Eric by Jody Kaye (uplifting novels .TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Jody Kaye
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Ross harrumphs. “You didn’t notice it says right here the additional materials were ordered for Kingsbrier? The transportation cost alone indicates the shipments were going to separate sites.” He points to the dollar amount right below the discount I’d managed to eke out of the supplier. “I’d never pay this much for a single haul. And the invoice shows payment’s been made from two separate accounts. The corporation’s and mine—if you are nosy enough to want to know what I spend my money on. So, your signature is on the delivery? That means it’s your oversight. Mistakes happen, but who is eating the cost of delivering my materials to Kingsbrier? I doubt you’d want me to dock your wages.”
“No one told me.” He glowers.
“I sent an email to anyone waiting for a portion of the supplies,” I say.
“This is construction. Who the hell reads email?”
Ross walks towards his office. “Eric, you will come with us for a moment?”
The foreman follows. I shut us in Dad’s office.
Ross tosses an embroidered Cavanaugh Construction jacket over the back of his chair and stands behind his desk, pushing his knuckles into the top. “You know I have five kids, right?”
The guy nods.
“Good. See, this is a private company. If I die tomorrow those nineteen-year-olds automatically become the bosses. Each of my boys has a vested interest in our success and has worked summers for this company longer than I’ve employed you. You’re damn lucky this is Eric you are dealing with. He’s responsible and level-headed, no matter what anyone out in the warehouse has tried to insinuate. My youngest son, on the other hand, isn’t as forgiving. He’d have your head on a platter.” He pauses to let the seriousness of the situation sink in. “Knowing my boy the way I do, I’m assuming you didn’t go to Eric but instead decided to escalate the issue. He could have shown you the same information you chose to ignore. Now, to me, it looks like you were trying to pull a fast one, make my kid look bad. It doesn’t sit well. Not one bit. You call the supplier and get them back to the Johnson’s to pick up and redeliver what belongs at Kingsbrier.”
“Okay, boss.” The guy’s line of vision bores into my dad. He’s flushed and angry over being put in his place.
“One more thing, I like to think of myself as fair. I’ve given you a damn lot of second chances. This is the last. The more slack I’ve cut you, the more you’ve used it to hang yourself. One more accident on a site, or I even get the slightest notion you’ve been talking shit about this situation, and you’re done. Own your responsibilities, don’t make others scapegoats in your faults. You want to start looking for a new job now, it is fine by me. I’ll keep you on the payroll until you find something, but don’t bother to show your face around here if all you’re going to do is continue screwing up.” Ross doesn’t allow a response or bother to watch him leave.
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Behind the wheel of the old truck that us quints have used, my mind is like a pinball machine. This residential site Dad asked me to drive him out to inspect is behind schedule because of the rain. How long it takes to dry out is out of our control. Ross lent his company truck to a foreman who was having car problems. My siblings will be back soon and we’re back to five of us vying for two vehicles. I’m budgeting to get Gin and me a car of our own, but want to keep finances tight with the cost of the sitter because who knows how many more instances there’s going to be when we’re paying and Corey’s under the weather.
“The baby doing okay?” Dad asks, breaking the silence as we head home together.
I’m borrowing a humidifier from Momma when I drop off Ross.
“The baby’s fine or, rather, Ginny was fine once she got back to him after her shift.” She left me a voicemail, sounding tired but relieved, and saying the pediatrician told her not to worry, babies get colds.
“Ever going to tell me why we need another barn?” I bring up the morning’s fiasco.
“You like the Johnson plans? I hired the architect to make modifications.”
I give a non-committal response. The dimensions of the Johnson’s horse barn, meant to show off prize-winning stallions, are staggering. It’s slated to have two stories plus a loft. The blueprints also include a patio and balcony off of the second floor. It’s showy. A lot showier than what’s needed at Kingsbrier, especially since pretty much no one rides the horses now that Daveigh is gone.
Cris has been marking off sections all around the area to till. The Kingsbrier barn will sit off the access road a bit further down the lane than the current barn and other structures, like the stable apartments.
“So what are you growing, Dad, magic beans?”
“In a sense. Remember when your mother and I went to Napa a few years back? I got to thinking we have all these empty acres of pastureland. Retirement is around the corner. Profits from the company are at an all-time high. So why not?”
“You’re planting grapes?” I tap the steering wheel, joking, “Brier will die when she finds out about this.”
“There’s a reason why I waited to get into winemaking until the lot of you were grown.”
“Hold it. What does Cris know about winemaking? He works with animals. You hired him as a caretaker.”
The young father had seen the advertisement when he was visiting Texas. Cris was looking to get away from LA, slow his life down, and focus on his son.
