she sniffed, annoyed at him as usual “—you don’t seem to be doing a very good job yourself.”
“Thank you for sharing your opinion,” Elias said politely.
He never bluntly told his mother that he was not ever getting married again, because she would have argued with him, and as far as Elias was concerned, the matter wasn’t up for debate. He had been divorced for seven years, had purposely made no effort at all to find anyone to replace the duplicitous, avaricious Millicent, and had no intention of doing so.
Surely after seven years his mother should have noticed that.
“Don’t go all stuffy on me, Elias Antonides. I’ve got your best interests at heart. You should be grateful.”
As that didn’t call for an answer, Elias didn’t supply one. “I have to go, Mom, I have work to do.”
“You always have work to do.”
“Someone has to.”
There was a dead silence on the other end of the line. She couldn’t deny it, but she wouldn’t agree, either. At last Helena said firmly, “Just be here Sunday. I’ll provide the girl.” She was the one who hung up on him.
His sister, Martha, on line four, was brimming with ideas for her painting. Martha always had ideas—and rarely had the means to see them through.
“If you want me to do a good job on those murals,” she told him, “I really should go back to Greece.”
“What for?”
“Inspiration,” she said cheerfully.
“A vacation, you mean.” Elias knew his sister. Martha was a good artist. He wouldn’t have asked her to cover the wall of the foyer of his building, not to mention one in his office and the other in his bedroom if she were a hack. But he didn’t feel like subsidizing her summer holidays, either. “Forget it. I’ll send you some photos. You can work from them.”
Martha sighed. “You’re such a killjoy, Elias.”
“Everyone knows that,” he agreed. “Deal with it.”
On line five Martha’s twin, Lukas, didn’t want to deal with it. “What’s wrong with going to New Zealand?” Lukas wanted to know.
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Elias said with more patience than he felt. “But I thought you were going to Greece?”
“I did. I’m in Greece,” Lukas informed him. “But it’s boring here. There’s nothing to do. I met some guys at the taverna last night. They’re heading to New Zealand. I thought I’d go, too. So do you know someone there—in Auckland, say—who might want to hire me for a while?”
“To do what?” It was a fair question. Lukas had graduated from college with a major in ancient languages. None of them was Maori.
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever,” Lukas said vaguely. “Or I could go to Australia. Maybe go walkabout?”
Which seemed to be pretty much what he was already doing, Elias thought, save for the fact that he wasn’t confining his wandering to Australia as their brother Peter had.
“You could come home and go to work for me,” Elias suggested not for the first time.
“No way,” Lukas said not for the first time, either. “I’ll give you a call when I get to Auckland to see if you have any ideas.”
Ted Corbett—on line one—the only legitimate caller as far as Elias was concerned, was fortunately still there.
“So, what do you think? Ready to take us over?” That was why he was still there. Corbett was eager to sell his marine outfitters business and just as eager for Elias to be the one to buy it.
“We’re thinking about it,” Elias said. “No decision yet. Paul has been doing some research, running the numbers.”
His projects manager loved ferreting out all the details that went into these decisions. Elias, who didn’t, left Paul to it. But ultimately Elias was going to have to make the final decision. All the decisions, in the end, were his.
“I want to come out and see the operation in person,” he said.
“Of course,” Corbett agreed. “Whenever you want.” He chattered on about the selling points, and Elias listened.
He deliberately took his time with Corbett, eyeing the red light on line six all the while. It stayed bright red. When he finally finished with Corbett it was still blinking. Probably the old man just walked off and left his phone on. That would be just like him. But Elias punched the button anyway.
“My, you’re a busy fellow,” Aeolus boomed in his ear.
Elias shut his eyes and mustered his patience. His father must have been doing the crossword to wait so long. “Actually, yes. I’ve been on the phone way too long, and now I’m late for a meeting. What’s up?”
“Me, actually. Came into the city to see a friend. Thought I’d stop by. Got something to discuss with you.”
The last thing Elias needed today was his father making a personal appearance. “I’m coming out on the weekend,” Elias said, hoping to forestall the visit. “We can talk then.”
But Aeolus was otherwise inclined. “This won’t take long. See you in a bit.” And the phone clicked in Elias’s ear.
Damn it! How typical of his father. It didn’t matter how busy you were, if he wanted your attention, Aeolus found a way to get it. Elias banged the phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache gathering force back behind his eyes.
By the time his beaming father breezed straight past Rosie and into Elias’s office an hour later, Elias’s headache was raging full-bore.
“Guess what I did!” Aeolus kicked the door shut and did one of the little soft-shuffle steps that invariably followed his sinking a particularly tricky putt.
“Hit a hole in one?” Elias guessed. He stood up so he could meet his father head-on.
At the golf reference, Aeolus’s smile grew almost wistful. “I wish,” he murmured. He sighed, then brightened. “But, metaphorically speaking, I guess you could say that.”
Metaphorically speaking? Since when did Aeolus Antonides speak in metaphors? Elias raised his eyebrows and waited politely for his father’s news.
Aeolus rubbed his hands together and beamed. “I found us a business partner!”
“What!” Elias stared at his father, appalled. “What the hell do you mean, business partner? We don’t need a business partner!”
“You said we needed ready cash.”
Oh, hell. He had been listening. “I never said anything about a business partner! The business is doing fine!”
“Of course it is,” Aeolus nodded. “Couldn’t get a partner if it weren’t. No rats want to board sinking
