“You didn’t stunt me, Momma,” I said as I ran my fingers over the letter.
I wasn’t there for my mother when she was alive. I didn’t work hard enough to prove to her that her parenting tactics worked. I was ungrateful about everything she gave me, and I was lazy because I knew she would continue to give it to me, no matter what. Instead of growing into a man who took care of his mother, I grew into a man who took advantage of her.
I couldn't be there for her when she was alive, but I sure as hell could do it now that she was dead.
“I will do this for you,” I said aloud. “And you’ll be proud of me. I promise.”
And as I backed away from the letter, sitting my ass on my kitchen counter, I felt tears rise to my eyes as I thought about the emotional state she must’ve been in when she wrote this letter.
“I’m so sorry, Momma,” I whispered. “Please forgive me.”
Chapter Twelve
Stella
Bagel in hand, I walked through the doors of the offices only to be met by Christian. I looked down at my watch, realizing it wasn’t quite 8 yet, and I honestly had to say I was impressed. To my knowledge, Christian had never taken a job that required him to be anywhere before noon, but he was still wearing that goofy-looking suit.
And he was holding two cups of coffee.
“Care for some caffeine?” he asked.
“Thanks,” I said.
“So, I’d like to start off today with a little meeting between the two of us,” he said.
“Alright. What’s up?” I asked.
“Come on into my office.”
I watched him turn around and wondered where in the world this was going. Christian wasn’t one to take the initiative, so the mere fact that he was commanding me to do something was well beyond him. I followed him into the office he had outfitted for himself, and he beckoned for me to sit on the couch in the corner with him.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I know you’re not happy about me handling the company, but I want you to understand that I’m taking this very seriously,” he said.
“Alright.”
“There’s a meeting we have on Friday with a potential client,” he said.
“Oh, really? And who is this client?” I aske
d.
“It’s a doctor that has moved into town and is opening her own practice. I think it would be good if you came with me. I think she might feel better discussing things with a woman, and you are still more knowledgeable about the products around here than I am,” he said.
“I take it they’ll be needing the basics? Regular orders of gauze, needles, that sort of thing?” I asked.
“Yep. She admires the reputation Harte To Heart has in the community and rallies around the charities your father donated to. I told her we could meet with her Friday to solidify things as well as answer any questions she might have. I would also like to prepare her a ‘welcome to the family’ sort of box with things she’ll need right from the get-go.”
“Like gauze, trial medications, canes to display in her office, things like that,” I said.
“Yeah. I thought that might be another good incentive the company could start doing. You know, to attract more regular clients. Oh, and I wanted to know what you thought about warehouse-to-doctor shipping. It would enable us to take on more clients without having to house all the inventory. Plus, we could start offering more of the bigger items, which would bring us more profit faster,” he said.
It was like I was looking at an entirely different person. Christian was no longer the idiotic, bobble-headed boy I’d always seen growing up. He had somehow become knowledgeable enough about running a business to know about these kinds of things, which told me he must have worked on this over the weekend.
Suddenly, his baby blue eyes were looking out from the face of a man instead of a child.
“If you could reach out to the warehouse contacts and get them on board, we could even start offering a few purchases online. As a test run. We’d have to hire a web developer to set up the store for us, and possibly revamp the website, but the upfront cost would be worth it in the long run. I had a few of the employees shoot me suggestions to my email over the weekend.”