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Part of me was a tiny bit worried about how the four men would get on. It feels like I’ve known Gabe and Alex forever, but that’s all observations from galas and the boardroom.
Ford and Sutton—because he’s always stuck to Ford’s hip—are protective of me, as only brothers can be.
But these four are getting on like mosquitos at a summer camp.
“To be fair, I don’t care for anyone who’s fake. Or a user,” Ford defends. He gives me that look. The ‘you know I’m right’ look. “Katherine is Mother’s crown jewel.”
“Ford—”
He laughs, plucking a caramel-colored marshmallow from his stick. “It’s true. She wants to put you in her pocket,” he says in a baby voice.
I roll my eyes. He’s not wrong.
“If she had pockets,” Sutton murmurs, and we all laugh because none of us have ever seen my mother wear pants, shorts, or jeans. Definitely not leggings. It’d probably blow her mind if she ever bought a dress that had storage.
“Our grandfather was not easily impressed. I’m afraid that’s just one of the traits he passed to her.”
“To put it mildly,” Sutton says, leaning back in his chair now.
“He also gifted her with his ‘win at any cost’ attitude.”
“Don’t forget ‘always maintain control.’”
Ford makes a sound of agreement.
My attention turns to Gabe. He had impressed Grandfather. His brain, his software, his vision. Of course, Henry Chanler would never say so in actual words, but it was obvious by the way he never let it go and was always reading the news articles about him. It really rubbed him raw that a ‘kid,’ as he called Gabe, was so popular. So brilliant and successful.
I doubt he saw all the hard work and sacrifice in Gabe’s life.
“He was an up at four in the morning person. Reading the papers. Reports. The man burned through assistants like cheap candles. Except for Sylvia.” A soft smile curves his lips, his gaze far off.
Sylvia had been more of a grandmother to us than any of the others who came through our lives.
The life he described seemed perfectly normal to me growing up. The long hours, endless reading, single-handedly keeping phone companies in the black.
Ford hasn’t said a word about our grandfather since the funeral. To me, anyway. Does he know what Grandfather put in his will? Does he have the same stipulation?
“He was hard on her.” It’s my voice now, adding to the history lesson.
“He was hard on everyone.” Ford reaches for his beer. “Did you ever meet him?”
He directs the question to Alex, who nods.
“A few times.” Alex’s gaze flicks to Gabe, whose hands are clamped over his knees.
Maybe one day I’ll hear his side of things, but I don’t need all the diabolical details to know my grandfather played dirty. He wielded power and money like swords and good luck to anyone who stood in his way.
When everything went down, Gabe was younger than I am now. No wonder my grandfather was impressed.
“I think we’ve let a dead man dominate the conversation enough,” I say, leaning forward. Gabe’s chin jerks in my direction, brows lifted. “May I have a s’more? It’s been ages since I’ve had one.”
Ford glances from Gabe to me and back. “Sorry, man.”
Gabe shrugs and drains his beer. He acts like it’s not a big deal, but that’s exactly what it is. An act. A charade to keep people from looking too deep, but I want to peel those layers and find the real Gabriel.
Marissa, my father’s chef, appears from the shadows with a fresh round of drinks and more chocolate. Blessedly, the conversation turns to brighter topics as Ford makes me a s’more.
Sutton and Gabe talk computers, which goes straight over my head. But as I watch the two of them, totally in their element, and nom my way through my dessert, I’m at peace.
