Kelly Jamieson - Crazy Ever After

She turned to Samara. “What’s wrong with him? Oh, Samara. What did you say?”

Samara looked away from her mother’s chiding gaze. “We were talking about the company.”

Mom sat down at the table and reached for the coffee thermos. “I see.” She poured coffee into a cup. “You know, he is your boss.”

Samara blinked at her mother. “Well, yes, technically he is. But...”

Mom raised calm emerald eyes. “But what? What else is there but ‘technically’? You’ve always made a point of not wanting to use your family connection to your advantage in the company.”

Samara leaned back into her chair and blinked. “Travis can’t fire me.”

Her mom just tipped her head and sipped her coffee. “Well. He probably wouldn’t.”

Holy crap! What the...Samara’s mind whirled. He had no power over her. Not that way anyway. There was no way he could... Hell. She had to acknowledge the reality of their corporate structure. But none of the other executives would support him if he fired her, because of who she was. Except it was true—she had always made a point of not wanting any special treatment at Cedar Mill Coffee because of who she was.

She sat back in her chair. She was doing a good job. Better than good. She’d increased sales in every store she’d managed, and then for the entire division she supervised. She was a valuable asset to the company. He couldn’t fire her without risking a wrongful dismissal suit.

She’d sue his ass and take great pleasure from it.

Damn, he had a nice ass.

She slumped lower in the chair and took a breath. “He doesn’t want me to go to the office with him,” she told her mother, more calmly. “He doesn’t think I would be able to help.”

“Oh. And you think you would.”

“Yes. I think I could. I know more about the business than most people. Dad taught me a lot. I’ve taught myself a lot. I know Dad wanted me to work my way up. And maybe...” She hesitated. This was a bit of a leap, considering they’d never talked about that far into the future. “I think he wanted me to take over the company from him some day. When he retired.”

Mom smiled. “I doubt he’d ever have retired, but I have no doubt he wanted you involved in the company. Along with Travis.”

Samara’s eyes widened. “With Travis?” She shook her head. “But Dad was the CEO.” Travis’s protests about equal partnership echoed in her ears.

Mom shook her head. “You do know a lot about the business, Sam, but there’s still a lot to learn. Your father and Travis hold equal shares in the company, forty per cent each.”

Oh. She’d never thought about the actual shares in the company. “Who has the rest?”

Her mother smiled again. “I do.”

Samara’s eyes shot open. “You do?”

“Well, ten percent. The other ten percent is divided among some of the other executives. Alex has some. So does Hank.”

Samara slumped into her seat again. Hell. How could she not have known they were equal partners? She hated feeling so stupid. Heat burned inside her, and she stared glumly at the table.

As a kid, she’d known her father and Travis had worked together closely. Travis had started working as a barista for Cedar Mill in high school and then full time after he’d dropped out of college. She’d made that unfair crack about his lack of education, implying he wasn’t smart enough for college, but that was far from the case. He was so smart. She didn’t know exactly why he’d quit college, but she’d always suspected it was because of financial issues. She knew he had no family and had grown up with very little but didn’t know much more than that.

“Your father and Travis were partners as well as friends,” her mother reminded her.

Samara sat up straight, folded her arms across her chest, and regarded her mother. Yeah, Travis had often joined them in their home for family dinners and holidays since he had no family in Portland. Her father had been like a mentor to Travis, teaching him the business, guiding him, treating him almost like a son.

“But Dad was the one who started the company.”

“Yes. But when they became partners, Parker needed Travis as much as Travis needed him. Travis had already made quite a name for himself in the business.” When Travis had worked as a barista, Cedar Mill had consisted of a few coffee shops in Portland. He’d started winning awards in barista competitions and had acquired a reputation as someone who really knew coffee, and it was largely due to him that Cedar Mill had increased sales substantially, mostly through word of mouth. He’d worked his way up to head barista then had taken over training all the new hires. After a few years, he’d quit his job at Cedar Mill to start his own business, importing and roasting coffee beans, finding new kinds of beans, selling them to some of the coffee shops in Portland, including Cedar Mill.

“When Parker proposed they join forces, it was as equal partners,” Mom continued.

Dad had been interested in moving to selling only fair trade coffees. Although other coffee shops at that time offered some choices of fair trade coffees, he was passionate about helping coffee growers and convinced he could expand and make a profit selling only coffees that were fairly traded. He’d also seen a future for organic coffees, although demand for those was very low at that time, and Travis had already built a strong business importing Fair Trade coffees.

Although Travis was twenty years younger, the two men had shared a similar passion for coffee and vision for expanding the company, particularly for increasing the demand for fair trade coffees by partnering with other businesses such as supermarkets, book stores, and airlines.

As Samara’s career at Cedar Mill grew into management roles, she was aware that Travis was highly powerful in the company, but still, since her father carried the title of CEO, she’d always assumed he was the leader. She nibbled her bottom lip.

“Anyway, you can’t go to the office,” her mother was saying. Samara focused on her. “We’re going to the funeral home today.”

Her stomach clenched at the reminder of that. She did not want to plan this funeral. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help. It was more of a feeling that planning the funeral meant it was really true―Dad was dead. It just seemed so...final. She looked at her mom gazing anxiously at her, and sighed inwardly. She had to help her. It couldn’t be that complicated, but she couldn’t leave her mother to deal with it on her own.

A few hours later, Samara’s head was spinning. There were so many decisions to make that she’d never anticipated. Music, flowers, prayers, pallbearers, obituary... Good lord, how were they supposed to write her father’s obituary? She felt like she was operating in a dazed fog, and yet, her mother seemed incapable of making decisions, so she had to choose all these things. What kind of flowers would her father have wanted? She had no clue.

Samara was usually completely confident in her decision making, taking charge of stores, and now even an entire division, and running them effectively, but when it came to these decisions, she felt lost and uncertain. The grief was bad enough, never mind having to deal with all this. Perhaps that was the reason funerals existed—to keep grieving family members so busy they didn’t have time to think about their loss.

Her friend Gia was very understanding. It still seemed funny that she’d chosen this occupation. Gia’d been a cheerleader in high school, with shiny blonde curls and a big smile, bouncing around with pompoms. Now she wore a tailored gray suit and her hair pulled back in a neat bun. Her smile had become more subdued but she had a gentle, sympathetic manner that made the ordeal much easier. She was very flexible, willing to go along with whatever they wanted.