Chapter Six
Trace
“So, tell meabout your first week.”
“You know I’m meant to give you a break from work,” I teased my grandfather, but the way he cocked his eyebrow at me and glanced over my shoulder to make sure my grandmother wasn’t around to hear him told me he didn’t intend to quietly retire.
“I want to find out how you’re doing at the helm. That’s allowed, isn’t it?
“And that’s all this is, right? You’re not trying to make sure that I’m running the business in a way you approve of?”
“Trust me, I’d find out if you weren’t.” He brought the brandy snifter to his lips. The minute I’d come into the study, he’d cajoled me into giving him the drink. I caved in like I always did when I was around him.
I put my brandy on the table and pursed my lips. Feigning a stern voice, I asked, “You’re still in touch with people who work at the office?”
Not fazed, he waved a hand. “Of course I am. I worked with some of those people for years. I’m not just going to walk away from them because I’m not there anymore.”
“And you’re confident that they’d report back to you if I was doing something you wouldn’t approve of?” I chided him. He glanced away from me, and I knew at once that I’d caught him out.
“It’s not that I don’t think you’ll do a good job. The advertising and marketing world is ever-changing and can be daunting for a newcomer. I know some of the people were angry at my sudden departure, but it couldn’t be helped. I didn’t want them to judge you before they gave you a chance.”
“Doug Raley’s not too happy. He made that clear at one of the meetings the other day.”
“Doug’s a good guy, but he’s a bully. He’s got some great ideas, but he needs to be reminded that the agency runs on team effort, not just on what he wants. I figured he’d be upset when he found out I’d stepped down. He’ll come around.”
I leaned over and patted my grandfather’s veiny hand. “I’ll take care of business, and when I run into a snag, you’re the first one I’ll call. Velocity is you, and that’s never gonna change.”
Thomas Linder, founder of Velocity, would never fully let the reins go, and I didn’t want him to. If he was forced to do it, he’d shrivel up. He needed a purpose in life, and I had no intention of shutting him out—doctor’s orders notwithstanding.
“Back to my question. How was your first week?”
“It was a lot to take in,” I admitted. “But I’ll get there. Everyone’s being pretty accommodating.”
With a grin he ran a finger along the rim of the snifter. “You’ll find that everyone is when you’re related to the founder of the company.”
I laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m rich and privileged so everyone treats me nice.”
“Never forget that.” His eyes sparkled in the glow of the crackling fire in the fireplace.
We fell into a comfortable silence, and soon my grandfather’s eyes began to droop as his head bent forward slightly. I smiled as I took him in. When I was a kid, he was a giant of a man. Now he was too thin and pale, and sun spots freckled his hands and face, but he was still a giant in my eyes. The spark that lit up inside him when he talked about Velocity was something I never wanted to see burn out.
Glancing around the room, I remembered how I used to love sitting on the overstuffed leather chair near the fireplace on rainy afternoons. The built-in bookcases held treasures for a sad, eight-year-old kid who’d just lost his beloved dad. In the early months of living with my grandparents and coming to terms with the fact that I’d never see my dad again, the books on the shelves saved me. Instead of trying to understand the raw, savage ache deep inside me, I lost myself in the enchanted world of Merlin and King Arthur, and lived the seafaring adventures alongside Jim Hawkins inTreasure Island.The leather-bound books filled a dark void in my young life, and it was during that phase that I began a love affair with reading.
A swoosh of cold air funneled into the room, and the thud of a closing door roused my grandfather. “What’s that?” he asked, straightening up.
“It’s only me,” my grandmother said as she breezed into the library. I started to get up and she shook her head, her pale blue eyes sparkling. “Don’t get up. I’m so happy to see you. How are you?” She came over and kissed my cheek, the familiar smell of lavender surrounding me.
“Good.” I stroked her soft cheek.
Glancing sideways at my grandfather, she asked, “You haven’t been talking shop, have you? You know the doctor doesn’t want your grandfather to get too excited.”
Before I could answer, he grumbled, “What does the damn doctor know, anyway? Just sitting here being quiet gets me excited.”
“We’re good,” I added.
“Old goats never learn,” she said gruffly, but a glint of love shimmered in her eyes. She went over and kissed him on top of his snowy white hair, then sat down in the chair across from me. “What’s going on with that woman you said you were seeing?”
I cleared my throat.How the hell did the subject change so quickly?My grandmother was obsessed with me settling down, and each time I shared anything about my dating status, she’d cling to it like ivy around a tree. The only reason I even shared anything about women with her was to keep her off my back for a while. My mom used to ride me about it too, but since she’d remarried a couple of years before, she’d let up a lot. But Grandma? Not one iota. As a matter of fact, she stepped up her “Get Trace Married” campaign with each birthday I celebrated.
