“Ah.” Devon followed his lead, cutting her sirloin as she spoke. “A hedonist. So retirement will be one unending party.”
“Sounds good to me.” His brows rose. “What about you?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I just bought into my veterinary practice. I like to flatter myself into thinking they couldn’t get along without me.” Devon chewed and swallowed. “In my case, that’s wishful thinking. But in your case, it’s probably fact.” A weighted pause. “Especially now. I’m sure you’re on overload after what happened to your uncle.”
If the reference upset James, he didn’t show it.
He shrugged, continuing to eat. “The burden falls mostly on Philip Rhodes. Senior VP of sales,” he added by way of explanation. “I don’t know if you met him yesterday when you dropped by the farm. He’s my boss. After that, the buck stopped with Frederick. I’ve got to crank things up a notch—do a little extra hand-holding with our key suppliers and contacts. But Philip’s the one who’ll have to do the major juggling act until things settle down. Then again, he’s always had that role. Remember, I’m away a lot. He’s used to this.”
“It sounds as if your family’s lucky to have him on board.”
“I suppose we are.”
Devon picked up on the odd note in James’s voice. “Am I missing something? Is Mr. Rhodes a problem in some way?”
“Phil? The only problem is getting him to go home. He’s a die-hard workhorse. It’s just that I never viewed us as lucky to have him on board. I doubt he has, either. He’s been with us for so long, he’s like family.”
“In that case, maybe your grandfather will appoint him the new CEO.”
A short, derisive laugh. “Not that much like family. No, my grandfather would never let a non-Pierson head up the company. Technically, my father’s next in line for the CEO spot. I doubt he wants it. Not that it would matter if he did. My grandfather’s long since decreed that it’ll be Blake who takes over the throne. This will just accelerate his ascension.”
“Does that bother you? You’re older, right?”
“I’ve got two years on Blake. But, no, it doesn’t faze me in the least. I’ve got zero desire to run Grandfather’s empire. I’ve got a different legacy to fulfill.”
“Capturing the Olympic gold.”
“You got it.”
“I think it’s great that you and your father are both so accepting about Blake becoming Pierson & Company’s head honcho.” Devon pursed her lips thoughtfully. “But, as you said, you’re family. Philip Rhodes isn’t; not really. You’ll reap the long-term benefits of Blake’s leadership. He won’t. Is he really that magnanimous? I know I’d hate working my tail off if I knew there was a dead end at the finish line.”
James stopped chewing. “This is starting to feel like an interrogation.”
Mentally, Devon kicked herself. Too pushy. Too obvious. Time for damage control.
She launched into the speech she’d prepared if something like this happened.
“Sorry.” A rueful smile. “Force of habit. My dad’s a retired cop. I guess being nosy is in my blood.” She stared at the tablecloth. “And I admit there’s a part of me that is interrogating you. I want to know who killed your uncle. I want him behind bars. I miss my mother. I’m scared for her. I want this nightmare to be over. I want my mother home, safe and sound.”
Her ploy must have worked, because James covered her hand with his. “I understand. Everyone’s focusing on what a horrible time this is for my family. Well, it’s a pretty horrible one for yours, too. Your mother’s out there somewhere. You must be a mess.”
“I am.”
“What can I do to help?”
“You’re doing it now, just offering your support. And forgiving me for grilling you.”
“No forgiveness is necessary. And, for the record, if I had any idea who did this to Frederick, I’d offer the SOB up on a platter. Frederick and I had different styles—God knows, we didn’t always see eye to eye—but he was my uncle. I get sick when I think about how he died.”
Devon wasn’t letting that admission go without a try. “Different styles?” she repeated quizzically. “Why, was he closed-minded, or overly conventional?” She rushed on, determined to keep the harmonious moment from disintegrating back into wariness. “I’m not interrogating, not this time. My question is strictly personal. Your uncle was dating my mother—seriously enough for her to go away with him for a weekend. That’s not something she’d do lightly. I guess I need to feel as if I knew him.”
“I suppose I can understand that.” James didn’t release her hand. “Frederick was a workaholic. When I said we didn’t see eye to eye, it was because we handle things differently. I combine work and play. Frederick is—was—all about work. He’s as serious as a heart attack. Our goals are the same. I just enjoy the means as well as the end.”
“Meaning you wine and dine the players.”
A grin. “Smart girl. It’s a winning combination, at least for me. Sales is all about people. Win their hearts, and their wallets will follow.”
“People.” Devon’s lips curved. “Why do I get the distinct feeling that most of those people were women?”