by Alison Stone
“Why did he cut Dad out in the first place?” she asked, emboldened by her mother’s unusual openness.
“Your father never wanted to talk about it. He simply said he and George didn’t see eye to eye.” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion. “When he left the company, your father planned to take his patent with him. George’s lawyers stopped him because of an intellectual property agreement. Before the lawsuit, we had high hopes for the future. He thought we’d be better off… Then everything changed.”
Better off? The only ones left better off were the Nowak family. The growth of Midport Industries had exploded shortly after her dad left, making the Nowaks a fortune. Yet the Nowaks hadn’t reinvested in the plan. She kept her angry thoughts to herself.
“I found a potential buyer for Midport Industries. I want to sell and give you the money.”
Her mother slipped into the chair across from Kathryn. Her tired smile accentuated the crow’s feet at the corners of her pale blue eyes. “It’s never been about the money.” She lifted one palm in a sweeping gesture. “I know this place doesn’t seem like much. But I don’t need much.” She shrugged. “That’s not what’s important.”
Kathryn palmed a tear running down her cheek. “Dad wouldn’t want you to struggle.”
“If Dad…” Her mother’s words trailed off. A dark shadow flickered in the depths of her eyes. An unspoken thought hung heavy in the air. If your dad didn’t want us to struggle, he wouldn’t have taken his life in the gardening shed.
Her mother waved her hands. Pressing her palms on the surface of the table, she stood. She gathered the half-full mugs. “I’ll be fine.” She rinsed them out and set them in the dish rack on the drainboard. “I‘ll be fine no matter what you decide.”
“I haven’t made a final decision. I need to talk with Benjamin.” Kathryn stared at her mother’s gray roots. “Hopefully we’ll be able to settle things quickly.”
“Your father was a good man,” her mother said, as if she hadn’t heard Kathryn’s last comment. Her mother braced her hands against the counter and bowed her head. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
Kathryn stood and closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s thin frame and closed her eyes.
“I miss him,” her mother choked out.
“I miss him too,” Kathryn whispered into her mother’s hair. “I miss him too.”
Chapter Three
Benjamin slipped the oil pan under his Ducati, then grabbed oil and a fresh filter from his workbench. Working on his motorcycles was like therapy. Better than any shrink. And man, did he need some head straightening after talking to Johnny’s widow, Monica, this afternoon. Whenever he thought of her grief-stricken face, he remembered why he had chosen to live the way he had for the past ten years—independent, on his own terms and not beholden to anyone.
He squatted down to unscrew the drain plug when he heard a deep sigh. He came up faster than he should have, considering he hadn’t intended to stand at all, and knocked his head against the handlebar. Rubbing his head, he turned around to find Kathryn standing in the doorway, a small smile on her pink lips.
She lifted a brow. Amusement lit her eyes. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
Benjamin wiped his greasy hands on a rag. He rested his backside against his workbench, crossing his arms, watching her with curiosity, wondering what had brought her here.
“I had to get out of the house,” she said, answering his silent question. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her long black dress coat. It looked expensive. “I was driving around and noticed the lights. Figured you might be tinkering back here.”
He flinched, although she probably didn’t notice. Tinkering. That’s what his father always called it. Like working with his hands was somehow less than using his full capability. He shoved the memory aside. Nowadays he found his thoughts were jam-packed with memories. And darn it if one wasn’t standing in front of him now.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, today was one crummy day.”
Kathryn moved farther into the garage and leaned back on his workbench. He lurched forward. “Whoa there.” He caught her hand and pulled her forward, away from the bench. Her delicate fingers felt familiar. “Don’t mess up your coat.”
Regarding him warily, she swiped at the back of her coat. Her lips formed a perfect O.
“I think you’re okay. No harm, no foul.”
Kathryn shifted her feet and fidgeted. It was strange to see her in his garage. As teens, she’d watched him rebuild a 1964 Triumph. She had been his first passenger. Now here she was again.
For the briefest of moments, he had the strangest sensation. As if the steady hand of time had reversed itself. As if they had seen each other only yesterday. But all he had to do was study her face to realize she wasn’t the same girl who’d let her long tangle of curls whip around her face as they flew down the road in his convertible, letting her fair skin sunburn and freckle. She was mature, sophisticated and cynical. Time had a way of shaping a person.
“Benjamin,” she finally said, snapping him out of a long-forgotten memory, “something has to be done about the plant.”
He hesitated, fearing the answer. “What do you mean?”
“It’s outdated. Johnny was killed,” she said, as if one had to do with the other. She tilted her head and flattened her palm against the exposed flesh of her neck.
“The plant is dated, but we comply with OSHA regulations.” Benjamin fisted his hands. “Johnny took off the safety guards.”
“He shouldn’t have been able to do that.” A small line creased the fair skin of her forehead. “It shouldn’t be that easy.”
Benjamin chose his words carefully, anger seething under his calm exterior. “It’s an old plant. We don’t have all the modern conveniences of the plants where you’ve worked. But we still meet compliance.” Guilt dogged him. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince anymore.
