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He unclenched his hand, saw the half-moon impressions from the pen. The cost of being in control was sometimes a little discomfort. The world simply continued on, not bothered at all by what was going on behind closed doors in an office building in a small town. They were a blip on the radar, frankly, not important enough to even warrant concern.
Sam exhaled and turned back to his screen. There was work to do, and the war was still very much on. He didn’t get very far, however, when his office door opened once more.
But this time, he was happy about the visitor.
Frankie Winslow swept into the office, a large brown bag in one hand and her backpack in the other. She’d always said she wasn’t the purse-carrying type.
She didn’t bother with a greeting, just dropped the bag onto Sam’s desk and collapsed into the guest chair. “You look like shit,” she said, not unkindly. He loved that she didn’t bother with any pretense. Not with him, anyway. “How’s the first day?”
He loved all of his siblings, but Frankie was his twin. It didn’t get any closer than that.
“I’m pissing everyone off.”
Frankie’s mouth curled into a gleeful smile, and she waggled her eyebrows like a villain in a bad movie.
“Good. That means you’re doing your job. As long as it’s Rick and Henry.”
“Those two are the entire opposition at the moment. You just missed them, by the way.”
“Thank God, I didn’t run into them. Henry is so useless. How can Dad stand him?” she asked with a roll of her eyes.
“Dad likes it when people agree with him. Henry agrees with everything.”
“Well, he’s a slimy worm,” she declared, pushing the bag toward him. “Tate sent this. He said it’s the only way you’ll get a decent meal today.”
He had been getting hungry, but he hadn’t relished a trip down to the company cafeteria. He didn’t want to deal with the questions about his father.
Sam looked inside the bag and let out a happy sigh. Cheeseburger and house fries, a slice of chocolate cake, and a folded napkin with TATE scrawled across it in block letters.
“Tell him thanks,” Sam said, digging into the burger that was blessedly still warm. Frankie must have hauled ass to get here. “I owe him.”
“All the thanks we need is for you to clean up this cesspool of a family business. I don’t know what Dad was up to, but I bet it was no good.”
“I have a few ideas,” Sam said. “And I won’t let you down.”
Frankie stood, tossing her backpack over one shoulder.
“You better not. It’s about time one of us fixed things.”
“Should I ask?” Sam said between bites. “Have we heard anything new?”
“I talked to the doctor about an hour ago,” Frankie replied. Moving toward the door. “He’s in stable but serious condition. No changes, really. He’s not out of the woods, but every hour that he’s alive increases his chances of staying that way.”
“I guess that’s about the best we can expect.” Sam paused for a moment, not sure how to express his thoughts. “I don’t want Dad to die.”
“I don’t either,” Frankie said. “What we all really want is for Dad to change, but he’s not going to do that, is he?”
“No, he’s not.”
Joel Winslow didn’t think anything was wrong. He didn’t have a problem. They did.
She turned to leave, then paused at the door.
“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”
“He doesn’t want me here,” Sam reminded her. “This was for Zack.”
“There are some things even Joel Winslow can’t control. You’re going to do an amazing job, and Dad is going to act like this was all his idea. Mark my words.”
