May Major looked at the long Starbucks line and groaned. There’s a Starbucks on damn near every corner, she thought. Why are the lines always so long at every single one?  She checked her watch. It was just after eight in the morning; she still had plenty of time.

At the head of the line she saw a tall man, over six-foot-four, towering over those behind him. He was an older man, but very striking, with broad shoulders and a full head of graying hair that, at one time, was brown. She craned her neck to get a look at his face, but couldn’t see.

A twenty-something year-old blonde girl with stringy hair and red glasses was taking the man’s order. May couldn’t tell what he was saying to her but she giggled twice, blushed and played with her hair, totally flirting with a man who had to be older than her own father.

May exhaled, trying to refocus on why she was here. She glanced at him again, though, thinking it had been a long time since she’d had sex. From the rear, at least, the man looked hot and judging by the barista’s reaction, she suspected the front of him was equally so.

“I was so sorry to hear about your father,” came a voice from behind.  “He was a very good man. I will miss him.”

May turned to see a frail woman in her seventies standing behind her.  She’d never seen the woman before but wasn’t surprised someone had recognized her. It was a small town and Mike Major had been the richest man in it. Besides running the largest business in town, he was well-known for his charity foundations and his community service. When he passed away unexpectedly a few days ago, the local paper dedicated an entire section to his memory, recalling his life achievements. They included her picture in that section.

“Thank you,” May said, forcing a smile. “That’s so kind of you.  Did you know him?”

“Everyone in town knew him, dear,” she responded, “or knew of him. I knew him well enough to say hello when I passed him on the street. He always stopped to chat for a minute or two. Oceanside will never be the same. Everyone in town is in shock. We were all saddened.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you so much for thinking of us.”

May caught herself using the word ‘us’ again, implying there were more members of a family to consider. From the moment she received the news of her father’s death, everyone she knew offered condolences to her and the whole family. The truth was, now that Mike Major was gone, May was the whole family. Her mother was gone. She had no siblings, no grandparents, no cousins, no uncles or aunts.

The first couple of times people expressed their condolences to the family, May explained the lack of family, but the people sharing their best wishes looked even more saddened than before. So, she decided to just accept the gesture as it was intended, smiled and thanked them.

When she arrived in town the night before, well-wishers had filled her father’s living room with flowers and tokens of appreciation. She had no idea what she’d do with it all.  She moved two feet forward as the Starbucks line grew shorter at a snail’s pace.

“The paper mentioned no other family,” the woman continued, as if reading her mind. “Just you.”

“That’s right,” May said. “My mom passed away many years ago. Dad never remarried. I have no brothers and sisters, nor did my dad.”

May looked at her watch again, mentally estimating how much time it would take her to get her coffee order and find a table before her father’s attorney, Mr. Preston Marbury, arrived.  She wanted to re-read through the email he’d sent her before speaking with him. 

The email had intimidated her. The amount of responsibility that landed on her the moment her father died was overwhelming.

There was a table in the far corner. The couple sitting at it was just standing to leave. May asked the woman she was speaking to if she would hold her spot in line long enough for her to put her briefcase and laptop on the table to claim the spot.  The woman happily agreed.

May walked to the table and placed her briefcase on one chair and her laptop case on the other. She placed the keys to her rental car on top of the table. The large man she’d admired while standing in line was sitting at the next table. He looked up from the newspaper he was reading and made eye contact, briefly, before turning back to his paper. 

She had guessed right. The gentlemen was incredibly handsome.

“Excuse me, sir,” May asked. “Are you going to be here for another few minutes?”

“I am,” he said. He gave her a small smile. May smiled back. The gentleman was striking but certainly older than herself by fifteen years or more, putting him into his late fifties. His skin was tanned and his face covered in a sexy week-old scruff, peppered gray. He was slender in the waist but broad in the shoulders and chest. A large military-styled tattoo covered most of his chiseled forearm and bicep.

“I’m meeting someone here,” May continued. “I’m just getting coffee now. Would you mind watching my things for a few minutes?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said.

May smiled again, “Thank you, Mr… uh…”

“Jessup,” he said. “Jorge Jessup. And the pleasure is all mine.”

He smiled at her. She noticed his white teeth, thick eyebrows and the glint in his dreamy green eyes. The man was a total hottie.

May smiled again and got back into line. She ordered a sugar-free vanilla latte. She smiled at Mr. Jessup again as she sat down, pulling her laptop from the bag and powering it up. Mr. Jessup was reading and seemed fully engrossed. It was now eight-twenty-five. Preston Marbury would be here any moment.

May read through Mr. Marbury’s email to her again, pausing to sneak a glance in Mr. Jessup’s direction. She got a nice side view as he continued to read the paper. He wore tight faded jeans with the t-shirt tucked in them. His waist was tight and small; his thighs were huge. This was a fine looking, powerfully built man sitting near her. Still, he was almost old enough to be her…

“Ms. Major?” a male voice called out.

May stood as the owner of the voice approached the table with his hand extended, “I’m Preston Marbury.”

He was in his mid-to-late sixties, short and thin, balding with wispy white hair on the sides.  He wore a white oxford shirt and tan dress pants supported by maroon suspenders.

