Page 2 of The Grump

“Careful, grandson. They’re going to start with a guilt trip,” David cautioned.

I laughed. “It’s their prerogative.”

“It makes no sense to keep it. It never did,” Isabeau sighed. “But it was something we enjoyed doing.”

“You want to sell itnow?” Celine asked, clearly affronted.

“Well, that’s a good point, dear. With Christmas peeping around the corner, it’s the busiest time for the business,” Isabeau added.

“The numbers are strongest this time of year. They make the most pralines around Christmas,” I said.

“Wemake the most pralines,” Isabeau corrected. It was obvious that these two were still invested in the business.

“Let me assess it all and see what’s best. Nothing will happen around Christmastime, as everyone is too busy ending their year to scout for new businesses.”

“Have you ever been to the confectionery?” Isabeau asked.

“No, Isabeau, I haven’t.” I didn’t have time to visit businesses that didn’t even cover their costs.

“Do pay a visit,” Celine said, “but after we do! We’d like to tell the LeCarre girls in person that things might change.”

“I was going to take a look at the place anyway. It’s part of the assessment.”

That seemed to appease them a bit, until Isabeau shook her head and said, “One of these days, I hope you’ll grow a heart, young man. Now you’ve got a stone.”

Oh boy.

“Isabeau, don’t be like that,” Celine chastised. “Xander simply wants to improve profits. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I agree,” David said. I could always count on the grandfathers.

I looked at him. “You know, I’m surprised this business survived all these years. Especially after Dad took it over.”

David started to laugh. “Xander, one day you’ll realize that even the toughest man wants to keep his wife happy. Always been my motto, and Felix’s too. ‘Happy wife, happy life.’ These two were happy as clams out there at their confectionery, messing around with chocolate recipes. They kept saying it was their way of blowing off steam, which never made sense to me. It’s just exchanging one kitchen for the other.”

“It’s not even remotely the same,” Isabeau countered.

“These two always left us to our own devices,” Celine said with affection. “And your dad...”

“Well, he has a bit more heart than you,” Isabeau went on.

I was laughing in earnest now. “Isabeau, this is more guilt-tripping than I was expecting from you, I have to admit.”

“The Orleans Conglomerate is very successful. I don’t see how having a branch or two that don’t perform is going to hurt that much,” she replied.

“It’s about the principle. Anything that bleeds money needs to be cut off.”

Isabeau shook her head theatrically. “Oh, Xander. You truly are hopeless.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Where everyone saw me as cutthroat, I saw myself as precise. When they said I was hopeless, I knew I was focused. There were only so many hours in a day; there was no point in dabbling in stuff that wasn’t worth the effort.

“Well, thank you for telling us,” Celine said. “Your secretary mentioned that you have another meeting starting in... oh, look at that, five minutes, so we’d best get a move on.”

“She said that?” I was stunned.

“I believe the implication was that we shouldn’t overstay our welcome.”

My assistant knows I like to keep things on schedule and probably just said that as a normal reaction.

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