Becoming Hank: A Trellis Family Novella (Building the Circle) Page 4

  He hesitated, wondering if he should kiss her.

  "I'm waiting for a good-night kiss." Her knowing grin spread wider as his cheeks turned red enough to notice by the light of the streetlamps.

  Tipping his head down to her, Trip's lips lightly brushed across hers as they chuckled together. The laughter died off when their mouths touched again, though the kiss ended quickly.

  "Good night, Hank," Darla muttered, pulling him down into another kiss, more serious this time.

  "Um."

  "You're terrible at this," she noted, "but the kiss was great."

  "I really am terrible at this," he agreed, face turning red again. On the breezy October night, he couldn't miss the faint scent of her hair. He tried to breathe deeply without her noticing.

  "I'm not inviting you upstairs," she mumbled, her shoulders tightening as she stared at his chest.

  "I know," he replied gently, trying to soothe her sudden tension as he tucked the hair behind her ear.

  She sighed. "Of course, you do. Shy and morose, but kind. And patient. I like this. I like you."

  He grinned, surprising her. "That's for the best if we're getting married. Six o'clock tomorrow, okay?"

  Her laughter still ringing through the air, Darla let the apartment building entrance slam closed behind her as she headed up to her roommate and her flowers.

  5

  Trip woke up smiling on Monday morning, his mind immediately jumping to dinner with Darla later that day. He skipped over thoughts of the workday ahead.

  "It has to be something good. Something fun," he said aloud, talking to himself.

  He hopped out of bed, headed for the bathroom, when the reality of his day smacked him across the face.

  "Oh, man. Canton fallout today."

  Trip sighed, thinking about how the Canton dinner ended on Saturday and what was likely ahead for his father and the brokerage.

  Turning the corner into his tiny kitchen, he muttered, "Coffee. Must have coffee."

  "You're going to take on Canton," J.R. boomed as Trip walked into the brokerage office thirty minutes later.

  Trip raised his eyebrows, surprised they were talking about this in the open, in front of the other employees.

  "You're going to take care of that. It's on you," J.R. continued.

  "I'm not sure what he wants, sir," Trip murmured, walking toward his father. "Maybe we can talk about this in your office?"

  "No. I'm done talking about it. Just take care of it. We can't lose that client, Trip. Get it together."

  "What's the cousin's—"

  "It's on your desk. I'm done with the whole thing. Just get it taken care of." J.R. turned and stomped away without another word.

  It could be worse, Trip acknowledged. At least I don't have to work with J.R. on it.

  He paused then, thinking back to Darla asking why he worked with his dad and dealt with his family.

  Sighing, he walked into his office, staring at the giant pile of file folders on his desk.

  "My life isn't great," he muttered to himself.

  When Tom knocked on his door jamb four hours later, Trip started, startled out of the mess of paperwork.

  "Lunch! Food! Tell me about the date."

  Trip looked around, confused.

  "Lunchtime!" Tom prompted again.

  "I can't eat," Trip murmured. "Come in, close the door behind you, and keep your voice down."

  "What's going on?" Tom asked, brow furrowed in concern.

  Tom stared at his best friend. "What are you going to do?"

  "You followed?" Trip asked, waving his hand over the four pieces of paper in front of Tom.

  "I did."

  "You know what it looks like?"

  Tom continued to stare. "I know what it is, Trip. This is my kind of law. What are you going to do?"

  "You think it's intentional? You think I'm right?"

  "You know you're right, and so do I. There's nothing conclusive yet. It's only a matter of time if you keep looking." Tom's face remained uncharacteristically serious.

  Trip blew out a gust of air, resting his head on his desk. "Why would he give this to me? Why would he hand it off to me if he knew it was embezzlement and not a mistake?"

  "This was all together in the folders?" Tom asked.

  Trip shook his head, forehead still on his desk. "I ran across two bits of it in another file a few weeks ago and circled back to it when I saw the Canton files this morning."

  "What are you going to do?" Tom asked again.

  "I don't know," Trip mumbled. "If it's what it looks like, he'll go to prison."