“Turns out Cris’s dad was a migrant worker near San Antonio. When he got his citizenship he was hired on at one of the vineyards. It’s a real bootstrap story. Before his death, he became a sommelier. I liked Cris and, knowing his roots, wasn’t letting the opportunity pass me by. What he isn’t already aware of from being raised by someone in the industry, we’re figuring out together as we go along. Though, initially he may have thought I was joking when I said I was opening a winery.”
“You’re starting a new business, at your age?”
“Construction is a young man’s game, Eric. Prime for you and your brothers to take on if that is what they want… Know what I wanted when I started out? To build my own house. It’s a buzz-kill when you marry a girl who comes with her own mansion. The new barn will be my house, a place to relax, kick up my feet, and have a drink. I think it is cool that I’ll be drinking my own ’shine. Do I sound like a coot? Don’t be telling your brothers and sisters I’m trying to reclaim my youth. Hell, don’t be telling them anything yet, so we’re sure to have all hands on deck for this barn raising.”
“We’re cool, Dad,” I respond, using the same word my father had. “Thanks for trusting me.”
Thanks for believing in me.
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27
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“Who taught you to plow a field?” Brier kicks her heels up on the wheel of the tractor, reclining in its metal seat.
“Daddy, same as you.” Adam knocks her boots down.
“Well, you stink at it. Look at all those spots.” She cocks her head toward the field. A few areas could use another pass to even out the grassy mohawks in the churned dirt.
Daveigh walks out thirty feet, crumbles the dirt in her hands, and shakes the stalks of grass loose before tossing them aside. “I agree with Brier, Adam. Colton always had perfect lines. I almost expected him to make designs in the grass like crop circles or the way they mow at major league ballparks...Nothing seems right here without him.”
“Looks fine to me,” Adam responds after our youngest sister takes care of the last of the dirty work for the day. He jumps on the tractor, making a seat out of the front engine block and splaying his legs over the steering wheel.
The three of my siblings returned to Kingsbrier, expecting to rest. Daddy gave them a day to unwind and at daybreak, playing a rendition of Reveille, had them out here when the sun rose. Hours later, it’s beginning its descent below the horizon. We’ve managed to move over half of the earth we were told to.
I took the week off from Cavanaugh to bust my ass here, but I know the importance of this project for my family. Since this is spring break, Brier’s positive she should be at the beach with a margarita in her hands, not sweaty and dusty. She’s openly pondered where a bunch of nineteen-year-olds were scrounging beer from. I haven’t let on any of what’s happening tonight.
She looks at the remaining markers with orange ties stuck in the ground, marking off the sections left to. “He’d a had this done without us, you know?” she remarks wistfully. “Why’d things have to change?”
We’re all missing Colton. He mowed the fields. Not because they needed cutting. And not because he was told to do so. The rest of us would hear the tractor’s engine purring in the distance, and understand while he worked through whatever was on his mind, it was going to be a quiet day. It was his version of therapy.
“C was so peaceful out here. Made it a whole lot easier to play spring soccer knowing he wasn’t gunning for a fight.” The other three chuckle as I brush grime off my jeans.
Brier wipes at her eyes.
“Don’t go all mushy on us. We have a whole week of chores to get done and one less person doing them.” Adam rubs his nose and looks away.
“Colton sends Momma a message almost every day.” I kick a clump off of the oversized tire.
“What’s he say?” My older brother’s envy is as green as his eyes.
“Stuff about his day, working out, what movies he watches.”
“Nothing about what he does?”
“No, dumbass. I doubt the Navy wants a sailor to tell his mommy back in Texas about Iraqi insurgents and members of the Taliban shooting at you.”
Daveigh’s phone buzzes. Our hopes are dashed, thinking maybe it’s our missing brother when Daveigh uses her best Pollyanna voice talking to our mother. She ends the call, stuffing the cell in her back pocket. “Everyone is waiting on us for dinner.”
Daveigh tucks herself under my arm. I squeeze her and give her a peck on the temple.
Torn between missing out on my family and not making the limited time I have with my siblings count, I’ve left Ginny alone with Corey on a Sunday. My brother and sisters won out because they’ll be gone again within the week to finish out the school year. Although, I’ve anticipated getting back to Gin all day.
Across the field, towards where Cavanaugh Construction is pouring the concrete foundation for the new barn, doors rattle, thumping shut. Daddy’s truck turns over and heads towards the access road.
“He’s making us walk, isn’t he?” Adam says, sourly. He jumps down, offering Brier a hand.
“It’ll be worthwhile when we get there.” I stroll at the back of the pack, noting how the shafts of sunlight glisten off the pond water near the house. “Dad plans on finally letting y’all in on what’s happening.”
“I knew you knew!” Brier points an accusatory finger, heckling and berating me. “We’re supposed to be a team. How could you have kept a secret from the rest of us?”
I shut my mouth and turn my fingers, locking my mouth shut, and tossing the imaginary key toward the field. Our father wants tonight to be perfect and because of this, so do I.
“Does
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