Page 61 of Takes Two to Tango

''Not if he can take one more shot at the NFL," his father said in a way that brooked no argument.

"I don't want another shot at the NFL. And I don't want the company," Brent said, rising from the stool. Sitting put him at a disadvantage. He always thought better on his feet.

"What?" His mother looked confused. Or panicked.

''I don't want to buy into the company with Uncle Richard."

“Then what the hell’re ya going to do?" his father shouted as the teakettle whistled. "You can't make ends meet building damn bird feeders."

Anger bristled in Brent. He'd never been able to reason with his father. The man never listened. "Who said I'm going to make a living building bird feeders? You don't think I'm capable of making a living any other way than what you decide for me? I have a degree, you know."

"In British literature," his father scoffed. "What the hell kinda job can you get with that? All that time at UT and you get a degree in something that impractical." He spun toward Donna and jabbed a finger in her direction. "I told you not to encourage him to doodle around and make up poems and crap."

Brent's mother shrugged. "He liked to read and write. So?"

Brent slapped his hand on the granite, drawing the attention of both his parents. "I'm moving out of the carriage house. I'll pay you rent to cover the rest of this month and next. And I'll be giving my two weeks' notice to the company."

"Brent? What has gotten into you?" his mother asked. Her lined face reflected dismay, shock, perhaps a little aggravation.

''Fine." His father almost growled. "But I know you'll come groveling back when you don’t have enough money for all those beers you drink down at Cooley's."

Brent closed his eyes and tried to push aside the anger rushing toward the surface. He knew this would not be easy. Nothing with his father ever was. “I won't change my mind. I've needed a change in my life for a long time. It's past time. I have a new direction and my financial status is secure at present.”

"But surely you don't have to move? Where willyou go?" Donna asked, spreading her hands in a pleading gesture she'd used most of her life. Mostly with his father, who was as immovable as a mountain.

"I'm not sure, but I'm tired of treading water, Mom."

A furrow appeared between her eyebrows, but she nodded. "Okay. I see. You feel trapped by us. By the company."

Brent's father poured water from the kettle into his mug, but didn't say a word. His face was florid, making the shock of white hair look even more pronounced. Brent had always seen his father as strong and invincible, but he noted that the man had aged considerably in the past few years. Time had stamped its mark on Ross.

"I've been talking to Tyson Hart about the possibility of merging the companies. It's something you might want to consider."

''The hell I will!" Ross shouted, sloshing hot water over the lip of the mug. "Hamilton Construction belongs to me and Richard, and I'll be damned if I let some upstart come in here and try to buy us out."

Brent shook his head."Dad, he's not trying to buy you out. Just merge construction companies. He's been getting more contracts than we have. Business has been tough for us lately and joining with Hart will ensure there's a future. Tyson's a good man. I've drawn up preliminary paperwork. He's interested. Since I won't be continuing with Hamilton Construction, it's up to you. I'll send the proposal over and let you look at it. I didn't want to leave you hanging."

"Glad you thought about me.” Anger blossomed in his words. Their relationship felt thick as a fur parka and just as suffocating.

"Yeah, I did think about you. And me. And how it's been tough between us for a long time. Ever since Denny died." Brent moved to the other side of the counter so he stood beside his mom. Donna stiffened at the mention of Denny's name. As she always did.

"I don't want to talk about it." Ross tossed down the spoon he'd used to stir sugar in his tea.

"That's fine. We don't have to talk about it. Just know I love you and Mom. But it's time I cut the apron strings. I've stayed here in Oak Stand because it was easy. And I've been slowly dying inside."

"Oh, Brent," his mom said, reaching out a hand to stroke his arm. "Don't say that."

He patted his mom's hand. "It's okay, Mom. I'm fine because I know what I want in life. It took me a while, but I can see where I need to go."

"That's a bunch of hogwash," Ross said, jerking the tea to his mouth. The liquid must have been scalding because he hurriedly set it upon the counter after one sip. "You've been fine. The company's fine. What the hell have you been doing? Listening to self-help crap? You been going to that singles' ministry over at the Presbyterian Church? I heard they're all into empowering young folks."

Brent almost laughed at the disgust in his father's voice. He'd planned to tell his parents about his writing. A box of his newest books had arrived this afternoon. He'd planned on revealing his secret career and then taking them both to the carriage house to show them the books he'd penned. The awards he'd won. A copy of the three-book deal he'd just inked for a nice six figures. Butnow wasn't the time. His father needed space to adjust to the abdication of his only remaining son.

"Not exactly, Dad. But I have been doing some soul searching. And I guess that's been empowering." Brent leaned down and kissed his mother's head. Her graying hair smelled of some Estee Lauder perfume she'd worn since he was small. "I'm glad you're home. Get some rest. I know you're both tired."

His mother reached up and hugged him. 'We love you, sweetheart. We'll try to understand what you're feeling. It's not easy and it may take some time." She looked pointedly at her husband.

Ross grunted. “Night."

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