The Christmas Campaign. Patricia Bradley

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      Peter skimmed the papers and abruptly stopped, frowning.

      A half million dollars. He blinked and looked again. No, he’d seen right. He raised his gaze to the lawyer, who sat with his hands clasped together on the desk, his face unreadable. Peter sneaked a glance at Jake. His wide eyes indicated he’d seen the figure, too.

      “Now, if you are ready, I’ll go over the broad points of the contest. You can read the fine print later at your convenience. You are welcome to make notes on the papers I gave you.”

      Without waiting for an answer, he began reading.

      “Okay, boys, you both know that for several years, it’s been in my heart to start two things in Cedar Grove. A place for senior citizens to meet and another one for teenagers. A year ago I purchased a building that would be suitable to house either of these projects. I’m assigning the youth project to Peter and the senior citizen project to Jake.

      “You have ninety days to form a nonprofit organization and to come up with a five-year business plan, as well as obtain approval and backing from the city, which will include twenty-five thousand dollars a year to help run the operation. The rest of the money to run it will come from the half million dollars the winner receives. Whichever one of you is the first to get approval gets the building and the half million dollars. He also becomes CEO of Elliott Manufacturing.

      “However, in obtaining city backing, neither this contest nor the subsequent funding can be mentioned. If the city doesn’t believe in the project enough to invest in it, you don’t have their support.

      “As for a director for your project, it can’t be either of you. If you can’t get someone to volunteer to head it initially, you haven’t done your job. Whichever of you wins will then have the pleasure of hiring a director.”

      Jake leaned forward. “I don’t think it’s fair that Peter has the advantage of being on the city council.”

      Peter snorted. “That’s no advantage when I have two people who almost always vote against me, no matter what it is.”

      Getting this project through wouldn’t be a slam dunk. He could probably count on two other members to vote his way, and the mayor if there was a tie. Then there was Cal and his crony, George Bivens—the two picked apart any proposal presented to the city council that didn’t come from either of them. That left G. Nicole Montgomery.

      While she didn’t always vote against him, she asked hard financial questions. Which shouldn’t surprise him, since she was the bookkeeper in her dad’s small family-run company. Of the six council members, Nicole was the one who focused more on the money aspect of a project. Everything would have to be in order, and the numbers would have to add up, for her to vote for it.

      If he couldn’t sell her on the city spending twenty-five thousand dollars a year, she would sway the other members to vote against the proposal. Even the ones who usually voted with him.

      “It’s still not fair,” Jake shot back. “And I don’t think you should vote when I present my proposal to the board meeting.”

      “Didn’t plan to. Or on mine, either,” Peter replied. He turned to Corbett. “When do the ninety days start?”

      “And who will run the company until the winner is declared?” Jake asked.

      “The ninety days starts now, and Jake will continue to run the day-to-day operations.” Corbett took two letter-sized envelopes from his briefcase. “This is from your grandfather and to be read in private.”

      Peter took the envelope, and his breath hitched at his grandfather’s large, flowing scrawl. It was hard to believe he was really gone.

      * * *

      AFTER PETER AND the attorney left, Jake wandered around the den, mentally forming a plan to win the contest. Becoming CEO of Elliott Manufacturing had been his lifelong dream. He couldn’t believe his grandfather hadn’t left it to him outright, instead of making him jump through hoops.

      But, if it took jumping through hoops, he’d do it. He stopped in front of the bookcase and ran his fingers over the spines of a few of the books. The Hunt for Red October, The Firm... He paused to count a series collection and smiled. Every one of the Jack Reacher books was there.

      Yeah, his grandfather was a man’s man, and for as long as Jake could remember, he’d wanted to be like him. On another shelf above the books were several of his grandfather’s carvings, and Jake slipped a small whittling knife from his pocket.

      Out of everything Richard Elliott had ever given Jake, the knife meant the most. It’s my favorite knife, he’d told Jake. It’s small enough to carry with you—that way, if you can find a piece of wood, you’ll never be bored.

      Like everything else, the knife was an object lesson. Jake no longer remembered what underhanded thing he’d done to Peter, but his grandfather had caught him at it. Winning is good, but it’s not the most important thing. How you win is much more important, and I want this knife to be a reminder that win or lose, it’s all about honor.

      He wished he could say he’d always followed his grandfather’s words. If the truth were known, probably the opposite was true, especially when it came to women...or Peter.

      Jake crammed the knife back in his pocket. He didn’t know why he still carried it, unless it was to remind him of his connection to his cousin.

      He and Peter were so different, even down to their styles of running businesses. Peter, a textbook type A personality, liked having his finger on the pulse of every aspect of a project, where Jake usually took a more relaxed stance. And while it might look like he wasn’t really doing anything, the job always got done.

      He looked up as Millie entered the den.

      “Oh! I thought everyone was gone. I’ll come back later.” She turned to leave.

      “Don’t go,” he said, suddenly tired of his thoughts.

      Millie hesitated. “You miss him, don’t you?”

      “Yeah. It helps that you and Gunner are staying on, though.”

      “Mr. Elliott was a generous man, and Gunner and I want to help keep this place like he wanted it.”

      “I know what you mean.” Jake sat behind his grandfather’s desk in the leather chair.

      Millie’s fingers fluttered to her face. “Oh, my goodness, how you remind me of him.”

      “Me?” Jake had never thought he looked like his grandfather. That honor went to Peter.

      “Except for your dark hair, you could almost be him sitting there.”

      Jake sat a little straighter. He’d always been told he favored the O’Neils, especially his father. Not something he liked to hear since Keith O’Neil was the poster child for wild living and divorce after leaving Jake’s mother.

      “Are you going to do it?”

      He frowned. “Do what?”

      “Build the senior center Mr. Elliott wanted.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