Texas Sunrise by Fern Michaels Page B

“Concerned would be a better word. You control Coleman Enterprises and you still have your hand in Rising Sun. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m not just a goddamn figurehead.”
    Riley balled up his napkin and then started to shred it. “You control Rising Sun. No strings, remember?”
    â€œ Bullshit! There’s always a string somewhere. I just haven’t found it yet, but it will appear like magic if I don’t give in and fund Sawyer’s plane, right?”
    Riley’s eyebrows shot upward.
    â€œI’m not aware of any strings, Cole. And you know I’ve never lied to you. But you and I had a verbal agreement—East and West as one. You’re weaseling, and I don’t like it.”
    â€œI’m not weaseling. I screwed up with Sawyer. I’m sorry about that and the way it looks, so I’m prepared to make a straightforward business deal with her and apologize in the bargain. Does that make you feel better?”
    â€œNo. It’s not enough.”
    Cole leaned across the table, his blue eyes burning. “You want me to give her the money?”
    â€œMy grandfather would have. I would have.”
    â€œI’m not your grandfather and I’m not you,” Cole snarled.
    â€œObviously,” Riley said quietly.
    â€œBusiness is business. You don’t just give away a hundred million dollars.”
    â€œBack in Texas you gave me your share of Sunbridge with no strings. Together we gave Adam back his homestead. That was Coleman money, right? You could be generous with it because you were fed up and didn’t give a damn. You thought like I did back then. The bottom line, Cole, is it’s the giving that counts. And if you need more proof, just take a look at yourself and what you got.”
    Cole’s blue eyes continued to burn. “Let me make sure I understand what you’re saying. I give up a hundred million bucks, close the old checkbook and forget about it. Forget interest, forget a share in a plane that will hopefully make history. And at some point in the future maybe five, ten years from now, I’ll be paid partial payments on the principal. What kind of fool do you take me for?”
    â€œI never said you were a fool, Cole. You’re the last person in the world I’d call a fool. Look, fuck the business end of it. Let’s talk about you and me.”
    â€œWhat about you and me?” Cole asked warily.
    â€œWe were like brothers, Cole, and now we’re not. What is it, we can’t afford the phone bills to talk once in a while? I wanted to talk to you so badly while I was waiting in the hospital for Ivy to have the baby. I wanted to tell you how worried I was that something might go wrong, and then when I saw Moss for the first time I wanted to call you and tell you he had all his fingers and toes and that little jigger between his legs was . . . I wanted to share .”
    â€œThen why didn’t you?”
    â€œGoddamnit, I did. I called and left messages and even left the number of the phone booth at the hospital, but you didn’t call back. Didn’t you ever wonder why we sent a cable announcing Moss’s birth?”
    Cole’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Riley. I was going through . . . I’ve been going through . . . I can’t sleep, I can’t eat right. I drink too much coffee and I’m smoking like a chimney. I’m so wired, I can’t think straight these days.”
    â€œIs it Sumi?”
    â€œNo, of course not. She’s upset with me too, and I don’t blame her. She’d be entirely justified if she booted my ass right out of the house. I’m not a nice person these days. I have these really awful dreams. I believe—I don’t want you laughing at me, Riley—but I believe your grandfather’s spirit is in the Zen gardens. Honest to God. I take a bottle of beer out there and set it down. I walk around, and