Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Excuse me?” Mr. Oleana frowns, the marionette lines surrounding his thin lips getting deeper and more pronounced.
“Oh, don’t be a grumpy ass. You called him a young’un first, so he called you an old fart. Seems like a fair turnaround to me. Now, boys . . .” She looks between us both, daring either of us to disagree with the word. When we’re both silent, she nods once in approval. “Let’s get on with chitty-chatting about my money because the Lord knows, I’ve got other things to do today.”
“Fine,” he grumps, tapping his papers on the table. Like actual papers with charts and graphs on them and what appear to be quarterly reports. The man must kill an entire forest a month with the way he conducts business.
I pull my tablet out of my bag, opening it to the presentation I put together to assure Mr. Oleana that I’m the man for the job and then opening another app to take notes.
The difference of a few decades in living color—black and white papers versus full-color technology.
But what he does has been working for Elena, and I don’t want to belittle that, even if I’m certain I can improve on it moving forward. “I’m looking forward to hearing how you’ve managed such a large and diverse portfolio for so long, especially as a one-man show, Mr. Oleana. That’s quite impressive.”
He narrows his eyes, not believing my bullshit for a second. But when I hold his gaze, he relents. “Fine. Call me Pat, and let’s get this thing done. There’s a beach calling my name.”
“A beach?” I echo.
Elena pats my arm, leaning over to fill me in. “He’s retiring to live near his grandkids out on the coast.”
I’m surprised. It must take a lot for a man like Pat to hang up his tie and coat to put on flip-flops and a sunhat. I sure as hell can’t see my dad doing that anytime soon. But . . . “Why not continue managing the Cartwright portfolio from there?” I gesture to my tablet, the one-stop shop that lets me work anywhere, anytime, and would do the same for him.
He shrugs. “It’s time. Me and Elena go way back. Hell, we used to play on the floor while our dads had lunches and meetings.”
He looks at her, and together, they say, “Bo-ring!” They seem to share such a bright familiarity, and I wonder if there was ever more than friendship between the two of them, back before Thomas came into the picture.
I smile politely as they laugh.
“What was I saying?” Pat asks.
“You were explaining why you’re not going to manage Elena’s portfolio from the beach,” I prompt, biting back a comment about his forgetfulness and whether it’s age-related.
He nods several times, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. “Have you ever done the same thing for so long you could do it in your sleep?” he asks. Not waiting for my answer, he continues, “That’s what this is for me. It has been the joy of my life to make sure the Cartwright estate is safe and properly managed. And for a long time, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. That’s why I’ve kept on. But it’s time for me to retire, and my kids don’t have a mathematical bone in their bodies, so I don’t have anyone in my family to pass the business on to. But I can’t leave Elena in the lurch, not after we’ve been through so much together.”
Elena smiles, but her eyes look glassy and wet. “Don’t go making me cry, Pat Oleana. I’ll have your ass on my wall as a trophy if you ruin my mascara.”
He chuckles and pats her hand. It looks more friendly and platonic than flirtatious, though. “You’ve worn waterproof mascara since the day you turned twenty-five and cried black rivers down your face when Thomas told your daddy that he would never ask you to change your family name and in fact, changed his to join your family.”
Wait, what?
I don’t know if I say something or make a noise, but Elena waves a hand at Pat and then explains to me, “Did you not realize that? Cartwright’s my given name from my daddy.”
I shake my head in confusion. “I definitely didn’t know that.”
Elena shakes her head, her eyes going distant. “It was quite the scandal back in the day. Everyone thought either I was a bossy heifer who wouldn’t let Thomas hold his own balls, or that he was a gold-digging thief who was going to steal my money and leave me buried in the woods off highway fifteen. Neither were true. He loved me and didn’t have a family of his own anymore, seeing as his parents has already passed. He was happy to join the Cartwrights and was as proud to bear our name as any born-and-bred Cartwright was. Daddy said he was an adopted son and treated him like family. Never called him an in-law once. Not a single time.” Her smile is wistful as she remembers.