Chapter Twenty-Nine
Landon
I pulled my car into the garage where James was waiting. He took one look at my face and pulled a bottle of rye whiskey and two lowball glasses from a cabinet. He set up two folding chairs under the sunny garage window and had my first drink poured before I got out of the car.
"I can't go back inside," I said.
James nodded and held out the glass. "Go ahead and take a minute. Or two."
He watched me knock back the drink, poured me another, and then got up to continue working. The cover was off my father's favorite Italian convertible, and James was checking the fluids.
The alcohol dimmed my thoughts and opened my mouth.
"Andrew thinks that just because I'm loaded I can marry whoever I want." I reached for the bottle and poured another two fingers of whiskey. "I could pull out my phone and dial any one of sixty numbers and find a fiancée within the hour."
"From my understanding, women like to be proposed to by sober individuals." James rolled up his sleeves and checked the oil.
I heard my words slur. "I could marry anyone I wanted to and then everything would be fine. Maybe I will, just to ruin Lyla's shitty plans."
James very carefully dried off the dipstick. His normally neutral face, the mark of an excellent staff member, creased into a frown. The effect was sobering, so I poured another two fingers from his bottle.
"We all know you’ll decide what’s best, sir," James said.
"Jesus, you've seen me in diapers. Can we just be James and Landon for a minute?" I waved the almost empty bottle at him. "This might be one of the last times we get to hang out before Lyla rips into the place. She's gonna leave her mark, that's for sure."
James slammed closed the hood of the convertible and made me jump. "We've had about all we can handle of this. The whole staff is ready to give her a piece of our mind. Today."
I swayed to my feet. "Come on, you can't totally blame her. I'm the one letting everyone down. Why can't I just pick up the phone and find some gold-digger of a wife? It would solve everything."
"Give me your phone." When I handed it over, he tossed it far across the garage.
I strained to hear where it fell and when I turned around, James was gone. I shuffled over to watch him mount the front steps then the floor tipped beneath me. I had just enough time to slip into the supple leather seats of the convertible before I passed out cold.
* * * * *
My head was still pounding on Monday morning, but I tightened the choking tie and slipped on my suit coat. The image in the mirror surprised me again and I stopped to scratch my chin. I had trimmed my lazy beard down to close-cropped stubble. I wouldn't go clean-shaven, but I was prepared to look my best.
Again, a deafening silence met me on the top of the grand staircase. The household staff had slipped into a furtive mourning and were most likely holed up in the staff room behind the kitchen. James never told me what he’d said to Lyla, but I hadn't seen her since I passed out in the garage.
My vision blurred when I reached the front door and for a moment I wondered if it was possible I was still drunk. Then I blinked away the stinging tears and stepped out to face my friends.
Each and every one of the people who made Golden Bluff both a showcase and a home stood on the front steps. My butler was rigid in his black suit and the housekeeper resplendent in her best dress and crisp white apron. Every staff member down to the assistant gardeners was in full uniform. They lined the front steps for a royal send-off.
I knew them each by name and made sure they heard me despite the choked sound of my voice. I shook every hand and saw too many tears until I reached James in the driveway.
"Why?" I asked him.
He broke protocol and gave me a loving smile. "Remember that everyone here wants what you want, sir. Good luck today."
Their hopeful faces stayed with me the whole drive up the coast. Not even the bright sparkle of the Pacific Ocean could distract me. Over and over again, I counted the days to my birthday. Less than three months to find each staff member the perfect position elsewhere. Three months to break up the only family I had left.
I pulled onto the steep streets that led to San Francisco's Financial District. From the top of the hill, I could see our main headquarters —an enormous, dominating building with my family name in story-high gold letters across the top. As I drove toward it, a helicopter skimmed the skyline and landed on top of the Michel Building.
"Thanks, Vinny. I shouldn't be long," I told the eager valet who sprang forward to open my car door. "I wish you could keep it running, but you know how the trustees like to talk."
The young valet snorted. "Yeah, to everyone but us. I mean, sorry, sir. Good luck, sir."
