Page 60 of A Tempting Seduction
“So back to Jasper Creek?”
“By way of Memphis,” I told the man. After I was done with Les, I called Walker. I told him I could make the meeting with Renzo and Harvey tomorrow morning if he could prep me a half-hour ahead of time. I could hear the glee in my brother’s voice.
After I hung up, I threw my tools and overnight bag into the truck. Memphis was four and a half hours from Nashville. If I left now, I could be at Morrison Lumber by closing time.
The drive gave me plenty of time to think about what I wanted to say to Archie. His betrayal felt personal in a way that pure business disputes never did. We'd trusted each other since we were kids stealing apples from Mrs. Patterson's tree.
Morrison Lumber sat on twelve acres outside Memphis, its weathered buildings surrounded by stacks of lumber that reached toward the cloudy sky. Archie had inherited the business from his uncle, but he'd expanded it, adding specialty hardwoods that catered to custom furniture makers and high-end contractors and millwork companies like mine.
Archie's pickup truck was parked next to the main office, the same beat-up Ford he'd been driving since high school. I found him in the warehouse, clipboard in hand, talking to a forklift operator.
“Ford!” His face lit up with the kind of guilty pleasure people showed when they were caught doing something they shouldn't. “What brings you to Memphis?”
“Cut the trash, Archie. Where's my cherry lumber?”
His expression shifted, the false cheer evaporating. “Now, Ford, I can explain—”
“Explain what? How you've been jerking us around for three weeks? How you keep promising delivery dates you can't meet?”
Archie glanced around the warehouse nervously. “Let's take this to my office.”
His office was a cluttered mess of invoices, lumber catalogs, and empty coffee cups. Pictures of his wife and kids covered one wall, reminders of the family responsibilities that probably drove him to make desperate business decisions.
“Times are tough, Ford.” Archie settled behind his desk like it was a barrier between us. “Cherry prices have gone through the roof. I'm barely keeping this place afloat.”
“So, you sold our lumber to someone else.”
“I had to. They offered me forty percent over our contract price. Forty percent! That's the difference between making payroll and laying off three guys.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “We had a contract, Archie. A signed contract with delivery dates.”
“I know, I know. But I figured if I explained the situation, you'd understand. You always were reasonable, even back in Little League when I struck out with the bases loaded.”
“This isn't Little League. This is business. You dicked us around for three weeks, saying you would deliver, when you'd already sold the trash out from under us. Am I right?”
Archie's face flushed red. “Look, I've got more cherry coming in next week. I was going to backfill your order, honest.”
I squinted. “And what would you have done if someone else came along and offered you more for it?”
“I…”
“You weren’t even man enough to tell me the truth. Why the heck didn’t you tell me what was going on and ask me to pay the current market rate?”
“You would have paid it?” Archie looked incredulous.
“If you told me that you were having trouble making payroll, then yeah, I would have.”
“That’s great. So, the market rate for the wood that’s coming in next week is—”
“Harass that noise. If you think I’m going to buy trash from you ever again, you’re out of your mind.”
“But you just said…”
“I said if you had been a man and been straight with me, instead of being a weasel toe. You chose the weasel toe option. You forced me to scramble to find alternative suppliers. We're done, Archie. Larson Brothers won't be doing business with Morrison Lumber anymore.”
The color drained from his face. “Ford, wait. You guys are my number one customer. Twenty percent of my business comes from you and then there are the other contractors who follow your recommendations.”
“You should have considered that when you decided to harass us over for a couple thousand dollars.”
