Barbara Boswell - Who's The Boss?

“So you not only run BrenCo, you also mediate family feuds?”

“I’ve had far more success managing the company than I’ve had trying to keep peace among the Brennans. Reaching a consensus among that group is harder than getting a unanimous vote in the UN General Assembly.”

“I know that Uncle Artie and Aunt Bobbie’s divorce was very bitter,” Kylie murmured. “That’s really all I know about it.”

The Brennan extended family had played only a minor role in the lives of her very mobile, very nuclear family—which made it both strange and awkward that she was now involved via Uncle Gene’s will.

“Wish I could say the same,” growled Cade. “Well, let me bring you up to date. Artie and Bobbie have been divorced fifteen—or is it sixteen?—years but are still deeply entrenched in each other’s lives. They are one of those tiresome couples who are eternally obsessed with each other.”

“Obsessed with making each other miserable?”

Cade nodded. “They’re masters of the art. I suppose you could say that Brent’s problems are the result of his dysfunctional family but he’s no longer a troubled teen, he’s twenty-seven years old. I consider him to be fully responsible for his own actions.”

“I agree,” said Kylie.

He looked surprised. “I thought a bleeding heart type like you would drag out the crying towel and use Brent’s unhappy childhood and his battling parents to excuse him.”

“Maybe I would, if I were defending him in court. But since I’m not...” Kylie’s voice trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid. “I haven’t seen Brent in years. But I do have an indelible memory of him from when we were kids. He lured me into the attic of Uncle Gene’s house by telling me that our grandmother had a trunk filled with dolls there. When I looked into the trunk, he shoved me in and locked it. I don’t think he had any intention of ever letting me out.”

“Ah, Brennan family fun.” Cade smiled sardonically. “See what you missed by not growing up here in Port McClain with the rest of the tribe? How did you get out of the trunk, by the way?”

“Lucky for me, my brother noticed I wasn’t around and figured that Brent had something to do with it. Devlin persuaded Brent to admit it and lead him to me ”

“Dare I ask how Devlin persuaded Brent?”

“He, uh, punched Brent in the nose,” Kylie confessed sheepishly. “And broke it.”

“Ah, bullying. As I mentioned earlier, it works well with certain Brennans. And I like the irony of Devlin’s progression from breaking bones to setting bones as his life’s work. That little bit of family history does explain why both Artie and Bobbie refer to your brother as ‘that thug.’ It’s one of the few things they agree on.”

“My mom and dad refer to Brent as ‘that monster.’ After the trunk incident, whenever we came to visit in Port McClain our parents kept Dev and me away from Brent. And after Uncle Artie and Aunt Bobbie’s divorce, we didn’t see much of Brenda or Bridget, either.”

“What about your other cousins, Guy and Lauretta’s kids? Did you spend much time with them?”

“No. Todd and Polly were a lot younger than Dev and me. And Ian—”

“Was an obnoxious creep?” suggested Cade. “He still is. Surprisingly enough, Todd and Polly are okay. Even likable, a fact that continually takes me by surprise.”

“Maybe they were somehow switched at birth?” Kylie suggested drolly.

“Maybe they were.” Cade grinned, then grew serious once again. “Your cousin Todd is in his junior year at Ohio State, majoring in business and Polly will graduate from Port McClain High in June. She has a scholarship to OSU and wants to study engineering. Both kids want to work for BrenCo someday and I think they’ll be assets to the company. BrenCo should be here for them to return to, Kylie. It is Gene’s legacy to his family and to this town,” he added, willing her to meet his gaze.

Kylie averted her eyes from the pull of his. She’d been warned by her uncles that Cade would apply strong pressure to sway her to his point of view—which was to keep BrenCo a privately held company with him at the head. Asking her to consider the future of the younger Brennans seemed to be yet another strategy.

She couldn’t immediately choose sides, Kylie reminded herself. She had to be like a judge and listen to all the arguments, to weigh all the evidence and information before rendering a decision. Keep the company in its current state or sell it to one of the giant firms that would merge BrenCo into their conglomerate? Her uncles, aided by cousin Ian, had invited an industry agent to town to explain the advantages of a sale and merger. She had to hear him out. Her decision was too vital to be rushed.

“Tell me why Aunt Bobbie wants to buy Starr Lynn a six-hundred-fifty-dollar ice-skating costume,” she asked lightly, in a deliberate change of subject. “Plus tax.”

She could tell by Cade’s expression that he wasn’t pleased with her blatant stall. She watched him assessing her—perhaps debating what tactic to take with this latest backstabbing, bickering Brennan who’d been inflicted upon him? Bullying, maybe? Kylie braced herself, prepared to fight back.

Instead, Cade returned to the coffee table and this time drained his cup of the dark murky brew.

“Your cousin Brenda’s daughter Starr Lynn wants to be a figure skater. I guess you could say she already is one. She’s been taking ice-skating lessons since she was four. The kid is definitely talented. She’s won a number of novice competitions—that is the level just below the juniors which is just below the seniors—and she’s being considered for admission to one of the top programs in the country at the Winterhurst Ice Rink in Lakewood. Bobbie and Brenda see Olympic gold in her future, and given Starr Lynn’s talent and drive, it’s not a totally unwarranted dream.”

“You sound vaguely fond of Starr Lynn.” Kylie settled into the charcoal gray leather chair across from Cade’s, her thoughts centering on Starr Lynn Brennan, aged twelve.

She hadn’t seen Brenda’s child in years, though she remembered when Starr Lynn had been born. Vividly. Brenda, seventeen at the time, hadn’t been married and it had been something of a family scandal, even for the Wayne Brennans living on a naval base in Europe, far from Port McClain.

“Starr Lynn is amazing out there on the ice.” Cade’s voice tore Kylie from her reverie. “She works so hard, getting up at dawn to practice, going to school and then putting in more hours of practice. Then there’s her skating and dancing lessons and all the competitions. The kid is a real trouper,” he added gruffly.

“You are fond of her!” Kylie marveled. Her eyes narrowed a bit. “What about her mother? I haven’t seen much of Brenda in the past several years but she’s always been pretty...and sexy.”

She was horrified by the acerbic note that had slipped into her voice and hoped that Cade wouldn’t notice.

A vain hope. He smiled, a smug cat-who’d-chowed-down-the-canary grin. “Brenda is still pretty and still sexy in that flashy bad girl way of hers.” He leaned back in his chair and met Kylie’s eyes. “Every now and then, Brenda decides that I would be a good match for her. I have never agreed. You can believe it when I say that Brenda Brennan holds all the appeal of a rattlesnake for me. Make that a rattlesnake about to strike and me without an antivenom kit.”

“So that’s why you panicked when Aunt Bobbie suggested sending Brenda over to your place tonight?”

“I did not panic!”

“Yes, you did.” Kylie was aware that she was entirely too elated by his rejection of her cousin Brenda.

The feeling disconcerted her. How petty, how unlike her. She was not jealous of Brenda! Yet she couldn’t deny the relief—the thrill?—of listening to Cade compare her cousin to a rattlesnake. Did she possess some long dormant Brennan vs. Brennan tendencies, which suddenly had been activated?