The Better Brother

It was no use. Jim Richardson was done. It was bad enough that he flew all the way to Texas to have this conversation, but when I basically ignored him in my own conference room, his anger became too much to overcome.

“I’m done,” Jim said. He shook his head and turned toward the door.

“Wait,” I said. I jumped to my feet and hurried to block his exit. “Just give me five more minutes, okay? I’m sorry about my behavior today. I truly am. But I can fix this.”

“How?” Jim demanded.

“I’ll get your tools today,” I said firmly. “If I have to drive them to Alaska myself, I’ll get you the tools today.”

Jim was already shaking his head before I’d even finished speaking. He just shoved past me and slammed open the door.

“We won’t be working with you any longer,” Turner said simply. “I expect that our contract will be terminated without any additional charges.”

“And if not,” Trey added. “You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

“Trey,” I said. Desperation dripped from my lips. “Turner. Just hear me out, guys. Come on.”

“We have Christmas plans,” Turner said. “We don’t have time to waste on you, Michael.”

They followed their father out of the conference room, letting the door slam shut behind them. When it did, I sank into the first chair I could reach and put my head in my hands. What was happening to my life? How had things gotten so bad so fast?

I didn’t know how long I sat in the conference room. My head was pounding from lack of sleep and stress. Not only was my personal life in a shambles but, now, my business was falling apart, too. It was as if the entire universe had begun to plot against me overnight.

“Mr. Smart?” Marcy asked nervously. She poked her head into the conference room just as I looked up.

“Yes?” I asked weakly.

“I don’t know if you want to talk to anyone right now,” she said slowly. “But your mother is on line one for you.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Marcy.”

Marcy hurried out of the room while I slowly pushed myself to my feet. There was a phone on the opposite end of the table. I made my way over to it, wondering how my mother knew I’d be at the office.

“Hello?” I said as I put the phone to my ear.

“Michael!” My mom’s voice was bright. I closed my eyes and tried to keep my annoyance in check.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” Mom said. “But I called your house and your cell first.”

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry about that. I’ve been in a meeting all morning.”

“On a Saturday?” Mom asked. I could hear the worry in her voice.

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Just some last-minute issues with a tool package I have up in Alaska.”

“Oh, okay,” Mom said. She didn’t really understand my work. Mostly because she never tried to. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get it all worked out.”

“I’m sure I will,” I said. “So, what’s up?”

I wanted to get off the phone quickly. My day was already miserable, and I wanted nothing more than to go back home and hide under my covers for the rest of the weekend.

“I’m calling about Christmas,” Mom said. “Are you still planning to be here?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”

“Okay good!” Mom squealed. “I’m so excited. Your father is, too. He’s been planning the menu for two weeks now.”