After the Party

“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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