I clapped him on the shoulder and headed through the imposing glass doors. "Thompson, glad you've got the place under control," I called to the security guard. He gave me a nod and a quick salute.
It would have been easy to stall in the lobby and talk to the dozens of employees I recognized, but then I saw Owen. I tried to be polite as well as quick, but he caught me at the private elevator.
"Mr. Michel, Landon. Can I still call you Landon?" Owen gulped.
"Sorry, but I'm late for a very important meeting." I kept my eyes on the elevator doors.
"I told her," Owen blurted. "I had to tell Riley. I'm sorry, but she needed to know what she was doing. I didn't know it would get so screwed up."
"Did you do it so she'd get back together with you?" I asked.
Owen stumbled back. "No. God, no. Is that what it looks like? Shit. I just want what's best for Riley and telling her seemed like the right thing to do."
I softened and shook his hand. "You saved me the trouble of explaining it myself. Though I wish you had told me before I stuck my foot in my mouth so badly."
The private elevator doors slid open and I stepped inside. Owen risked the security guard's wrath by grabbing the door. "So you really were going to ask her to marry you just because you loved her?"
"I still love her," I said and let the doors close between us.
My heart hammered all the way to the top floor. I still loved Riley. I would always love Riley, and that was the one thought that was going to get me through this hell.
The elevator doors opened and an attendant held them for me. Two others pulled open the doors of the boardroom and I saw the wall of suits waiting for me.
I paused long enough to straighten my tie, then I marched into the boardroom and let the attendants shut the doors behind me. Two stiff rows of board members lined the long table, and Lyla stood at the head.
I shoved aside the empty chair waiting for me at the foot of the table and cleared my throat. "Please, don't get up. What I have to say won't take very much of your time—"
Lyla cut me off. "Now that we are all in attendance, today's meeting of the Board of Trustees can come to order."
"Today's meeting?" Something in the way she emphasized today’s caught me off-guard.
"Yes, Landon. The board had an emergency meeting yesterday, but we were unable to reach you. Now, there is no reason for you to address the board because everything has been decided." Lyla laced her fingers together over a leather portfolio of papers. "We’re here for the final formalities and the signing."
A blast of anger made my voice too loud. "You couldn't wait another day? Just one more day?"
"Landon, please, you need to listen—"
"No," I snapped. "You couldn't even give me one more day so that I could accept my defeat with a small amount of grace. You had to take that from me, too?"
She started speaking but I couldn’t hear her. The roaring in my ears and the ridiculously long conference table made it impossible to understand what she was saying.
The board member to my right cleared his throat. "Pull yourself together, Mr. Michel. Your father abhorred shows of emotion in the boardroom. This is business."
I took a deep breath. "This is my business, and I will not let my last act as head of this corporation be hijacked by my usurper."
"We tried to contact you, Landon," Lyla spoke up from the far head of the table.
"May I speak, Ms. Townsend?" The man that had addressed me struggled to his feet. Under the crown of white hair, I recognized one of my father's closest business associates, Mr. Tambor.
He cleared his throat and addressed me in front of the full Board of Trustees. "As you know, Landon, we have been watching you carefully the last few years. It is our business to oversee the direction and future of the Michel Fund, a charge we take very seriously."
Mr. Tambor gestured for me to sit, but I shook my head. "I'll stand before the execution squad, thank you very much."
His lips quirked, but he smothered the smile and continued. "You may be aware that the Board of Trustees retains the power to grant extensions, change, or overrule the contracts that structure our many companies, properties, and funds. This includes your personal family finances as well as the Michel trust fund."
I nodded and shot Lyla a look. Her face was a pale mask, but her eyes held mine for a moment before she lowered them.
"Ms. Townsend requested that we hold an emergency meeting yesterday to recommend—"
"Yes, I know. I know exactly what Ms. Townsend has recommended, and I'm here to sign the papers and be done with it."
Mr. Tambor raised an eyebrow. "Was that you accepting defeat with grace?"
