It’s not that easy. While my father might’ve been a fucking asshole, the man was brilliant.
And he always played to win.
There’s more at stake than just his money. If any of his sons walk away, he destroys the livelihoods of thousands of people. William wasn’t only heartless but vindictive. I’m still wondering what it is that we did to him.
He had seven children. None of us asked to come into this world. We only wanted his attention, and we only got his rejection and now his punishment.
I tried to be heartless, to say fuck him and everyone else. My brother, Hayes, worked hard to convince me to stay. That guy cares too much. He spent weeks talking to each of us, trying to persuade us to take a leap of faith. So here I am moving to the middle of nowhere Oregon, in a town called Baker’s Creek where I have to live for the next eighteen months with my brothers so I can claim an inheritance I don’t want and save a town I don’t give a fuck about.
For years I lived by myself. Now, I share a house with my brothers, Beacon, Vance, Mills, his son Arden, Pierce, his wife Leyla, Hayes, and his fiancée Blaire. Daddy dearest stipulated that we should be there with our significant others too. Thank fuck I’m not emotionally attached, or this would be a circus.
While I’m at it, I have to save my father’s businesses and play nice with my brothers. We can barely stand each other.
I have no fucking clue how these eighteen months are going to play out. I tried everything within my power to make this go away. There’s nothing I can do. I already tried disputing the will, paying his lawyers to change it, and ignoring the situation and everyone who is involved with this mess.
Nothing worked.
One
Sophia
I busted my ass my entire school career, including graduate school, so I could be the delivery girl for fucking Henry Aldridge. I am two minutes from giving up everything and…well, I don’t even have a plan b.
What happened to chase your dreams and don’t stop believing?
When I finished high school, I swore that I’d find my passion. A career that wasn’t solely rooted in gaining money. One of my biggest goals was to create a path that would fuel my inspiration. Poor young me. I was naïve, filled with hopes and dreams, and wore a pair of rose-colored glasses.
Confession time. I studied hospitality and business because I wanted to earn money and travel around the world. By the time I was declaring my major, money had become important. I now work for the biggest hotel conglomerate in the world, but instead of traveling somewhere in the Caribbean, Europe, or even Fiji to ensure our employees follow the operational standards that corporate sets, I run errands for my boss and now his brothers.
For the past four weeks, I’ve commuted from Manhattan to Baker’s Creek. Some weekends I stop in Atlanta, Denver, San Francisco, Seattle, or Vancouver before I arrive in Portland. Because everyone forgot to bring something important from home.
My friends and family wonder why I haven’t quit my job. It’s not as simple as handing in my letter of resignation. I can’t afford to just quit. I have too many expenses. My debt is just as big as the national deficit.
Have I tried to leave Merkle? Several times.
I find jobs that are a shoo-in for me. Places where I can make a difference. This is how it usually goes—I pass the first two phone interviews. The final interview is either a videoconference or in person. Whoever interviews me almost hires me on the spot. They promise to call me soon. A few days later, they either call to apologize that they filled the position internally, or they just never call back.
If by some miracle they grant me the position, Henry gives me a bonus to persuade me from quitting and then reminds me that no one will pay me as well as he does. My checking account agrees with him. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be declaring bankruptcy and selling my organs to get by.
Just because he pays what I need and then some, it doesn’t mean I don’t loathe the man. He drives me crazy. No one should be surprised that while I’m on the phone with him, I’m doodling stick men and stabbing them with my pen a million times while he says...
“Did you get everything?”
I mumble a yes. How could I not when it’s the third time he repeated the list of things I need to pack from his brownstone. Now, here’s something that drives me insane. Couldn’t we hire a company that could pack and move everything he needs?
Nope. Every week, he has something new to request.
“Anything else?”
“That’s all, unless… No, that’s all for now,” he responds, and if it wasn’t so early in the morning, I’d be either snapping at him or giving him one of my favorite sarcastic remarks. “Will you be able to arrive at the airport on time?”
“It’s six in the morning,” I answer, biting the frustration. “I’m pretty sure I can manage to get this done in less than four hours.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in Portland when you land,” he concludes.
“You?” Unfortunately, the word comes out like a desperate shriek.
“I think I’ve proven myself to be an excellent pilot, Ms. Aragon.” His voice comes out forcefully—even angry.
“What happened to not being able to leave Baker’s Creek?” I ask, hoping that the question will calm him down. Henry's ego is fragile when it comes to his piloting skills, even when he denies it. “You do remember why you changed your residence, right?”
Among all the crazy stipulations he and his brothers need to comply with to receive their inheritance, they have to live in Baker’s Creek for eighteen months, in the Aldridge Mansion. They can’t leave the town—not even to Portland. So why is he saying, I’ll see you when you land?
“We were able to tweak a few of the stipulations on the will,” he states. “Pierce has been working hard to make this more efficient for all of us.”
“Well, great…” for you.
What’s great is the part where he can leave the town. Not the fact that he’ll be picking me up. He’s pretty good at multitasking, and I’m sure he’ll want me to work during the thirty-minute flight to the house.
“It’s a start,” he grumbles. “If you need me, please call. I’ll see you when you arrive.”
He hangs up, and I am tempted to text Blaire or Leyla, my best friends who are also stuck in Baker’s Creek, to find out more about the amendments. But I stop myself. I doubt either one will appreciate me calling them at almost three o’clock in the morning. Maybe I’ll text them in a couple of hours. One of them has to be available for a chat. This might be the last time I have to go to Baker’s Creek.
The last ten years of my life have been dreadful, but things are turning around for me. Free time and seventeen months in charge of Merkel Hotels & Spas. Of course, Henry is going to call me every three fucking minutes, but who cares about him? After almost three years of working for him, I can tune him out.
Just imagine, in less than two years I can apply for a new job with my new resumé where I will type in bold letters, maybe even in caps: INTERIM CEO of Merkel Hotels.
But before I can celebrate my new and improved life, I have to tie up all the loose ends this weekend. Instead of going to my parents’ house, I text my brother, Marco, and ask him to cover for me. Of course, he is willing to do it in exchange for using my place. I should say no because he’s either bringing the flavor of the month or having a party.