Page 127 of When There Was You
My stomach rumbles in agreement. “Sounds delicious.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Jacqui,” Gus adds. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Now I’m intrigued.
We settle around the informal table with slices of thecrumb-topped cake and coffees before us. I groan at the airy first bite bursting with brown sugar and cinnamon. Jerri returns my satisfied smile with her own.
“You are the best cook,” I say.
Gus clears his throat, and my gaze swings his way. “I want to pursue the magazine, and if you’re willing, I’d sure appreciate your help.”
Butch’s head jerks in my periphery as my eyes stay fastened on his father. “How exciting. You figured out the logistics, printing, and all the nitty-gritty details?”
He shakes his head, looking a little sheepish. “That’s where you come in.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d like to hire you to nail down the specifics, outline the first year of issues, determine its overall viability. Since you already have a job, I figure we can iron out a consultant fee. A lot of this you can do on your own time, of course, and then we’ll get together in person as schedules allow.”
Butch scrubs his jaw. “Are you sure you want to take this on, Dad? It’s going to be time consuming. I know you’re less hands-on with the restorations now, but I don’t want you stretching yourself too thin. We’re swamped with business.”
“That’s why Jacqui’s helping to sketch out the details. I won’t make any final decisions until I see the numbers, time investment, and fine print, so to speak. Right now, it’s just a possibility, but a damn attractive one. And there’s clearly a hole in the market, that much I know. This will put Hamilton Restorations on the map.”
“We already are,” Butch answers, an edge to his voice.
Gus raps his knuckles on the table. “Let your old man tinker around with this idea. It’s something I dreamed of years ago, a dream that’s never faded. I only have more of a contribution to make in our industry by creating this magazine.”
I gently squeeze Butch’s forearm. “It would be a niche publication, and those can do very well because they’re so specialized.”
“Whose side are on you on, Sundance?”
“Team Hamilton all the way,” I answer with a grin.
Butch rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath.
“Gus, I’d be happy to consult on this, but you don’t need to pay me or anything.”
He snorts. “I’m paying for your expertise, and I won’t hear another word otherwise.”
We don’t hang around long once the conversation ends. Emmy opts to run home through the wooded path and Butch and I drive the car back. He’s turned broody and quiet; the energy between us tense.
“I can tell you’re unhappy about this,” I say, reaching behind his head and stroking down his neck. “Why though?”
He grunts. His jaw muscle pulses.
I knead this taut skin and watch his lids droop as he sinks into it. Butch loves being touched…even if he’s mad.
“Baby…” I prod.
His eyes flash my way, then back on the road. My hand falls to my lap.
“First, I meant what I said,” he explains. “We’re stretched thin at the business, and him gallivanting around with a time-consuming new venture is going to make everything harder. That negatively impacts you and me, and I think we can both agree the last thing we need is less time with one another, correct?”
“True.”
“Second, you getting involved in your spare time? Same impact.What fucking spare time?You think I want this taking away from the paltry minutes we patch together? He had no right to ask that of you without talking to me.”
“Whoa, now. You’re not my keeper.”
