Page 1 of True Honey
SHORE
Ipushed my fork around my plate until Mom reached over and slapped the back of my hand. I looked up at her, still beautiful through all this bullshit, and tried to smile.
“What’s wrong?” She asked like it wasn’t obvious.
Everything.
“Nothing. The game today was just stressful, and Grandpa’s late. It’s making me anxious,” I said, rolling my shoulders back. The dining table was dressed with the finest china, the shiniest silverware. And yet, it was just the three of us. Just like always.
I inhaled an annoyed breath.
“If he’s not here soon, I have work to do—”
“What are you complaining about now, boy?” Seymour Shore’s voice echoed through the halls of his massive, practically empty manor.
I looked around, feigning confusion. “Sorry, for a second there I thought you’d taken up haunting the estate. You look older today,” I insulted him and he laughed as he took his place at the end of the table.
It was a wonder he was still moving around the way he was. Most of his major joints had been replaced with metal and his dark hair was long, gray and thinning on the top of his head. He managed to hold onto the beard that covered his stern jaw, and never lost the ability to silence a room with his glare.
“I am,” he grumbled and adjusted uncomfortably in his chair.
“You look well, Dad,” Mom said, reaching over to pat his hand and he smiled at her.
“You always were my favorite daughter-in-law,” he cooed.
“I’m your only daughter-in-law, Seymour,” she joked.
The serving staff brought out the meal and my hunger got the best of me as I started eating the second it was set down in front of me. Grandpa and Mom engaged in small talk but we all knew that’s not why he called us here on a random Wednesday night. Family diners were Sunday,always. Tonight despite everything feeling like Sunday, was out of the ordinary. Which meant that he had business to discuss and I was already annoyed that he was tip-toeing around the issue.
He eats slowly, chewing every bite and sipping on his scotch between each one. He watched me carefully like he was doing it all on purpose to drive me nuts. And knowing Seymour, that was the point.
I finished my food and laid my napkin over my plate with a small huff.
“Thank you for dinner.” I extended my gratitude and pushed up from the seat, but Grandpa stared at me, his eyes cold and commanding. “Come on, old man,” I scoffed, “I have stuff to do, too much stuff for one person and sitting here agonizing over ham and potatoes was not on my Wednesday to-do list.”
“Spending time with your family is a chore now?” He asked me.
That’s not what I meant.
“No,” I sighed loudly, “I just need to be somewhere else. Dinner was lovely, tell Joanna it was wonderful.”
“You can tell her yourself when this conversation is finished,” he said, his eyebrows lifted and his head nodded to my chair. “Sit.”
I listen only because it might actually get him to talk.
He cleared his throat into his napkin, loud, harsh, and wet. When he lowered it, a spatter of blood bloomed red across the cloth.
“The board has concerns,” he said.
“We anticipated that,” I said. The most obvious of all our problems was my father and his fraud, tax evasion, and sketchy spending habits.
“The conversation they're looking to have isn’t just about your father, Silas. It’s about the future of this family's investments in Harbor, in the University. It’s about our legacy.” He swallowed roughly. His shoulders were brittle in his old age but he pinned them back.
“You own fifty-one percent of all the holdings, legally their opinions mean jackshit.” I swore, “Sorry, Mom.”
She raised an eyebrow and gave me a look.
“Exactly, I am the sole proprietor of our holdings,” he said. I could hear the frustration in his voice but I didn’t understand why he was wasting time worrying about that when we had damage control to do.
