“You going to be okay?” Hank asked, concern in his voice.
He looked at his old friend. “I think I am.”
“Ashley is anxious to talk to you.”
He hesitated, then said, “I’ll probably wait until tomorrow. I can only handle so much excitement in one day.”
“The question is, will she wait. How about some unsolicited advice from a battle-scarred old friend? Go easy. Be sure.”
“Seems that was the mistake I made once-upon-a-time ago.”
“Probably so. But you actually have the luxury of time here. Use it wisely.”
It was good advice. “I’ve missed you telling me what to do all the time.”
“As if you ever listened.”
“You were right about Paula,” he said.
“That’s one I wish I’d been wrong about.”
Hank had told him early on that she seemed unstable. Her grandmother had committed suicide and her father tried once when she was a little girl. He hadn’t listened, thinking she was different. He’d been so wrong. But he knew why Hank had really come, so he got to the point. “You goin’ to cut me some slack here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. Southern Republic signs my paycheck now. I want to do a good job for them.”
“And I want you to do a good job. But what’s wrong with helping an old friend out a little?”
“Don’t you think it’d be kind of dumb for me to funnel you information? The company’s not stupid. They know we were once a team. Hell, it’s probably the reason they hired me. To stop us from reteaming. Besides, I won’t have anything to do with contract negotiations. They’ll have me buried up to my ears in workers’ comp cases.”
Which had been made clear at his interview for the job.
Hank shook his head. “I thought I taught you how to hedge a hell of a lot better than that.”
Maybe he had. Hank taught him a lot through the years. Especially about loyalty and friendship. To him the man was a brother, father, and friend—all combined into a vociferous personality that many found offensive. But not him. He’d learned that there was a surprising degree of empathy and affection hidden deep inside that gruff exterior. Nothing overt ever. Just a look. A gesture. Unspoken, but understood. One that said,I’m there if you need me.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Brent said. “Are you going to give me a break?”
Hank turned to leave. “We’ll talk again. Soon.”
But he did want to know, “How is Ashley?”
“Screwed up,” Hank said, as he walked away.
9:40A.M.
CHRIS STARED ACROSS THE TABLE AND ANSWEREDHUGHES’question. “Our financial situation is okay. But not good.” He stared hard at Hamilton Lee. “It could be better.”
“Meaning what?” Lee asked, taking the bait.
“Meaning if you spent as much time in the office as you do on the golf course, we’d all be a lot better off.”
“I resent that.”
“I don’t give a damn what you resent. This is a business, Hamilton, not a hobby. This industry is contracting inward by the day. Everybody is going paperless. Tariff barriers and protectionist subsidies offered to our foreign competitors have made for a totally uneven playing field. Export duties and taxes on wood exports are increasing annually. None of this is good.”
“Aren’t we compensating with making packaging and sanitary materials?” Hughes asked.
