Page 9 of Christmas Coffee

Palmer replies after looking up from his notes, “Yes, five grand. And you’re forbidden to add to it with your own funds. It’s a challenge and that is the point—we need to see what you can do with that amount of money in forty-five days.”

I turn and ask, “Who will decide if I succeed or not?” How do we ensure there isn’t a bias against me? I glare at Uncle who is standing beside his desk, jaw locked. His expression is void of emotion. The only thing that gives away his anger is the tiny vein throbbing at his temple.

“A secret board will decide,” Reginald replies and glances at Uncle, then sighs, “Yes, you have a right to be on the board, as do I. I’m the one who will examine the books and see that profit and paper match. To prove competency you need to net a minimum of two thousand dollars.”

I still have no idea what I’m selling, but I think I can manage to earn two grand in a month. Either way, it’s this or walk away from everything I worked for. If I hadn’t botched that pharmaceutical deal, I wouldn’t be standing here now. I took full accountability for that when it happened. I pinch the bridge of my nose and consider it for a moment. I have to do this. I worked my ass off to get here and it’s what Dad wanted.

I press my lips together and feel the resolve building within me. I nod once at Reginald. “You have yourself a deal.”

Uncle is shaking his head, and snarls, “That’s not good enough and you know it, Reginald. This is for the boy to prove himself and with a bar that low, he’s likely to trip on it. He has to net the full investment amount by December 31st.” His cold eyes bore into me, knowing that the task is highly improbable.

My spine straightens, but I hold back my venom. It won’t help now. Startups don’t turn profits for years. Asking me to earn that much in that short a period is insane. “That’s impractical. You know yourself that most businesses take years to get out of the red.”

“Yes, they do, but I have never, in all my life seen someone hemorrhage money the way you do.” With every step toward me, Uncle spits out barbs laced with truth. “Your businesses fail because you have no vision, and no leadership skills. You throw money at problems and make small issues into monsters. I’m not letting you near Bardenbey. I’m not going to sit idly by and watch the company your father and I built get ripped apart by some arrogant young prick. Turn a profit of five grand by New Year’s Eve. That’s my stipulation and it’s more than fair with your shitty track record, Celyn. Take it or walk away.”

My jaw locks as Uncle stands nose to nose with me. His cold eyes lock onto mine, challenging me to defy him. I won’t back down. I refuse to slink away without a fight. I hiss through my teeth, “This is all I have left of my father, and I won’t hand it over without trying.”

Uncle’s lips pull into a lazy smile. “Try all you like, but you won’t succeed.”

I glance at Reginald and ask, “I have to earn ten grand total, after expenses? Five pays off the original $5,000 to start the business and then I have to profit another five grand on top of that?”

Reginald nods. “Yes, that’s the agreement, but it’s going to be very difficult, Celyn. You have no stock, no inventory, and aren’t likely to get any this close to the holiday season.” Reginald looks at me with those old eyes which seem to apologize for Uncle and then fill with pity.

I don’t do pity. I’m in a pissing contest with Uncle and if this is the only thing that will appease him, so be it. I jut out my hand toward Reginald Palmer. “Deal.”