  "If it's what it looks like, he belongs in prison."

  "He's my dad, Tom."

  "You're going to ignore criminal fraud because J.R. signed off on it?" Tom's eyebrows hiked up his forehead. Trip could sense the expression without seeing it.

  He didn't bother responding.

  "As your friend and lawyer, I will tell you that doing nothing puts you in a bad situation as an accomplice. If you're not going to move forward with this, scatter the papers again and don't say another word to anyone. Does anyone in the office know you pulled the other files?"

  "No," Trip muttered.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, thinking separate thoughts.

  Trip banged his forehead gently on the desk, as if to break the trapped thoughts free. "What am I going to do?" he mumbled again.

  "Are you surprised?" Tom asked, tone heavy with sympathy.

  There was no response.

  "I'm not surprised," Tom answered his own question. "The only thing that surprises me is how sloppy this is. He signed off on all this and then dumped it in your lap. He obviously doesn't know you at all. There is no doubt in my mind what you're going to do."

  Scrubbing his hand across his face, Trip sat straight in his chair, a red line marked on his forehead from the time on his desk. "I have to talk to Edward Canton. And I have to do some more digging. It might not be what it looks like. It might be an honest error. It's nothing more than an error unless there's a pattern."

  "How long have you been at this?" Tom asked.

  "Since I got in this morning," Trip muttered, already knowing where Tom was headed.

  "Four hours of research uncovered this. What the hell are you going to find when you dig deeper?"

  "I wouldn't have found it as quickly if I didn't notice the oddities in the other files last week." The words sounded weak, even to Trip.

  "Maybe not as quickly," Tom allowed.

  They stared at each other in silence again.

  "Can I help?" Tom asked.

  "Not yet." Trip shook his head.

  "Trip—"

  "If it goes deeper. If it's a pattern," Trip interrupted. "we'll handle it together. But we don't know enough yet."

  "I'll pick you up a sandwich. Back in a few." Tom headed toward the door.

  "Tom?"

  "Yeah, man?" Tom's serious expression made him seem older, more world-weary.

  "I'm supposed to see Darla tonight. I don't have her number."

  It was Tom's turn to blow out a sigh. "You should do that. You need that. Looks like this has been going on for years. Another day isn't going to matter."

  "I don't think I'd be good company. And I don't know where to take her. I'm not fun."

  "Nope, you are not fun," Tom agreed, a short-lived grin flashing across his face. "But she is."

  "She's going to realize I'm boring and not want to see me anymore."

  Sighing again, Tom walked back toward the desk. "Trip, we've been best friends since kindergarten, so I can say this and only kinda be an asshole. It's time to get a life, man. Time to find some happiness. This job, your family, your sad-sack apartment... I can't remember the last time you were truly happy. You're not boring. You're lost, man."

  Trip dropped his eyes, silently agreeing.

  "I'll bring you a sandwich."

  Darla's voice snapped through the door. "You're late, Hank. Tell me why I should open th
is door."

  Trip exhaled, shoulders slumped. "I just came by to say I can't make dinner tonight," he called through the door.

  There was a weighty pause but no response. Trip turned to walk back down the apartment building hallway, head hanging. He knew this was the end of his time with Darla. Wrecked as he was, the loss was still surprisingly painful.

  "What's wrong?" Darla called to his back.

  He paused, turning back to her. "It's a work—"

  "Holy cow, Hank. You look terrible. Are you sick?"

  "No." He shook his head. "Nothing like that. Sorry. I just can't do this tonight. I'm not good company."

  Darla's eyes searched his face, looking for some hint of what had happened.

  "Good night, Darla." He turned back down the hallway.

  "I'm making macaroni and cheese. Come have mac 'n cheese, Hank."

  He answered without turning back to her. "Darla, no one calls me 'Hank.' No one. I'm usually Trip, sometimes Henry, but never 'Hank.' It's cute, but it's not me."

  "So that's a 'no' to the mac 'n cheese? It's the good stuff—the blue box."

