bring.
Building the lodge would be trouble from top to bottom and beginning to end. Small-town Sweetwater would bore him to death. And then there was the proximity to Winter Kingfisher.
But he’d been on the outside with no way to even look in, and Caleb could acknowledge both Senior and Junior had good reason to demand payback.
“Fine. I’m the lucky guy, not a midlevel manager from Callaway Construction, who’ll take over.” Caleb propped his hands on his hips and frantically evaluated different objections. None of them would hold water. “What about my crew? Who is paying them while I’m doing this?”
“Bring them. Put your crew to work on the lodge. Callaway Construction will pick up the tab. Run both crews. Get this done. It’s your mama’s dream, too. For once, instead of wasting money on frivolity and fun little projects, help us. The timing is crucial. So is doing this the right way.” Senior’s lips disappeared in a tight line. “We need you.”
They needed him? Had he ever heard that before? Not that he could remember.
“Dinner’s ready. Tell me where we’re going to end up with this negotiation.” Caleb’s vaguely guilty conscience was only going to push him so far.
“You got a promotion, son.” His stepfather stood and hitched up his pants before settling his belt around his waist. “It’s time you joined Callaway Construction as more than a name on the financial report. This lodge? It’s your first project. You’ll come in on time and under budget. And you’re going to make sure those Kingfishers disappear. I don’t want to hear one more word out of Sweetwater. Winter Kingfisher...” He grimaced. “She knows how to keep the news stirred up, and thanks to her job at the reserve, she has connections with all the news stations around the state capitol. If she’s talking about the reserve lodge or Whit, you distract her.”
Caleb waited for more direction. There had to be more, didn’t there?
Senior waited for him to agree.
“I’m not sure how any mortal man is going to distract Winter Kingfisher if she doesn’t want to be distracted.” Caleb turned back to stare at Whit. “I mean, not even the golden boy here could hold on to her long enough to get her to say ‘I do.’” And didn’t it say a whole lot that no one in the room was plotting to win his ex-fiancée back to their side. Stupid mistake.
If Caleb had convinced Winter to marry him, she’d be priority number one in this recovery plan. He might be annoyed with her, but no one would doubt she’d been the brains in this political organization.
Standing his ground when Whit marched up to aggressively invade his space was easy. He had six inches and at least fifty pounds on Whit, not to mention right on his side. Caleb had his long-gone father’s build: big, solid, ready to work.
His brother, who’d always given off the polo athlete vibe—rich, lanky and well-dressed enough to hide narrow shoulders—should be bearing more of the responsibility here. Caleb couldn’t imagine Winter sitting silently by while the Callaways planned this lodge, but even if she had, Whit had still gone after her brother in a public way, with them both ending up on the front pages. Firing Ash Kingfisher, a man who’d never been anything but a solid champion of the reserve? Yeah, even Caleb knew there was no way Winter could have let their engagement stand after that.
And instead of plotting to win her back, the Callaways were trying to keep her quiet.
“She was always too much for you, wasn’t she, Whit?” Caleb asked softly, mad all over again at being the odd one out in this family. He took a childish pleasure in the way his brother stepped back. Whit wanted to fight. He’d never been able to best Caleb physically. Being his father’s favorite had always been enough to get by.
“All my boys in one room.” His mother was posing in the doorway again. “Dinner is ready. Come to the table.” She tried a beautiful smile, but steel laced her words when she added, “Now. No fighting.”
“Coming, Marjorie.” His stepfather pointed with his chin. “One more minute. That’s all we need.”
She surveyed all three of them before turning and slowly walking away, the clipped steps of her heels echoing on the expensive tile of the hallway.
“Follow your mother, Junior.” Caleb watched his stepfather and his brother argue without saying a word. Whit tucked his chin and marched after their mother. Every disagreement they had ended the same way—Whit followed orders.
Before he could tell his stepfather what he thought of the command performance, Senior held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. Your mother...” His stepfather stared down at the desk. “She needs us to get along right now.”
The grim determination on Senior’s face was nothing new, but his tone had changed. “What does that mean? Is something wrong?” Caleb crossed his arms tightly. What had he missed?
Watching Senior consider his words carefully was the scariest reaction Caleb might have expected. Whit Callaway, Sr. never hesitated. Worry punched a tiny hole in his resentment of the man.
“She’s been having some forgetfulness.” Senior rubbed his hand on his forehead, the fatigue on his face growing. “We’ve been to a couple of specialists, the best, but...” When their eyes met, Caleb understood. He’d heard so many stories of his grandmother and great-grandfather losing their fight with dementia.
“What’s the diagnosis?” Caleb asked.
“Early stages of Alzheimer’s.” Senior met his stare. “She’s taking everything she can to slow this down and give it everything she has, but I don’t want her upset. So you and I are going to get along.” Or else.
Caleb understood the unspoken words and supported them.
He also wondered what would have happened if he’d skipped dinner. Would anyone have told him what was going on with the most important person in his world? Anger burned bright and hot before he squashed it.
“Go to Sweetwater. Take over the project. Show us what you can do. Get the lodge built. Distract Winter Kingfisher until everyone that matters has forgotten her.” His stepfather clasped his hands together. “Easy enough.”
Put your life on hold until it’s done. His core crew would be working because he was definitely bringing them to Sweetwater, but finding new business for his own company would be next to impossible while he was stuck there.
Unless he pulled off a miracle, Mitch Yarborough and Rivercrest would move on without him.
“How long?” Caleb asked. He had four months to start the Yarborough project. This could still work. If he got the lodge off to a solid start, someone else could come in and finish.
“As long as it takes.” Senior met his stare directly. He would accept nothing other than a yes.
“And that gets me what?” Caleb drawled. That had always been his concern—whether what his family offered matched what they demanded. He could live without their money. Missing his mother was almost impossible to comprehend.
“An open door.” His stepfather’s lips were a tight line again. “Whit and I will be busy, running his campaign. Your mother needs you, needs all of us right now. Knoxville is an easy drive from Sweetwater. She’ll like that you’re closer
