Page 36 of Not Home Alone
“That time I went home last night and heard someone talking about how she couldn’t believe Merrily would forgive you. Goodbye.”
I hang up and enter the waiting area.
“They started without you,” Martha informs me, as she takes my coat.
“Can you bring me a coffee? Black. No flavoring of any kind, especially not peppermint. If the mug or the coffee has been within three feet of anything peppermint or cinnamon or gingerbread flavored or scented, then I don’t want it.”
“I don’t think a mug or pot of coffee like that exists in Holly Grove in December, Mr. Moody.”
She’s not wrong. This is going to be a long, terrible day and it’s all Merrily’s fault. My dad steps outside the boardroom, frowning at me, and it’s Merrily’s fault that I’m late too.
“Good of you to join us, Grant.”
“Good of you to start without me, Father.”
“Everyone else is already reviewing the financials I’ve provided. You’ll have time to look them over before we vote on my proposal. Have you made a decision?”
“I have not.”
“All right, then.” He gestures for me to join the meeting, like: If that’s how you’re going to play it—here’s my next move.
I enter the boardroom, and as if it wasn’t bad enough that Ava and Todd are rolling their eyes at me—like they’re keeping The Moody Group afloat just by showing up to one meeting on time—the entire room is decorated for the holidays. It wasn’t like this yesterday and it has never been like this before. There’s a Christmas tree and garlands and a huge ceramic gingerbread house as a centerpiece in the middle of the big mahogany table. And candy canes placed on the table in front of every chair.
“What happened…?”
“Joe Tucker delivered everything himself first thing this morning!” Martha says. “He said his daughter wanted him to show you some appreciation for your kindness. They’re just the sweetest!” She leans in, covering her mouth to tell me, “He also brought a Christmas badger statue that your father didn’t want in the building, so I took it to my car. I hope that’s all right with you.”
“It is exceedingly all right with me, Martha.” I take the empty seat, surreptitiously pull out my phone, and type out a quick text to Merrily.
GRANT: Not funny.
MERRILY: Fa la la la la la got YOU back!
I react to her message with a thumbs down emoji and wait for a reply.
“Awww, look at that smile,” Ava says from the seat next to me.
I’m not smiling. Am I? I lock the screen and put my phone away, not even acknowledging my half sister. Because I know what’s coming and she just needs to let it out.
“Shows up late and texts with his girlfriend.” She feigns a dramatic sigh. “Must be nice to be single and carefree.” And there it is. She holds up her board packet as if she’s reviewing it, but The Moody Group logo on the binder is upside-down.
“Must be nice to be married with kids and have the ability to read things upside-down,” I comment, as I open my binder. “I didn’t get a digital copy of this before the meeting.”
“Nobody did,” Todd says, exasperated as if we’ve been arguing for five minutes. “If you’d gotten here on time, you’d know that.”
These two are unreal. Ava runs The Moody Estate Vineyard and Winery—and by “run,” I mean she’d run it into the ground if someone else wasn’t picking up her slack behind the scenes. Todd is the director of operations for our ski resort and by “director,” I mean he has an office there that he takes naps in, and things somehow operate despite him. By “somehow,” I mean someone else also runs things behind the scenes.
They have different mothers and their trust funds were structured totally differently from mine. No contingencies that required anything of them beyond turning thirty, because they had no aspirations to run this company and my dad knew it. At least their kids are cute. We’re like the small-town version of the family in that HBO show Succession, except nobody wants to be my dad’s successor.
My father takes his seat at the head of the table and leans forward, clasping his hands together. “I’ll give Grant a moment to get caught up on the expansion plan, and then we can vote on the proposal and move forward.”
Expansion plan?
Scanning the papers in front of me, I’m seeing words that I never thought I’d see in a proposal at one of our board meetings. Certainly not from my father. And I do not like what I see.
“As you all know, I plan to retire next year, and as my final act as CEO, I want to move The Moody Group in a new direction. I want to expand my legacy beyond the confines of Holly Grove and its surrounding area. This, of course, is only relevant if the company remains in the hands of my family. As you all know,” he continues, “my son Grant is my choice for successor, and he will have to decide by the end of this year. Since he’s already based there, it would make the transition to New York City even easier. Moving HQ to Manhattan will position us for national growth across all divisions—access to capital markets, proximity to major investors, and the infrastructure to expand both our manufacturing operations and our commercial real estate portfolio beyond the Midwest. I will also be moving to New York when I retire—to ensure the transition goes as smoothly as possible.”
I look up at him. He has never, and I mean never, mentioned any of this to me before. Glancing over at my half brother and sister, they don’t look surprised so much as they look like they’re hoping my dad rents a second apartment in the Upper East Side for their families to stay in when they visit.
