Page 102 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“Not usually. And honestly, if they do, it probably means they’re really struggling. The thing I learned early on in Sweetbriar is that everyone gives back when they’re able. If Sharky were truly worried about theft, she wouldn’t leave the cash box right next to a sign that says ‘if you’re struggling, help yourself.’”
“That’s no way to run a business.” The lines reappear between his brows, and I can almost hear the gears working in his head.
“This isn’t about business, Thane. It’s about community. If you haven’t noticed, there’s not a lot of young people in Sweetbriar. Did you ever stop to ask yourself why?”
I hand him the cup of coffee, but he remains silent.
“In order to entice younger generations, there have to be jobs in the area, but the world has changed. Sweetbriar was a working community. The paper factory employed nearly everyone in town, but the factory couldn’t survive the digital age. Over time, more and more families have been forced to relocate, so the residents who have remained really have learned to lean on each other.”
“The Scuttlebutts.” His throat works as he takes a sip of coffee. At least his eyes appear to be focused now.
“Yeah. They take care of each other. It’s what I love the most about this town. I’ve never had that before. Sure, it’s annoying that they take over my office every Tuesday, but also, I get it. Mrs. Perez, the Carvers, they’ve been around long enough to know the cyclical nature of small towns. They latched on to me because they know that without new blood, their town and their ways, even the Scuttlebutts, can’t survive.”
“So, I need to bring jobs to the area.” He reaches into his back pocket and procures his notebook, causing my heart to pitter-patter a little.
He wants to help so badly, and he has no idea how good of a man he really is. He’s been living in the shadows his father created for far too long.
“No, Thane. Not every problem is a problem for you to solve.”
His head is down as he writes in that little notebook, reminding me of the piano player from Charlie Brown.
“But I can.”
I peer across the table at what he’s writing. It doesn’t make any sense to me. Words like paper factory, next generation, and financial infusion are written with arrows pointing one way or another.
His mind is truly a fascinating thing to watch in action.
“Thane.” I place my hand over his, snapping him out of his thought spiral. “This isn’t a problem for you to solve.”
“Every problem has a solution,” he mumbles. “Sometimes people don’t get creative enough to find them, but I always do. Bringing jobs to a hometown is a problem that requires an invested businessman. I’m invested. Hackers at your company require a Whac-A-Mole. Problems are simply equations to be solved, and I can solve them.”
Hackers? Ice cools the overheated blood that Thane generally evokes in me. How he knows about my hacker problem has been needling me since he first said it.
“Thane?”
He scribbles something else in his notebook.
“Thane.”
He nods, flips his notebook to a new page, and stares at it.
“How do you know about the hackers?”
The tiny pencil he’s holding stops moving, and his fingers turn white around the base. But it’s his lashes that flutter across his cheeks before he looks at me that makes unease slither into my gut.
“You said it.”
Did I?
When I remain silent, he nods again. “You were upset about me reading the letter from your father’s attorney, which I hadn’t intended to read, by the way, I simply required scrap paper, then saw the law firm logo. That’s when I decided to read it.”
The conversation replays in my mind, but I can’t recall all the details.
“I told you that my company and my roadblocks were not problems for you to solve.”
“Yes. You don’t want to partner with me in business. I heard you.”
He’s unnaturally still. With all my heart, I want to believe that he hasn’t gone behind my back. I want to believe that he isn’t like my father or his. But he’s also very passionate about the future of my company.