Kathryn shook her head, her blue eyes snapping with anger. “It’s your responsibility. Money should have been reinvested into safety improvements.” He didn’t miss how her attention shifted from his Ducati to his Aprilia, probably calculating the money he had spent on his motorcycles. Little did she know, he had purchased these bikes long before returning home to run the plant.
Benjamin clenched his jaw. “Don’t try to pin this on me.” Regret and guilt sat like rocks in his gut. “I’ve only been here six months.” The last six months while he watched his father die.
“Don’t give me that. The Nowak family has owned this plant for ten years. You had a responsibility.”
Benjamin felt a tightness in his chest. If he hadn’t been so mad, so upset, he might have agreed with her. “I suppose now you have a responsibility.”
Kathryn waved her index finger near his chest. Her blue eyes sparked, making him wonder how many men had been at the receiving end of her temper. She worked her pink mouth before finding words. “Yes, I do. But this accident, my friend, is on your head.”
Kathryn’s cheeks burned a bright red. He understood her anger all too well. Johnny had taken a shortcut that had ended his life. The image of his widow’s tear-stained face came to mind, deflating his anger. Even so, he wasn’t in the mood to agree with Kathryn, to tell her no one could make him feel worse than he already did.
Benjamin turned on his heel and planted his palms on the surface of his workbench, his frustration mounting. He didn’t kill Johnny, so she had no right pointing her long manicured finger at him.
Could I have done more to assure his safety?
He shook his head. Bringing Kathryn back into his life must have been his father’s revenge for all the times Benjamin defied him growing up. As a teenager, he had realized it was easier to get his father’s attention by breaking all the rules instead of following them.
“Listen,” Kathryn said, her voice getting closer, “I didn’t come here to fight.”
He turned aroun
d and looked past her to the artificial light spilling onto the gravel driveway. Then he retrained his eyes on hers.
“Johnny stopped me in the tunnel this morning.” She bit the inside of her lip before continuing. “He wanted to meet for coffee.”
“Did he say why?”
“To talk. I thought maybe…” Her voice trailed off.
“That he was asking you out on a date?”
Her eyelashes swept her pink cheeks as his words apparently hit home. Tipping her chin toward him, her lips curved into a shy smile. “What do you suppose he wanted?”
“I don’t know.” Benjamin brushed past her and beyond the light filtering out from the garage. He peered at the bright moon. “Johnny wanted out of the warehouse.” A long sigh escaped his lips. “I did him a favor getting him this new assignment.” He had gotten Johnny this job. It was his fault.
“You did him a favor?” Did she mean to sound accusatory? A favor. Or had he projected his own feelings onto her words?
Kathryn moved next to him and placed her hand on his arm. Her touch caught him off-guard. “Have you had dinner?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Come on.” The gravel crunched under her feet as she turned to walk away.
What choice did he have but to follow?
“There’s Betsy.” Benjamin gestured toward the lunch counter with his chin. He and Kathryn occupied a booth by the window of the only diner in town. The dinner crowd had come and gone, and only a few stragglers remained. Her sister filled a few coffee mugs at the long lunch counter. Smirking, she looked up and lifted her carafe in greeting. Had she felt them watching her?
Betsy scooted from behind the counter and approached them. “Hey, guys.” Her eyes seemed to bounce from Kathryn, to Benjamin and back. She lifted her shoulders and emitted a quiet squeal before giving her sister a quick hug. “It’s so great to see you.”
“You too.” Kathryn shifted her eyes to the diners at the counter. “Still holding down the fort here, I see.”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “It’s what I do. So what can I do you for?” she asked, changing the subject. She poured Benjamin some coffee.
“I’ll just have a soda. Thanks.” Something to settle her stomach.
Benjamin folded the menu and placed his order. Apparently stress made him hungry.
Betsy jotted down the order and tucked the pad into her apron. “I’ll put this in and come back to chat in a minute.”
Kathryn nodded. “Sounds good.” She hoped to discuss some things with Benjamin before her sister returned.
“Your sister has done a lot with this place,” he said after she was out of earshot.
For the first time, Kathryn looked around. Really looked. The diner she remembered had been worn and dated. This diner, although still with most of the same furniture, had nice touches like newer valences on the windows and vases with flowers on the tables.
“My sister?” A pang of guilt hollowed her stomach. The diner and her sister’s subsequent employment caused many disagreements. Betsy could do better than waitressing in a small town diner identified only by the giant FOOD sign mounted in red block letters on the side of the building.
“The owner has slowed down quite a bit. Your sister is doing a lot more here than serving food.”
“Probably without additional compensation too,” she muttered before she had a chance to check her comments.
Benjamin seemed to regard her for a moment. “Remember how we used to meet here almost every day after school?” His shift in topic caught her off-guard.
“Yeah.” A warm feeling coiled deep inside her. “I never grew tired of their Italian sausage sub.” Or your company. They were like two peas in a pod. Best friends. “And you ate the chicken fingers.”
“I’d have a spare tire if I ate like that every day.”
Kathryn laughed, maybe a little too forced. “We’re not that much older.”
