the sound of that, even if getting his uncle to see a doctor would be near impossible. It had been decades since Elliot last saw a physician. He’d refused to go for even an annual checkup since Chase’s father, Elliot’s twin brother, had died of a rare blood disorder. He said he didn’t want to know if he, too, had the hereditary condition. Chase and Owen had both been checked, and, thankfully, were unaffected.
“In the meantime, we still have a problem. The board, or rather, several of its members have raised concerns about his fitness to continue leading the company.”
“I would imagine the recent slump in sales isn’t helping.”
At that, Chase’s gaze snapped to hers. Suspicion coiled like a snake about to strike. “What do you know about Trumbull’s sales?”
“It’s a publicly traded company. For a while, shares held steady even when profits began to decline, but now they are slipping, with some investors anxious about the release of this quarter’s figures.”
“You follow the stock market?”
She answered his question with one of her own. “Does that surprise you?”
“N-no.”
The sputtered denial had barely made it past his lips when Ella started to laugh.
“It’s all right. I know I don’t look like the average broker, and I’m hardly an expert on Wall Street.”
She was right on the first count. “But you obviously pay attention.”
“My dad was...interested in stocks. Besides, when Elliot called to ask if I would plan his wake, I did a little digging online so I would be prepared when I met him.”
“Ah.” It made sense. Still, Chase got the impression she had been about to say something else.
“An internet search turned up a story on Trumbull stocks.”
“Just one?” he asked dryly.
“Several, actually. This economy has hit a lot of businesses hard.”
She was being polite, Chase knew, since the articles she’d read probably mentioned how well Trumbull’s competitors were doing in comparison.
A familiar sense of frustration settled over him. “My uncle started his company after none of the big toymakers would even meet with him about his idea.”
“Randy the Robot.”
Chase nodded. Everyone had heard of the famous toy. A couple of generations earlier, practically every kid in the country had owned one.
“Elliot always has had an eye for what appeals to children. No one believed in him when he started out. The banks wouldn’t even give him a loan. He poured his blood, sweat and life savings into developing a prototype, finding a manufacturer and personally visiting stores, begging them to put it on their shelves. And now—” He broke off, surprised to have told her all of that. He was here to make sure what she already knew didn’t go any farther. Not supply her with additional information. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this.”
“Don’t apologize. I understand. He’s family and you love him. Naturally, you’re angry on his behalf. It hurts to watch someone we care about suffer.”
From her tone it was clear she was speaking from personal experience, which made it easier for Chase to be blunt. “My uncle is making a mistake with this party.”
“Wake, you mean.”
“Exactly my point.” Chase rubbed his forehead. “The message he’s sending to the board, to the shareholders and to his competitors is that he’s giving up without a fight.”
“And you think it will give credence to the rumors about his...erratic behavior and forgetfulness,” she finished diplomatically.
“It certainly won’t help.”
“From what I read, your uncle has a reputation for being eccentric. People have come to expect that.”
“But an Irish wake...” He sipped more wine. God, the stuff really was nasty.
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