Chapter 4 - Phoenix Rising
The Arizona sun was blazing hot, a dry heat that felt completely different from the humid, salty air of the California coast. We had been in Phoenix for three weeks. My sister, Clara, had cleared out her converted garage so the girls and I had a place to stay. It was cramped, and we were sleeping on air mattresses, but there was a strange, undeniable peace in that small space. There was no walking on eggshells. There was no Florence criticizing the way my daughters laughed too loudly.
I sat at Clara’s kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in my hands, staring at my open laptop. I was reviewing the legal documents from the divorce. Raymond had been so blinded by his rush to start his new life with Brandy that he had practically hurled the divorce papers at my lawyer. He had focused entirely on retaining the house and his personal bank accounts, smugly assuming that my swift exit meant I was forfeiting my stake in the family business.
He was wrong.
I opened the digital ledger for Pacific Oak Crafting. Legally, I still owned 43% of the company. It wasn't something he could just take back; my name was on the foundational incorporation documents from the restructuring sixteen years ago. When I saved the company, I made sure my investment was legally ironclad.
My phone buzzed on the table. The caller ID flashed a name I hadn't expected to see: Walter Miller.
I let it ring three times before sliding my finger across the screen. "Hello, Walter."
"Brenda." His voice sounded ancient. Weak. "I... I don't have the right to call you. I know that. But I didn't know who else to turn to."
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice guarded.
"Everything," Walter breathed. Over the next twenty minutes, Walter told me about the disastrous garden party. He told me about Teresa, the envelope, and the horrifying realization that Leo was Gavin’s child, not Raymond’s. He told me how Brandy had vanished the next morning, taking all the expensive jewelry Florence had bought her.
I sat back in my chair, utterly stunned. A part of me wanted to laugh at the sheer, poetic justice of it all. But the other part of me, the part that had loved Raymond for a decade and a half, felt a profound, chilling pity.
"Raymond hasn't been to the factory in weeks," Walter continued, coughing weakly. "Gavin is trying to liquidate assets to pay off his own gambling debts. The distributors are calling me, furious. Brenda... the company is going under. They're destroying everything you built."
I looked out the window. My daughters were playing in Clara’s backyard, laughing as the sprinklers washed over them. They looked so free.
"I’m sorry, Walter," I said softly, but firmly. "But that is no longer my problem."
"It will be," Walter said quietly. "I've been diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer, Brenda. I have maybe two months left."
May you like
My breath hitched. "Walter..."
"I'm transferring my 24% of the shares to you," he said, his voice suddenly sharp and clear. "Tomorrow. The lawyers are already drawing it up. That gives you 67%. You will be the majority owner. Take the company back, Brenda. Take it from them."
