Heart of the Country Read Free Page B

turned right, walking the long hallway that felt more like a corridor, my steps quiet against the burgundy carpet.
    I have very few childhood memories of my father. He seemed to look the exact same way since I was kid. Never aged. But never young. His hair was always white, like a snowdrift. His skin, baby smooth with ever-pink cheeks.
    As I walked silently, hesitantly, a single thought rolled through my mind. I was there to break his heart. It was under the guise of business and life opportunity, and we would both play along as if that were the case, but I was done. I had neverfit quite right into the family. I was the perpetual cockeyed glance. I was the backroom conversation. I was loved but not seen. Not like Jake.
    I checked my watch. Right on time. I turned the corner and walked into an office that required double doors to keep the world out. Or in.
    “Luke,” he said without looking up. “Please, sit.”
    I sank into a leather chair that felt more like a throne, adrift in his massive city. I was surprised Jake wasn’t joining us. He typically never left Dad unattended.
    What I’d figured might take ten or so minutes to explain took only two. I’d made the tactical mistake of handing over my documents too early, a distraction to Dad as he tried to listen to me and read what was before him.
    I held my breath but tried to look relaxed as I watched my father peer through his reading glasses, looking the sheet that I had handed him up and down. I started to fill the heavy silence that had come upon us, but Dad waved me off and demanded quiet. He then slid his glasses off his face, folding them carefully as he looked at me.
    “And you say you’ve thought this through?”
    “From every angle.”
    “You’ve already met with the Michov Brothers?”
    “Yes.”
    “This term sheet is final?”
    “It’s a done deal.”
    At my words, I saw my father’s expression change. I’d only seen that look one other time, years ago when my motherannounced in front of the entire family that she was divorcing my dad. Dad had never remarried and never would. Dara was the love of his life. But money was the love of Dara’s. When my father hit a rough patch and lost millions, she left.
    “Why would you want to leave us, Son?”
    I’d expected the question but not the tone, which was not harsh or angry. His steel-cut eyes looked dreadfully . . . disappointed? No. Sad.
    “Honestly?” I asked, biding my time a little.
    “Have you not been honest so far?”
    I put my hands on the armrests, felt the leather under my fingers. Most people would go their whole lives and never feel leather like this. But it meant nothing to me. Because it wasn’t by my own hand.
    “There’s nothing I can accomplish here.” I looked him right in the eyes like I’d practiced in every mirror in the house.
    “What are you talking about?” His hands pressed against his desk and I thought he might stand up. I hated when he stood up. “You have the entire world at your fingertips here!”
    “No, I don’t. I have your world,” I said, my voice more urgent than I intended. Why did I need him to understand this so much? “Dad, I am checkmated on all sides of this company.”
    I stood and began to pace. Another thing I hated because I did it when I was nervous, but I wanted him to hear me. “First, no matter how much success I have here, everyone will always say it’s because of you.”
    He lowered his eyes, staring at nothing on his desk.
    “Second, Jake is the first in line. There is no way I can ever run this company.”
    His stoicism returned and he folded his fingers together. “You think you’ll be running Michov Brothers?”
    I walked to his desk, put my hands on it, leaned in, a little ways across. Even so, I was still far away from him. The desk was so massive that when I was a kid, I got in trouble for lying across it to see if I could touch both ends at the same time. The rumor was it weighed four hundred pounds. Probably the