She smiled and shook his hand, “May Major. Thank you for being on time.”

“I’m always on time,” he said. “For those of us who have the gift of punctuality, we so rarely have the opportunity to share it with anyone, so thank you.”

“Would you like some coffee?” May asked.

“Heavens no,” Marbury replied, sitting and opening his briefcase. “Starbucks is horrible.  Everyone thinks so.”

There were at least thirty people packed into the small coffee store at the moment who seemed to think otherwise, May thought, but decided not to mention.

“Sorry,” she said. “I thought this might be a good place to discuss matters. I didn’t want to come to the office and have employees asking questions I couldn’t answer.”

Marbury pointed at the newspaper Mr. Jessup was holding, “After the rather lengthy article printed in the Oceanside Review memorializing your father, there is no place in town where you wouldn’t be noticed, but this place is as good as any.  Please accept my sincere condolences for your loss. I served as your father’s attorney for over nine years.  He was an incredible man.”

“Thank you, Mr. Marbury,” May replied. “As you may or may not know, my father and I grew apart over the last few years. The relationship was getting better, but I didn’t speak to him all that much.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “As much as I admired Mike Major, I also knew him well enough to understand how he might not have been the most… dare I say… warm and caring father.”

He had no idea, May thought. Mike Major was admired by his business associates and loved by the community but his personal life had always been a hot mess. He divorced her mother. She and her mom moved to Seattle over thirty years ago when she was eleven. Her father had tried to maintain a relationship at first but as time marched on those efforts became fewer and fewer. In reality, she did little to push it herself.

“Thank you for your understanding,” was all she said. “So, in addition to being my father’s attorney, you and he were… friends?”

“Close friends,” Marbury replied. “I spent time with him the afternoon he died. He seemed perfectly healthy. Your father was a big fan of exotic tea blends.”

“I remember,” she said.

“I’d just received a tea blend from China that I knew he’d love,” Marbury said. “I stopped by his office. We enjoyed a cup of tea together and chatted—mostly about hunting. It seemed just like the end of any other week, but that night… well…”

His voice faded.

“You’ll need to walk me through my dad’s wishes regarding the business,” she said, changing the subject. “Tell me, who is running the business now?”

“Technically, you are?” Marbury said.

“Me?”

“Yes. It’s been five years, but your father created a succession plan in the event something happened to him. That plan included naming you as his legal representative in all his personal matters and appointing you as interim CEO.”

“Interim CEO?”

Marbury nodded, “I think your father assumed you would not want to remain as CEO.”

“He assumed right,” May replied. “The thought of it scares the bejesus out of me.”

And that was putting it lightly, she thought. She knew nothing about timber or business, but this move was so like him. What had he gotten her into? What the hell was he thinking?

“I can well imagine,” Mr. Marbury agreed. “You find out your father has died and are expected to make all his funeral arrangements and step in to manage an enormous business you know nothing about. I can only imagine how overwhelming this must be for you.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” she said.

“Did he not share any of this with you?” Marbury asked.

“No,” she said. “Is this even legal? Don’t companies of this size have some obligations to…”

“Major Timber is a privately-owned company, Ms. Major. He can do what he wants. Unfortunately for you, his death could not have come at a worse time. The company is facing crisis.”

“What kind of crisis?”

“Please, allow me to explain. Your father was the principal owner of one of the largest regional timber companies in the Pacific Northwest. For almost forty years, Major Timber Logging operated under a promise made by the Federal Government that they would manage their timberlands in such a way as to provide sawmills with raw material into perpetuity.”

“It sounds like that may have changed, right?” May asked.

“It did,” Marbury affirmed. “In the late 1980s, the promised supply of timber diminished.  MTL no longer had access to public timber to support the mills.  Your father was not about to slip quietly into the night, however. In 1999 MTL became a landowner with an initial acquisition of just 30,000 acres of timberland. That land replenished raw materials and allowed the company to thrive. Today, Major Timber Logging owns and manages over 165,000 acres of Oregon forestland. The company is Oceanside’s largest employer.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the crisis,” she said.

“The competition is strong,” Marbury said. “The revenue has been slipping and the overall value of the company has dropped by a third. Your father was looking at… options.”

“From your email I gather that there is a third party in the mix,” May continued.

“That’s right,” Marbury replied. “Your father was in the critical stages of negotiations with Redwood Timber Industries out of Northern California for the sale of the company. RTI is one of the largest timber-producing companies in the United States. They have sixteen mills in California, Nevada and Idaho and have been looking to enter the Oregon market for some time.”

“And you think my father wanted to sell to RTI?” May asked.

“Yes, and his investors want to as well,” Marbury said.

“His investors? I didn’t even know he had other investors. I thought it was just him.”

“Not for a long while, now. Your father needed outside capital to acquire property in 1999. There are six investors who own forty percent of the company. Your father retained the other sixty percent.”

“And these investors all want to sell?”

“Yes. It must happen. They stand to lose a substantial portion of their investment if a sale doesn’t occur.”

“Why would an outside company want to buy Major Timber if the business was failing?”

