and I wanted it to be something we did because we loved it. We didn’t need the money. Your momma restores things because she loves it, and I build things because it keeps me busy, and out of your momma’s hair, and brings a great deal of satisfaction to my soul.”
“I like building things too,” Trap said.
“What’s the last thing you built out of sheer joy for the project?” Daddy asked.
Trap’s eyes dropped to the desk. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
“I used to find you out in your mother’s workshop on a daily basis.” Daddy chuckled, a new fondness to his tone. “Remember how we set up your own workshop out there, so that you could explore and build with any kind of wood, and whittle, and practice joints?”
“Yeah.” The memories of his childhood and teen years flowed through his mind, quick and slow at the same time.
“What’s the last thing you whittled?” Daddy asked.
Trap looked up and then raised both hands, empty as they were. “I don’t have time for whittling, Daddy.”
“We always have time for the things we love,” Daddy said. “I thought you were trying to get more rest in.”
“I am,” Trap said.
“Seems like maybe you’ve traded your hobbies to have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah,” Trap said, because he couldn’t argue with that either. “Do you think that’s stupid?”
“No,” Daddy said. “Not at all, Trap. And it doesn’t matter what I think anyway.”
“Yes, it does,” Trap said. “You’re my daddy, and you built this business, and I want to honor that.”
“I built the business into whatIwanted it to be,” Daddy said. “And you and Jason and Sawyer are going to build it into whatyouwant it to be.” He leaned forward, his expression now more earnest. “Okay?”
Trap nodded, his emotions quivering right on the edge of a knife.
