“This may take a while.”
“I’ll reschedule your eleven o’clock and send Chuck to take him out to lunch.”
Chuck, aka Charles Mikkelson III, was Jeannie’s son, Glenna’s brother and second in command of the company. Heir apparent to take over when Jeannie retired.
If she ever retired. Jeannie was still vibrant and going strong, only in her sixties.
“That’s the perfect plan. Thank you, dear.” Jeannie waved Glenna and Broderick into the office and Jack closed the door behind them, clicking the lock to ensure there would be no interruptions.
Glenna swayed and Broderick palmed her waist. She couldn’t help but be grateful for the momentary steadying, even as his hand seared her.
Jack raised one eyebrow before saying, “Let’s all have a seat.”
Glenna self-consciously stepped away from Broderick, the tingle of his touch lingering.
The Steele patriarch pulled one of the green club chairs closer to the other, then touched Jeannie’s arm lightly as she took her seat. He eyed the sofa, making it clear that Broderick and Glenna were to park themselves on it like two kids waiting to be put in their place.
Broderick still wasn’t speaking, although he settled beside her on the apple-green sofa. Glenna couldn’t get a read on him, but then her brain was jumbled again just by the simple brush of his knee against hers.
What the hell was it with the Steele men?
Her mother and Jack were now holding hands like teenagers. It was sweet—sort of—but still such a jarring sight. “Mom, I know this is your personal business and I don’t want to pry, but you have to understand how confusing this is, given our families’ histories.”
“I realize this is more than a little awkward, Glenna, and we’d hoped to talk to everyone as a family soon.”
Broderick tapped the file against his leg. “Talk to us about...which part? The relationship between the two of you, or is there something else you want to share? Something, say, business related.”
Jack’s thumb caressed Jeannie’s wrist. “We want you both to know that this has come as a surprise to us, as well. Nothing happened while either of us was still married. We were very happy in our marriages.”
Her mom leaned forward, reaching out to Glenna. “I loved your father, you know that. I still do.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Son, you understand how...difficult... How...your mother’s death...”
Looking over with a sympathetic smile, Jeannie squeezed his hand before continuing, “Jack and I have spent a lot of time together these past months dealing with different EPA issues and concerns with the economy.”
“But our companies are in competition,” Glenna pointed out, still not understanding the situation.
“Our companies were eating each other alive. We would have been at risk from a takeover by Johnson Oil United. Their CEO, Ward Benally, has been making acquisitions and filings on their behalf that are concerning. We decided, out of a love for what we’ve built and for our home state, that we needed to talk.”
Talk? Glenna couldn’t help but note, “Clearly you’ve been doing more than talking.”
After the words fell out, she winced at her own lack of diplomacy.
Her mother, however, laughed with a light snort. “Clearly. We were as surprised as you are.” She tipped her head to the side. “Well, maybe not literally as surprised as the two of you were when you opened that bathroom door.”
Jeannie’s mouth twitched at the corners, then laughter rolled out of her. Jack’s deep chuckles joined hers and they exchanged an unmistakably intimate look as they sagged back into the chairs, hands still linked.
For some reason, that moment made Glenna far more uncomfortable than seeing them in towels earlier. This was about more than sex. This truly was a relationship, a connection, something she didn’t have in her life anymore, now that her husband was dead.
She might not have been married as long as her mother, but Glenna understood the pain of widowhood. And her deepest regret beyond losing him? She didn’t even have a child of theirs to love.
Glenna pinched two fingers to the bridge of her nose, pressing against the corners of her eyes, where tears welled. So much loss. So much change. Too much for her to process.
Broderick inched forward and slapped the file down on the coffee table. “If we’re all done with laughing, let me get this straight. The data and rumors that point to a merger of our two companies are not rumors. You’re genuinely planning to dismantle both corporations, and you expect us all to join forces without input or discussion.”
“No,” Jack stated.
“Of course we don’t,” Jeannie echoed. “We’re all adults and we have always intended to treat you as such. Things just happened so quickly between us we haven’t had a chance to bring you up to speed.”
“But,” Jack interrupted, “we intend to. And soon. Very soon, son.”
Broderick frowned. “Please say you don’t intend to put us all in a room together, Dad.”
“Not for the initial discussion,” his father answered. “We are smarter than that.”
Good thing. Being this close to Broderick, even for such a short time, was interfering with Glenna’s ability to focus. And it seemed she would need to keep her wits about her now, more than she’d realized even a half hour ago. “Mom, what exactly do you have in mind?”
“We want to arrange family meetings separately first,” she explained, her blue eyes worried but resolute. “We’ll need to allow everyone time to process what we have to say.”
“But then...” Jack held up a finger in a lecturing style that made Glenna wince. He wasn’t her father. And he wasn’t her boss. Yet. “We fully expect everyone to accept our decisions.”
Broderick gave a hefty exhalation as he sat back for the first time. “Dad, I think you’re expecting a lot awfully fast.” He turned to Glenna. “I don’t know about your family, but my brothers and sisters? They’re going to blow a gasket.”
Glenna was completely in sync with Broderick on that point at least. Because expecting her siblings to end a decades-long family feud after a simple conversation, expecting them to accept what appeared to be a blending of the businesses, too?
Blow a gasket?
Understatement of the year.
* * *
Broderick had eaten in restaurants around the globe, with food cooked by the finest chefs, and he’d enjoyed every meal.
But none of them outstripped the cuisine here at Kit’s Kodiak Café in the little town outside Anchorage. The diner, a rustic barn type structure, was perched along the bay’s edge. The paned windows presented a clear view of a dock stretching out into the harbor, an occasional whale’s back cresting through floating chunks of ice. Inside, long planked tables accommodated large, noisy groups—like his family.
Menus crackled in front of the others, but he knew what he wanted, so his menu stayed folded. He flipped his coffee mug upright to signify java would be welcome. The waitress took their orders with quick efficiency and no pandering, another reason they all enjoyed coming here. Their family was well known in this café, but they appreciated not receiving special treatment.
He and his siblings had been coming to Kit’s since they were children. Their father brought them most Saturday mornings and sometimes before school so their mother could sleep in. He would bundle them up. Half the time, their gloves didn’t match, but they always had on a hat and boots as they piled into the family Suburban.
Broderick hadn’t realized then how his