“Major Timber owns 165,000 acres of prime forest. RTI wants it. It’s the company’s biggest asset. Redwood Timber has already bought three other smaller timber companies in the Portland area and have combined them into one. They need this land. If Major Timber doesn’t sell, RTI will use its new Oregon assets to take over the market and squeeze Major Timber out,” Marbury said.

“How could they do that?”

“RTI could lower the price of timber and poach Major Timber’s existing customer base. MTL would respond by lowering their prices to keep its customer base but that would eat into their profits and cripple the company financially. Redwood Timber has sixteen mills. They can afford to take a temporary loss in one of them. MTL has one mill.”

“So, Major Timber would be unable to absorb a loss of this nature?”

“That’s right. This sale would be the company’s lifeline. The investors are extremely concerned that Mike Major’s death will kill the negotiations.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

“We were at a critical stage, Ms. Major. The negotiations must continue.  It’s what he wanted. It’s what his investors want. Your father left all his shares of the company to you,” Marbury said. “I take it you don’t want to run a timber company… do you?”

“No, I don’t,” May replied. “I have a job and a life in Seattle.”

“I think you should make all this easy on yourself,” Marbury said. “Appoint me as your proxy to negotiate and complete the sale of the company. I’m pleased to take the burden off your shoulders. I have been involved with the negotiations from the beginning. It would be easy for me to step in and finalize the sale. When it’s completed, you’ll never have to worry about money again—ever.”

“How much money are we talking?” May asked.

Mr. Marbury took a small notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. He wrote down and number on a slip of paper and slid it across the table.

May’s gasped when she saw the number. She knew that she would figure prominently in her father’s inheritance, but had never given the enormity of it much thought… until now. She had been getting by financially but money was tight. The thought of never having to worry about money again was certainly exciting but… a bit overwhelming.

“And if we don’t sell?”

“Then Major Timber Logging will eventually lose its business to RTI and shrink into bankruptcy. You father’s legacy will be tarnished. Your inheritance could evaporate.”

“How long would we have?”

He shrugged, “It could be five years, it could be a year. It depends on how aggressive RTI wants to get. The point is, they are offering a good price now to take over a healthy but struggling company. If we wait until the inevitable, they’ll be able to pick through the carcass of the company and buy whatever remains for pennies on the dollar. Your father’s estate will suffer. His investors will lose everything. You will lose everything too.”

Marbury fell quiet as May paused to allow everything he’d said to soak in.

“And you could do all that for me?” May asked, finally. “I mean, you can act on my behalf and sell the company and that would be the end of it?”

“Yes, when your father drew up that succession plan five years ago, he had no idea Major Timber would be in such a crisis. I don’t think he intended to throw you into the middle of such a horrible situation. I think this is what he’d want.”

May let out a huge breath of relief.

“What do I need to do?”

Marbury opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick set of documents, “I’ve drawn up all the paperwork in advance. You sign these documents and I can be your power of attorney and act as your proxy. You can return to Seattle and go about your life until the sale is finalized. I can transfer all the proceeds to your account.”

“Won’t there be fees and taxes and things?” she asked. “Inheritance tax?”

“Certainly. The government will take its pound of flesh, but there’s a lot to be made. What remains will be enough to set you up for life, Ms. Major.”

May took the documents from Marbury and sat them on the table, “Wow. This is all happening fast. I must be at the funeral home in a half hour to tend to his funeral arrangements.”

“Of course,” Marbury said. “I know this is a difficult time. I’m here to make it less difficult. Let me take this burden off your shoulders, Ms. Major.”

Jorge Jessup had been reading his newspaper the whole time and stood to leave. May glanced in his direction. She smiled. He did not smile back though me made eye contact. He looked… troubled. He left.

May wanted nothing more than to sign the documents then and there and chase that gorgeous man into the parking lot and leave all her problems behind, but she fought the urge. She took in a deep breath.

“I’ll probably take you up on your offer. God knows I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll read this over and think about it tonight,” May said, standing.

Mr. Marbury looked somewhat surprised, “I don’t understand. Do you have questions?”

“No, no, you’ve done a great job explaining it all.”

“You know the sooner we do this…”

“I understand,” she interrupted. “I won’t make you wait long.”

Marbury stood and shook May’s hand, “I was more than just your father’s attorney, you know. I was his friend. I’m your friend, too.”

May smiled, “Thanks. I could use friends I can trust. I know nothing about my father’s business.”

May looked through the window into the parking lot. She noticed Mr. Jessup standing near her rental car. He didn’t seem to do anything. He just stood by her car for a moment, then walked away. She saw him hopping into an older car, from the 1970s perhaps. It was cherry red and looked as though it had been restored.

“Good day, Ms. Major,” Marbury said. “I’ll call you tomorrow if that’s all right.”

“It is,” she replied. “Good day and thank you for all your help.”

May and Mr. Marbury left Starbucks together. When they reached the parking lot, he turned to the left and she to the right. May got to her car and noticed a brown Starbucks napkin stuck under the driver’s side windshield wiper.  She pulled the wiper blade up and retrieved the napkin. There were words written on the napkin, a note made with a blue felt-tip marker. The note said simply, “That man is not your friend.”