Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I glance down at the mug on his desk, questioning whether there’s a bit extra in his coffee. Dad flinches before picking it up and taking a long, deep drink. “Pure Colombian dark roast, if you must know. I wasn’t expecting you the other day and had a liquid lunch because I was working, something you know very little about.”
“You don’t know anything about how hard I work,” I scoff, quickly remembering the hours of sweat and aching muscles I get from my woodworking. “You don’t know anything about me, Dad.”
“Whose fault is that?” he accuses, then shakes his head sadly. “It breaks your mother’s heart.”
“Guilt trip? That’s what you’re going with?” I toss back. “If Mom wants to say something to me, she’s certainly strong enough and capable enough to do it for herself.”
Whatever his next strike was going to be is cut off by the door opening.
“Hey there, boys! How’s it going?” Uncle Jed bursts in with his trademark Colgate-approved smile as he pulls his cowboy hat from atop his head. The very air changes, feeling thick and heavy with his sliminess. He’s a good-looking man, I can allow that, with his full head of blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. Age has given him some wrinkles, but they serve only to lend him a sense of weathered ruggedness. If you saw him in passing at a party, you’d be impressed by his gregariousness and romanced by his charm. It’s only deeper that his true ugliness lies.
I see the moment he realizes I’m here. His eyes widen slightly, but he’s quick to play it off. “Wyatt! Well, I’ll be damned, boy. It’s been a while.”
He comes in closer, holding his hand out for a shake. I hesitantly glance at his hand for an instant, but shake it, not wanting to start off at worse odds than I’m already facing. That won’t serve me in finding out what’s happening around here. “Jed.”
“What the hell you been up to?” Jed asks as he perches on the side of Dad’s desk. It looks casual, a logical solution to there being no available chairs, but distance and time have allowed me to see that it’s so much more than that. It’s a calculated move that permits him to loom over all three of us, making him seem like the man in charge, though he’s in someone else’s space.
I purposefully smile as though we’re friends. “Little of this, little of that. But I’m sure you already know that, don’t ya?”
Jed chuckles, nodding. “Gotta take care of family, you know. Glad to hear your little woodworking business is doing well in Newport.”
Dad’s eyes cut to me in surprise, but he doesn’t speak. So Uncle Jed didn’t tell Dad about coming to see me. Interesting. Winston didn’t know where I was until he did some investigating, but Jed not telling his own brother about his kid is another level of shitty. I wonder if he was holding that card for play against Dad at just the right time too.
“How about you? I hear you’re up to big things in Cold Springs.”
“Oh, little of this, little of that,” Jed replies, throwing my own words back at me.
I do the same: “Yeah, gotta take care of . . . Cold Springs, you know.” His eyes narrow, so I dig a little deeper, at the same time lightening the mood strategically with a laugh as I ask, “What the hell is a private tech hub, anyway?”
“Damned if I know!” He slaps his leg, laughing at his own unfunny joke. “But I hear it’s all the rage, something about work-from-home folks wanting flex offices, fiber optic cables, and some other techy shit too convoluted for me to understand.”
He’s lying through his whitened, straightened smile, making himself seem like a good ol’ boy who doesn’t know a thing. Truth is, he knows each and every line item on his balance sheets at his company. But it’s a time-old trick so people will underestimate him. I won’t make that mistake. Not again.
“Gotta give the people what they want, I guess,” I hedge carefully. I want to get him talking about one of his favorite subjects—the first one being himself, the second being his work—but I can’t be too direct or he’ll be suspicious. “That the big seller for the new subdivision?”
Jed stands, helping himself to a cup of coffee from the pot on the side table. As he stirs a bit of creamer into the mug, he brags, “Yep. Tech hub, new schools, and some of the most beautiful homes I’ve ever built.”
Well, he’s talking, but that’s not new information. I gathered that much from the damn billboard on the edge of town. “That an actual compliment to the architects?” I ask, looking at Winston with a practiced smile.
Winston shakes his head, while Jed’s smile dims at my backhanded compliment. “Not me. I’m working on the overall development. We tasked a private firm with the floor-plan designs, and will offer a few different options for customization. But the feel of the entire development is my responsibility.”