and the numbers would have to add up, for her to vote for it.
If he couldn’t sell her on the city spending twenty-five thousand dollars a year, she would sway the other members to vote against the proposal. Even the ones who usually voted with him.
“It’s still not fair,” Jake shot back. “And I don’t think you should vote when I present my proposal to the board meeting.”
“Didn’t plan to. Or on mine, either,” Peter replied. He turned to Corbett. “When do the ninety days start?”
“And who will run the company until the winner is declared?” Jake asked.
“The ninety days starts now, and Jake will continue to run the day-to-day operations.” Corbett took two letter-sized envelopes from his briefcase. “This is from your grandfather and to be read in private.”
Peter took the envelope, and his breath hitched at his grandfather’s large, flowing scrawl. It was hard to believe he was really gone.
* * *
AFTER PETER AND the attorney left, Jake wandered around the den, mentally forming a plan to win the contest. Becoming CEO of Elliott Manufacturing had been his lifelong dream. He couldn’t believe his grandfather hadn’t left it to him outright, instead of making him jump through hoops.
But, if it took jumping through hoops, he’d do it. He stopped in front of the bookcase and ran his fingers over the spines of a few of the books. The Hunt for Red October, The Firm... He paused to count a series collection and smiled. Every one of the Jack Reacher books was there.
Yeah, his grandfather was a man’s man, and for as long as Jake could remember, he’d wanted to be like him. On another shelf above the books were several of his grandfather’s carvings, and Jake slipped a small whittling knife from his pocket.
Out of everything Richard Elliott had ever given Jake, the knife meant the most. It’s my favorite knife, he’d told Jake. It’s small enough to carry with you—that way, if you can find a piece of wood, you’ll never be bored.
Like everything else, the knife was an object lesson. Jake no longer remembered what underhanded thing he’d done to Peter, but his grandfather had caught him at it. Winning is good, but it’s not the most important thing. How you win is much more important, and I want this knife to be a reminder that win or lose, it’s all about honor.
He wished he could say he’d always followed his grandfather’s words. If the truth were known, probably the opposite was true, especially when it came to women...or Peter.
Jake crammed the knife back in his pocket. He didn’t know why he still carried it, unless it was to remind him of his connection to his cousin.
He and Peter were so different, even down to their styles of running businesses. Peter, a textbook type A personality, liked having his finger on the pulse of every aspect of a project, where Jake usually took a more relaxed stance. And while it might look like he wasn’t really doing anything, the job always got done.
He looked up as Millie entered the den.
“Oh! I thought everyone was gone. I’ll come back later.” She turned to leave.
“Don’t go,” he said, suddenly tired of his thoughts.
Millie hesitated. “You miss him, don’t you?”
“Yeah. It helps that you and Gunner are staying on, though.”
“Mr. Elliott was a generous man, and Gunner and I want to help keep this place like he wanted it.”
“I know what you mean.” Jake sat behind his grandfather’s desk in the leather chair.
Millie’s fingers fluttered to her face. “Oh, my goodness, how you remind me of him.”
“Me?” Jake had never thought he looked like his grandfather. That honor went to Peter.
“Except for your dark hair, you could almost be him sitting there.”
Jake sat a little straighter. He’d always been told he favored the O’Neils, especially his father. Not something he liked to hear since Keith O’Neil was the poster child for wild living and divorce after leaving Jake’s mother.
“Are you going to do it?”
He frowned. “Do what?”
“Build the senior center Mr. Elliott wanted.”
“You know about that?”
She nodded. “Your grandfather and Gunner and me used to talk about it. He—your grandfather—drew up a plan...” She glanced toward the walnut file cabinet in the corner of the room.
His heart speeded up. He and his grandfather had discussed the senior center he wanted built, but Jake had no idea there was a plan. If he could get his hands on it, he’d be light-years ahead of Peter.
“Do you know when the city council meets?” he asked Millie.
“The first and third Tuesday. They’ll be meeting tomorrow night.”
His mind whirled. If he worked at it, he could present his proposal to the city council at tomorrow night’s meeting. But he needed a director...or maybe two.
He eyed Millie. “You and Gunner are pretty familiar with what Grandfather wanted, right?”
She beamed at him. “We are.”
The couple might not have MBAs, but they knew what the senior center needed. He raised his eyebrows. “How would you and Gunner like to be the directors of the Richard Elliott Senior Center?”
“Why, that’s exactly what your grandfather suggested,” she said.
“Good. It’s settled, then. In the beginning, there won’t be any pay, though.”
She put her hand on her hip. “Wouldn’t take it if there was any.” Then she frowned. “But how will you get the city council to put money into it? Your grandfather was worried about that.”
Jake was as well, especially since he wasn’t that familiar with the council members. The only member he knew was the one for his district, Boyd Anderson. He wished now that he had attended a meeting or two. But at least the mayor was a good friend.
“Isn’t that nice Nicole Montgomery on the city council?” Millie asked. “I know you could charm her into voting for it.”
He searched his memory. He wasn’t familiar with her as a council member, but he’d gone to school with a Nicole Montgomery. The image of a dark-haired teenager floated to the surface—could that be her?
“Do you know where I could find her tomorrow?”
“She’s the bookkeeper for her daddy at Montgomery and Sons Construction Company,” Millie said. “And her mother is in my book club—we meet tomorrow night. I’ll work on her.”
He stood. “Good. Now, let’s see if we can find Grandfather’s plan for the center.”
If he could get Nicole Montgomery on his side along with the mayor, Peter wouldn’t have a chance.
NICOLE MONTGOMERY CAREFULLY put the sixtieth candle on her father’s birthday cake, and wondered which of her brothers would make a crack about Daniel Montgomery not burning down the house. “Do you want the cake in the dining room?”
“On the buffet.” Her mother turned to get something from the refrigerator.
Nicole pushed open the dining room door and couldn’t keep a grin from sliding across her lips. She shook her head. As usual, her mom had gone all out. Blue and white streamers hung from the ceiling and birthday balloons floated up from their tethers, competing with Christmas decorations that had been up since the day after Thanksgiving.