"I wasn't given the chance, but I'm not here to cry over missed chances—"
"Mr. Michel." The old man's voice crackled with authority. "You were notified of yesterday's meeting but were unavailable. Perhaps as you continue to streamline our corporate protocols you will remember communication is a helpful tool." He held up a hand to stop my interruption. "As I was trying to say before, the Board of Trustees has taken Ms. Townsend's latest recommendation under advisement, and we have decided to fully revoke the requirement of marriage before the age of thirty-five. Your inheritance will come into full effect on your thirty-fifth birthday whether or not you are married."
All the air deserted my lungs and I sank into my chair. The wheels squeaked as I pulled myself to the table and tried to find my voice again.
Mr. Tambor tugged his suit coat into place, sat down, and patted my hand. "Ms. Townsend was very persuasive yesterday and all on your behalf. Though it is a personal note and outside our normal scope of business, I believe you should know that she impressed upon us that you may need a little more time to find the perfect match."
"I asked them to give you a two-year extension," Lyla said. The thread of hope in her voice was like a lifeline across the cold conference table.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Tambor said, "she pushed for two years, although we couldn't make heads or tails of that specific number. As a result, the Board of Trustees has decided to revoke the age requirement completely."
"Two years?" I asked Lyla.
Her smile, a ghost of what it had been when we were younger, was growing in strength as she stood up. "It is my firm belief that Landon has found an appropriate, perhaps perfect, match."
"Ms. Townsend, do I have to remind you this is a very busy group of people? We must keep these meetings strictly business in the future." Mr. Tambor stood up again, gave my shoulder a squeeze, and turned to go.
Following his lead, the other twenty trustees rose, but I called them to a stop. "No."
"Landon, what on earth are you doing?" Lyla asked.
"I'm putting a stop to this gesture. I appreciate it, Lyla, I really do, but you are much better suited and more deserving to inherit all of this."
The whole room stopped and stared at me.
Mr. Tambor chuckled. "Someone get this man another phone as soon as possible." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Son, you've missed the message completely. I called you yesterday afternoon to tell you how we approve."
"Approve of what?" It all felt like a dizzying dream.
"We approve of your plan to honor the past and simplify the future. That’s what is best for the Michel Fund, and we’re entrusting you to lead the way."
With that, Mr. Tambor would accept no more arguments. He strode out of the boardroom, already calling to his assistant for notes on his next meeting. The room emptied in a matter of minutes, despite those trustees who stopped to shake my hand and offer congratulations.
Soon it was just Lyla and me facing each other across the airplane landing strip of a conference table. I collapsed in my chair and stared at her. I couldn't think of what to say.
Lyla made the first move. She ran down the side of the table and crashed into the chair closest to me. "Oh, Landon, I'm so happy. Thank you! I thought for a moment you were going to turn it all down and then I'd be stuck."
"Stuck with a fortune at your fingertips plus a billion dollar company? Now you're starting to sound like me." I shook my head in disbelief, but I was smiling.
"Now I get a chance to live my life. I mean, I'll help you with the Michel Fund, but it won't be the only thing. We'll be a team. Please say we can be a team again because I need you." Lyla gripped my hand.
"Why do you need me?"
She laughed, a heartwarming sound that sent me years back. "Because I need you to help me live. Really live, just like you've always talked about."
"How about we start with lunch?" I asked.
She laughed and dragged me from my chair. She looped an arm through mine and led me through the boardroom doors.
There in the private hall stood Riley. She was a dark silhouette against the jaw-dropping San Francisco skyline, but I could see nothing else. When she turned and smiled at me, it was like the sun through a thick bank of fog.
"Did you say lunch? I know this great place up the coast called The Sand Dollar." Riley walked over and gave Lyla a hug. "Thanks for calling me back."
I looked at the two smiling women in shock. "And how are we going to get all the way to Michel's Beach in time for lunch?"
"Oh, I hitched a ride in your helicopter. You coming?" Riley laced her fingers through mine and pulled me toward the rooftop doors.
"Yes," I said. "I'd go anywhere in the world with you."
Riley smiled. "Then let's go home."