"I have to work, but I could come by when I'm done," I said. "I'm usually back in the neighborhood by six so I can pick Riley up, and she's usually in bed by nine. Can I come see you in the evening?"
"How is she doing?" he asked. I could hear the softening of his voice as he asked about his niece. "Is she well?"
"She's good," I said. "Growing like a weed and getting to be more like Molly every . . . I need help, Patrick."
"I know," he said, and my fears began to abate. "Come see me this week, and we'll talk."
"Okay," I said as I sniffled and choked back everything else I wanted to say. "I'll call you when I'm on my way over."
"I'll be glad to see you, Leah," he said before the line went dead.
I sat staring at the phone for a long time, hoping that I hadn't hallucinated the call, and hoping that Patrick would actually help me make choices that would be best for Mama, Riley, and for me. Given our history, I wasn't counting on anything.
Not just yet.
Chapter Nine
Jack
When I came down for breakfast the next morning, Lincoln and my mother were sitting at the table with my father's attorney, Gordon Brasher.
"Jackson, it's good to see you, son," he said in deep booming voice as he flashed a smile as fake as the Rolex on his wrist.
"It's Jack," I said as I sat down and waited. A plate of eggs, toast, and bacon was soon placed in front of me, and I ate without saying another word.
"Ah, right. Jack it is, then," the lawyer said with a forced laugh. "We were just discussing the stipulations of your father's will, Jack."
"And this involves me how?" I asked with a mouth full of eggs. I was angry and resentful that I was being included in this ridiculous conversation.
"Haven't you told him?" Brasher asked, looking back and forth between my mother and my brother. "I thought he knew."
"No, we didn't say anything," Lincoln said coldly. "We thought this matter was better left to the professional."
"I see," Brasher said, nervously clearing his throat as he looked down at the papers in front of him. "Well, I guess there's no use in delaying the delivery then, is there?"
"Would someone just man up and tell me wh
at the hell is going on here?" I said impatiently. "I'm tired of this secretive game of ping pong knowledge sharing."
"Jack, your father left a will stipulating that you are to become the new CEO of Baby Steps," Brasher said.
"Well, then he was out of his mind because that's never going to happen," I said matter-of-factly. "Anything else?"
"Um, yes, actually there is," Brasher said nervously. "You don't have a choice in the matter."
"The hell I don't," I replied. "I'm independently wealthy and need nothing from any of you. I owe you nothing, and I'm not doing anything to keep that stupid company alive in the absence of my father."
"Jack, listen to the man," my mother urged as she looked helplessly at my brother.
"Jack, your father’s company is held by Bank of Manhattan, isn't it?" Brasher asked.
"Indeed, it is," I nodded as I stuffed a bite of jam-covered toast into my mouth and chewed.
"Well, the money your dad is paying you has been frozen until you take the CEO position at Baby Steps, and you either decide to run the company or hire someone to run it for you," Brasher said quickly. "You'll have no access to any of the money you invested in the business until you take care of your father's business."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I exploded.
"Jack . . ." my mother said disapprovingly.