Chapter Nine

Thursday night family dinner came quicker than divorce gossip makes the rounds in a country club. Now Max, Grandmother, and Father all sat at one end of Grandmother’s formal dining room table.

“Max, Mother’s been full of enthusiasm over a new employee you’ve hired. Did you steal her from your competition or find a treasure all on your own?”

Max placed his fork on his plate and picked up his wineglass. The thought of Aggie being referred to as a treasure amused him. “She’s more like a diamond in the rough.”

Father would stroke-out if he knew he and Aggie were pairing up as Bridge partners to help Ms. Hazel and Grandmother shore up their signals before the big tournament.

Disappointment filled Father’s eyes. “Do you think it’s wise hiring from the bottom of the pile instead of the top?” Condescension oozed from his tone like pus from an infected scab. “Surely, by now, you can afford to pay enough to attract the top-tier candidates. By your age, I had at least four well-paid employees on my payroll.”

If only Father knew just how far on the bottom Aggie’s work history placed her. “Actually, Grandmother connected us.”

“Mother, who exactly is this woman you’ve brought into my son’s life?” He tugged at his tie, not to loosen it, but to no doubt make sure the knot sat perfectly in the middle of the collar of his pale blue dress shirt. His way of pointing out to his son that he, too, should be wearing a tie and a jacket.

Grandmother dabbed her lips with her cloth napkin. Of course, she had changed for dinner. But, unlike Father, she didn’t do it for status reasons. Dressing for dinner was simply a tradition hardwired into her brain she never chose to ditch. Max, on the other hand, discarded it the moment he turned eighteen. Unless it was a special occasion, he showed up to dinner at Grandmother’s wearing slacks and a pullover shirt.

“If you must know, she’s Hazel’s granddaughter.”

Father slammed his palm on the table, causing the china to shake. “Of course that woman’s involved in this fiasco.”

Max and Grandmother both glanced at their watches. They had an ongoing bet on the number of minutes it would take before Father did his table slapping. The loser had to buy the other breakfast the next time they met. Tonight, he made it a full ten minutes. His record, fifteen.

Grandmother gave Max a slight nod of her head in acknowledgment he’d won tonight’s bet. He’d guessed nine minutes. She’d gone with four minutes. “What does ‘of course’ mean?”

“That woman has tried to weasel herself into this family ever since you’ve met.”

Max didn’t intervene—Grandmother could handle her own battles. Hell, she’s the one who taught him how to stand up to Father.

“And what does that mean?” Disapproval dripped like a slow-leak from her words. “Hazel has not once asked me for money.”

“Not yet. And why should she, if she has a bigger picture of setting her nobody granddaughter up with your somebody grandson?”

Like a piece of driftwood doused in kerosene and lit with a blowtorch on a windy day, Max’s anger ignited. “Aggie Johansson is a lot of things, but a nobody isn’t one of them. She’s funny. She’s energetic. She’s a force that will turn your world upside-down and make you glad for it. She’s not an invisible nobody.” He abhorred how the man judged the world by the size of their bank account or the status of their parents. “She’s efficient and enthusiastic. Bold and proficient. Those, Father, are not the fucking traits of a nobody. Make no mistake, Aggie Johansson is not a nobody. She’s very much a somebody.”

Father narrowed his eyes and peered closely at him. Like he saw or heard something Max hadn’t meant to disclose. “She has the same last name as her grandmother. That alone tells you she’s quite likely a bastard child.”

Max bolted to stand. He hadn’t given much thought to Aggie’s birth status. Probably because he didn’t give two cents if she carried her father’s last name or not. Not to mention there were a couple thousand holes in Father’s absurd assumption. And, besides, the marital status of her parents when she was born was irrelevant. “Bastard child” should have never crossed Father’s lips. “You’re so fucking unbelievably snobbish. Grandmother, please tell me you didn’t raise him with these views.”

“I blame them on his father.”

“May he rest in peace,” they said in unison.

“I’m a realist,” Father snapped. “If you want to get somewhere in this world, you surround yourself with people with shirttails you can ride. Not with people looking for handouts.”

“How can you accuse Aggie of anything?” Hell, she had singlehandedly painted his offices. A task she could have easily hired out. That wasn’t a sign of someone looking for a handout. “You’ve never even met her.”

“I—”

“Hush. Both of you.” Grandmother’s voice cut through the tension like a judge calling for order in the court. “I didn’t invite you to dinner just to hear you attack each other.”

“Sorry, Grandmother.” Max shot her an apologetic smile and sat down. If it wasn’t for her, he’d only see his father on the holidays, and maybe not then. She so longed for them to get along. For her sake, he’d strive to do better next time.

“Son,” Grandmother said to Father. “Aggie can’t help it if her parents never married. Max is right. She’s a lovely child. Smart as a whip. Went to college on a full scholarship. It’s sweet of Max to give her a chance.”

He hadn’t known Aggie went on a full scholarship. Interesting.

“At least, she’s a college graduate.” Father picked up his fork and cut a pea. “What was her major?” He directed the question at Max.

He quickly dismissed the idea of lying. He’d stopped caring about the man’s opinion the day his father sued for full custody of him and won. “Liberal arts.”

“Of course that’s what it would be.”

Max hated he’d had the same reaction when he found out Aggie’s major. He wanted to have nothing in common with Father. “There’s nothing wrong with a liberal arts degree. It makes her a well-rounded individual.”

“Just remember she’s an employee. Treadwells don’t fuck the help.”

He resisted an urge to slap his own hands on the table. Who in the hell did Father think he was fooling? According to Mother, he fucked the help every chance he got. Another reason to keep Aggie at arm’s length. He didn’t want to be like Father in any way. Other than successful. “Did I mention I have a meeting with Richard Harris on Monday?” Max hadn’t planned on telling his father about the meeting. It wasn’t like they were business confidants.

“You sound very proud of yourself for doing something most would consider boorish manners.” Father raised his nose in the air like a proper snob. “You do know stealing clients from your own family is deemed low-class?”

Max refused to feel guilty. “You said it’s every man for himself when I told you I was going into competition with your company.” The decision to be the asshole son happened after Father refused to hire him right out of college. He insisted Max learn the business elsewhere and then come to work for him when he had experience the company could benefit from. Father delighted in the fact he hired no one straight out of college. Not even his heir. “Some would say I’m a chip off the old block,” Max added.

Father’s nose came down, and he gave a calculated chuckle. “Our bet on if you will…or will not…net a million before you turn thirty-one must be eating at you if you’re willing to steal from my list of clients to achieve it.”

It had been a while since either of them mentioned the bet. “I’m not stealing anything. Mr. Harris came to me. He requested our first meeting.” Max refrained from ruining Grandmother’s lovely dinner by telling Father his oldest client had jumped ship long ago. Max and Richard’s upcoming meeting wasn’t their first.

“Just remember, if you don’t make your first million by your thirty-first birthday, we have a deal.”

“That deal is nonsense,” Grandmother said. “I demand both of you agree to drop it right this moment.”

“Mother, a bet’s a bet. Right, son?”

Max nodded. All the more reason he had to win the O’Reilly bid. “Don’t worry, Grandmother. According to my accountant, I’m almost there.” Not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth.

“For your sake, I hope you are,” Father said in a mock-fatherly tone. “Your birthday is in only a couple of months.”