“What, ten, eleven years?” he said, raising his brows. “A long time.” Benjamin eyed her, and an emotion flickered across his features and disappeared.
Kathryn lowered her gaze, running a finger along the edge of the table. “The reason I came by—” Why is this so hard? “—I have a company interested in buying Midport Industries.”
Benjamin’s head jerked back. He seemed to mentally compose himself, shifting his attention to unwrap his silverware from the white paper napkin. He lined up the fork, knife and spoon in a neat row. He proceeded to rip open two sugar packets and pour them into his coffee. He picked up his spoon and stirred. The clanging of the spoon against the sides of his mug filled the silence stretching between them.
Before he had a chance to respond, Betsy returned with their orders. Kathryn tore the paper off her straw and jabbed it into the ice.
Benjamin smiled up at Betsy. “Do you have any of those special desserts you make?”
Her eyes lit up. “I sure do. I was experimenting with chocolate almond Bavarian cream. Want to try one?”
“Definitely. After my sandwich.” He took the spoon out of his coffee and placed it on the napkin. A small brown spot formed beneath it.
“You make desserts?” Kathryn’s eyes widened in amazement, momentarily forgetting the proposition she had just laid out on the table. So many things she didn’t know about her little sister.
“My secret passion.” Betsy lifted her hands in a flourish.
“Since when? You couldn’t manage a toaster when we lived at home.”
“You and I haven’t lived at home together since I was thirteen.” A critical tone laced Betsy’s voice.
Heat crept up Kathryn’s neck and cheeks. “I’d love to try one of those desserts too,” she said, a little belatedly to be taken as sincere.
“No problem. Two Bavarian creams.” Her sister ran a hand across her apron before leaving.
Kathryn lowered her head and twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Some things never change. Like Betsy and me. In her eyes, I’ll always be the judgmental older sister.” She sat back. The coolness of the vinyl-covered booth felt good through the thin material of her blouse.
“Maybe you shouldn’t judge her so harshly.”
“I only want what’s best for her.” Across the diner, Betsy chatted with the customers and filled their coffee mugs.
“Like you only want what’s best for me and this town?” Benjamin’s harsh tone made her snap her attention back to him. Fire danced in his eyes.
“Midport Industries is not for sale.” His pulse roared in his ears.
“Don’t make any decisions right now. Think about it.” She stabbed the ice with her straw.
He shook his head. Had Kathryn honestly thought he’d want to sell the plant? Obviously she knew nothing about him. Or the man he had become. Benjamin had promised his father he’d continue his family’s legacy, which meant running Midport Industries.
Then why did Dad will half the company to Kathryn? This undermined his ability to keep the promise he’d made. Unless his father didn’t think he was fully capable. But then why entrust him with the business at all? It didn’t make sense. He pushed the questions out of his mind since no one, not even his lawyers, seemed to have an answer.
“I don’t need to think about it. Midport Industries is not for sale.”
Kathryn stared at him in disbelief, then slumped in her seat. Letting out a long sigh, she raised her palms in a surrender gesture. “We’re both too tired to discuss it tonight.”
He shook his head. “Or any other night.”
Kathryn squeezed the back of her neck and tilted her head from side to side. “Maybe you should discuss it with your brother, Craig?”
“Craig has nothing to do with this.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he studied her. She had yet to touch her food.
“My mother said he was an officer in the Army.” Kathryn folded a corner of her napkin over.
“After West Point he served a few years then returned home. Dad was grooming him to take over the plant, but
with everything going on in the world he reenlisted. He felt it was his duty.” The Golden Boy always did the right thing. Benjamin was proud of his brother but resented him at the same time. Craig cast a mighty long shadow.
Growing up eleven months younger than his brother in a small town had been torture. He thought he had escaped to his own world, his own identity, when his father’s illness drew him back in.
“You sound like you’re disappointed he’s not the one running the company.” Kathryn twirled a straw wrapper around her finger, doing a pretty good job of avoiding his gaze.
“I had a good thing going in Atlanta.”
He perceived her silence as an invitation to pour out his heart. She had a way of knowing when he needed to talk. She had always been a great listener. Had things really changed that much? In the short time he had been with her, he knew some things hadn’t. Like how she still blushed fiercely when she was embarrassed and how she played with a strand of hair when she was nervous. Crazy how those little things made her feel like home.
“What?” she asked, apparently sensing his evaluation. She reached for a strand of auburn hair. He felt a knowing smile pull at his lips.
“Nothing. I was just zoning out.” He shook his head. “A partner and I own a motorcycle shop and a racetrack for dirt bikes. A motocross track. My business partner is running it.” He picked up his coffee mug. “I may eventually sell it to him.” Only as a last resort. He had worked too hard to build the business. He hoped to go back and forth between Midport and Atlanta and keep his hand in both businesses. He had his own identity in Atlanta, separate from his brother and his father. His past.
He liked it that way.
Kathryn released the strand of hair and placed her hands flat on the table. “This would be a perfect opportunity. Let Xenon see the facility. If they make us an acceptable offer, you can go back to Atlanta full time. Motocross is your first love, right?”