  Trip huffed out a little laugh, shrugging as he turned back to her. Even in the dim hallway light, the red undertones shone in her dark hair. Chin uplifted, eyes clear, Darla patiently waited. He sighed to himself. Her beauty, her humor, her confidence... like a moth to a flame, he took an involuntary step back toward her. "I'm truly terrible company right now. Under the best of circumstances, I'm barely fun. This isn't going to work."

  Darla's lips turned down.

  More words dribbled out of his mouth without consulting his brain. "But I adore you." His cheeks flamed red.

  She raised her eyebrows. "Do you really want to be called Trip? Deep down, you like that name?"

  "I never really thought about it until I met you," he admitted.

  "Now?"

  He shrugged again.

  She sighed, considering her words before she took her turn shrugging. "Come on, Hank. Mac 'n cheese. You're not bad company; you're lost."

  The hairs on Trip's arms stood up as she echoed the earlier conversation with Tom. "Is that more of Tom's perspective from when he spilled the beans on me?" he asked. "He said the same thing to me today."

  "No, Tom didn't tell me that. You just seem lost. So, I'll provide directions. Mac 'n cheese this way." She pointed into the apartment.

  "We were supposed to go out tonight. I was seven minutes late. You started mac 'n cheese because I was seven minutes late?"

  Her eyebrows hiked up again, her tone serious. "Don't be late again. You get a pass this time, but I hate waiting. Unless there's some huge tragedy, there's no good excuse for being late. It makes me feel like I'm being stood up. I won't make you wait on me. Don't make me wait on you."

  "I think my dad is embezzling money from the firm. I've been staring at paperwork all day, trying to think of another reason for what I'm seeing," he blurted, once again surprised by the words as he spoke them. He hadn't intended on sharing his day with her.

  Darla's mouth dropped open in shock. They stood staring at each other for a moment before she walked down the hall to wrap him in a hug. Trip's grip tightened when she started to pull away.

  When he finally let go, she cleared her throat. "That's not good enough. You're using your free pass now," she said primly, turning back down the hallway, dragging him by the hand. "But you've earned your cheesy noodles."

  Trip followed for lack of a better option. He didn't like mac 'n cheese, but he'd eat it.

  "Say no when Sue asks to play board games. I could maybe go for Yahtzee or something, but no Monopoly or Risk. She's vicious."

  His eyebrows lifted. "I'm pretty sure I could take her in Monopoly. That's kind of my gig."

  Darla burst out in giggles, not trying to hide her mirth. "Oh, please."

  "No, I'm serious," Trip replied, startled. "I do this kind of stuff for a living. Investments, money management...I can take her down."

  "No way, Hank. You're nowhere near cut-throat enough to play with us."

  He frowned.

  "Alright, Hank. We'll give it a go," Darla said, still laughing as she threw open the apartment door. "You'll see."

  "Huzzah!" Darla's roommate yelled, seeing them in the doorway. "Monopoly night! Get ready for an ass-kicking!"

  Three hours later, Trip sat in the tiny apartment at the tiny kitchen table, watching in amusement as the ladies bargained and wheedled their way through the end of the game of Monopoly. He'd long since been booted out of the game; Darla and Sue ganged up together to ensure he was the first one out.

  I probably shouldn't have bragged about this being my job, he thought to himself, smiling.

  He left the apartment shortly before three in the morning. He had to be up for work in three hours but couldn't be sorry for all the laughter or the extended good night kiss.

  The stress of the day hadn't been forgotten, but it was somehow lessened by the pure joy of great company.

  6

  Wednesday morning, Trip stood in front of his bathroom mirror, meticulously tying his tie for an early breakfast meeting with Edward Canton. His lack of sleep was starting to show.

  After a long day digging through old files on Tuesday, he'd gone for pizza, sitting in Darla's section until she got off work. He'd walked her home, taking a long way around as they talked through their days. It was well after midnight before he was back to his apartment.

  The bags under his eyes made him look rough, but Trip still couldn't regret the late nights.

  His mind wandered to the meeting ahead. Edward Canton had gathered the account statements from his wife's cousin. The statements would give Trip something to cross-reference the internal files against.

