When the front door shuts behind them, Palmer whips around to me. “They can’t be serious. They really want us to clean out our rooms? Like . . . pack them up?”
“That’s exactly what they asked,” Cooper says, joining us at the table with a plate of food.
“Was this your idea too?” Palmer asks Cooper, already bringing the wrong energy to the meeting.
Cooper opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off before things can get too heated. “Hey, we’re here to talk about the party. Are you both ready to discuss? Anyone want to lead the discussion?” There, not dictating, keeping it open to them.
“Oh, so you don’t want to talk about the rebranding?” Palmer asks.
Jesus Christ.
I move my hand over my mouth and take a deep breath. “Palmer, I told you—”
“He told you about that?” Cooper asks. “That’s shocking.”
Hell . . .
Deep breaths, man. Open ears. Let them talk. Let them work through things.
“I still can’t believe you knew and I didn’t,” Palmer says. “And why is it shocking that Ford would tell me?”
“Maybe because you don’t care about the store.” Cooper pops a blueberry in his mouth. “And Dad told me about the rebranding. Since I believed my opinion was valued in this family, I asked to have a hand in it, maybe bring some of my own ideas, but Ford said no.” Cooper bites down on a piece of bacon, and both my siblings stare at me, fury in their eyes.
This is not how I envisioned this breakfast going.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
COOPER
From the look in Ford’s eyes, he was not expecting me to call him out like that.
But what I’ve learned from my therapy sessions is that staying quiet is only causing me unnecessary stress that I don’t need to carry around.
Granted, Dr. Jefferson probably wouldn’t say my passive-aggressive comment was the way to go, but hey, baby steps, right?
“Wait . . . what?” Palmer asks, trying to wrap her head around what I said. “You wanted to be a part of the company decisions? Since when?”
“Since I thought I would try something new. Since I fucking hate my job. Since I fall asleep at my desk every day, wondering if I should be doing something better with my life. And when I finally nutted up and decided to do something about it, Ford rejected me.”
Ford takes a deep breath. Is he . . . is he counting to ten?
What the hell is that about?
“I didn’t reject you,” Ford says, his voice calm. “I . . .” He pauses and takes a deep breath again. Dude is trying to find his zen. I shouldn’t laugh about it, but it’s semicomical seeing him try to keep his cool. “We are getting off topic. I would love to discuss your thoughts on the party and where we stand.” He picks up a pen and paper from the table. With a smile, he asks, “Cooper, what have you done so far?”
“Why did you reject Cooper, Ford?” Palmer asks, arms folded across her chest.
Ford lets out another pent-up breath as his palms fall flat on the table.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I snap. “He needs control over everything.”
“That’s not true,” Ford says, his restraint slipping as his neck veins start to show. “I don’t need control over everything, but I do need us to stay on topic, which is the party. So, Cooper, what have you done?”
Did he not just hear himself take control? Is he that obtuse?
“Just like you don’t need control over this meeting?” I ask.
“Oooh, good one,” Palmer says, giving me a fist bump. Ford starts to rub his temples just as Palmer asks, “Seriously, Ford, why are you trying to cut us out?”
“I’m not trying to cut you out.” He draws mindless circles on the piece of paper, but the grip on his pen belies his calm as his knuckles whiten out.
“We might not be invested in the company like you, but we still own shares. We should have some say.”
“You do get a say,” he says, eyes flashing with annoyance.
“And when would we get a say?” Palmer asks. “Because as far as I’m concerned, we grew up in this store as well; we spent hours upon hours helping it grow. We were part of the family photo shoots showing off the gear, we helped with social media, we went to investor meetings with Dad, promoting the family aspect of the store. You might be the CEO, but we are very much invested too.”
“I know,” Ford says through gritted teeth.
“Do you? Because it seems like you’ve forgotten that,” Palmer continues. “You told me not to worry about the mock-ups.”