“I think I became obsessed with preventing that. I thought being in charge meant nobody could blame me.”
“And instead?”
“I became somebody people were afraid to disagree with.”
Her voice remained steady.
“I don’t like that person.”
“Then don’t keep being her.”
She looked at me.
“That simple?”
“No.”
I smiled slightly.
“But the sentence is simple.”
She accepted that.
The following Monday, Bellweather Hospitality released Derek’s final contract payment.
He repaid the full amount removed from my parents’ account.
Then he did something none of us expected.
He brought the records to Dad himself.
Every receipt.
Every invoice.
Every transfer.
He laid them on the kitchen table.
“I want you to see where everything went.”
Dad pushed the papers back.
“I trust the accounting.”
Derek did not take them.
“That isn’t the point.”
Dad looked at him.
Derek swallowed.
“The point is I need to become someone who doesn’t require blind trust.”
Dad studied his oldest son for a long time.
Then he pulled out a chair.
“All right.”
They reviewed every page together.
I watched from the doorway.
I did not join them.
Some repairs belonged to two people.
Three weeks after I had arrived, the family property trust held its first actual meeting.
We gathered at the kitchen table.
Inez brought revised documents.
Dad placed Granddad’s letter in the middle.
“The land is worth something,” she explained. “Not enough to make anyone rich. Enough to create options.”
Sell it.
Lease it.
Develop part of it.
Preserve it.
Or use it.
Dad looked at Derek.
“Do you want the workshop?”
Derek hesitated.
“Yes.”
Then Dad looked at me.
“And you?”
I laughed.