  Three days into digging, he still wasn't sure what he was looking at. There was abnormal account activity, but it didn't necessarily mean fraud. And the activity was inconsistent. It didn't align with similar transactions J.R. had made at the same time. There were still pieces of this puzzle missing and more digging to do.

  As he pulled more files on Tuesday, J.R. had asked what he was looking for. Blank faced, Trip wasn't sure what to say. He had mumbled something about preparing for a breakfast meeting before hurrying away.

  Trip couldn't confront his father just yet. If he was wrong, there would be a horrible fallout.

  If he was right... Well, if he was right, he wasn't sure he'd confront his father at all. He'd turn everything over to the authorities and let the investigation run its course.

  But first, Edward Canton and breakfast.

  "Ah, Henry, right on time," Edward Canton murmured, climbing to his feet to shake hands as Trip followed the butler to the Canton family dining room.

  "Good morning, sir. I hope you're well."

  "I am well, Henry. I'm delighted you could make it for breakfast and equally delighted to not see your father this morning. Coffee?" Edward gestured to the silver serving tray sitting on the table.

  Trip's lips turned up. "I may have forgotten to mention the meeting to him yesterday."

  Edward grinned. "Alas, neither Vanessa nor Mary will be joining us this morning. They had a prior engagement, and I may have forgotten to mention who was coming to breakfast."

  Meeting Edward's eyes, Trip smiled and nodded his thanks.

  "You're a good man, Henry. I'd like to see Vanessa with someone like you. You think she's too pampered?"

  Trip's cheeks flushed red. "Ah, well..." He cleared his throat.

  Edward laughed, amused by the discomfort. "Or is it the nails?"

  "They're like claws, sir," Trip blurted.

  Edward threw his head back, laughing harder. "I said that to my wife weeks ago and got shunned over dinner."

  "I'm seeing someone else," Trip murmured once the laughter died down.

  "Ah. Your mother told Mary you weren't seeing anyone."

  The conversation stalled when an older woman wearing an apron over casual clothes walked into the room. After asking how Trip wanted
his eggs, she topped off the coffee cups, then left the room again.

  Edward sipped his coffee and continued. "I apologize for the horrible dinner on Saturday. I didn't intend for it to be such an altercation. Your father and his smug laughter bring out the worst of my temper. Your grandfather would not have tolerated that kind of attitude from anyone. When you called yesterday, I was delighted to hear you were digging into the account discrepancies. You and your grandfather would have been perfectly in step with each other. You are the spitting image of him as a young man. Did you know?"

  Trip nodded. He'd seen pictures.

  "Your grandfather was a great man and something of a mentor to me when I was younger. I'm sorry you didn't get to know him. Still, the similarities in your dispositions are uncanny. It has to drive your father crazy. But it's a breath of fresh air to me, like visiting with an old friend."

  "Thank you," Trip murmured, fiddling with the coffee to avoid meeting Edward's eyes.

  "If only the rest of your family followed the same paradigm,” Canton continued. “Mary wanted to invest elsewhere when Jerry got involved in the firm. He was a worm. Your sister is better off without him."

  Trip snorted in surprise, nodding in agreement. Jerry, his sister's wayward ex-husband, was undoubtedly a worm.

  The woman in the apron reappeared, setting down large plates of food.

  "Thank you," Trip mumbled, nodding to her.

  "Yes, thank you, Grace." Edward smiled at the woman's back as she walked away. Picking up his silverware, Edward continued. "Enough of that. Enough of memory lane. I just want you to know I respect the person you are, Henry. Should you ever need my assistance, you're welcome to call me, regardless of how things shake out with J.R."

  Trip's eyebrows lifted as he watched Edward. "That's ominous."

  Edward nodded. "I'll let you investigate and help how I can, but I've been through the statements. This looks like fraud to me. Embezzlement. I won't continue to invest where there's even a hint of mishandled funds."

  With a nod, Trip picked at his eggs. While not surprising, it was hard to hear the Canton accounts had been lost already.