before mouthing off to me and throwing it all away.”
“Do you honestly think I want to be trapped here in this one-horse town running a cotton mill?” Walter demanded before he could stop himself. “I had my own dream, and, believe me, this wasn’t it. But I came back here because it was what you expected.”
Facing down his father was something he should have done years ago, but he hadn’t. Only recently had he realized why. “I figured I owed you because of all you’d done for me,” he said now. “And even you can’t deny that I’ve done a damn good job for you. I even gave you the grandson you were so anxious to have, so the Price legacy would be assured. Well, you know what? I’m done worrying about you and what you want. I’m going to start trying to figure out what I want, and then I’m going after it.”
He saw his father’s complexion turn ashen as he watched Walter heading for the door.
“You come back here this minute!” Marshall shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk, sending papers and a coffee cup flying.
“Sorry, Dad. I’m done dancing to your tune.” Walter let that sink in, then added, “When I get back here— if I come back here—things are going to have to change. You’re going to have to show some respect for me or I will leave, and next time it will be for good.”
He walked out before his father could respond, shutting the door emphatically behind him.
Not until he was outside in the fresh air and on his way to Serenity did he think about the ramifications of what he’d done. It had felt too good to finally say all the things that had been building up ever since he’d come home with the girl he loved only to be sucked into a life he didn’t want.
Unfortunately, he knew there’d be hell to pay on Monday. Marshall Price didn’t take disrespect lightly. For all Walter knew he’d come back and find the locks on the mill had been changed and his house slapped with a foreclosure sign by the bank. His dad and the bank’s chairman were golfing buddies. He wouldn’t hesitate to do Marshall a favor, legalities be damned.
But for one glorious moment on Thursday afternoon, Walter felt like his old self, a man worthy of respect. Maybe even worthy of love. Probably not Sarah’s, of course. There was too much water under that bridge. It would have to be someone else who could make him feel the way she once had…as if he’d hung the moon.
On Saturday morning Travis looked around his new radio station with satisfaction. Bill Roberts, the prior owner of the station, had been in here for the past week checking out all the new equipment, setting up the studio so it was ready to go on the air, advising Travis on a million details. Roberts was the kind of man who was meant to mentor. Endlessly patient, he was generous with his time and expertise. He had a wicked sense of humor, as well, something Travis could definitely appreciate.
Bill walked into the little foyer, plucked an ice-cold Coke from the cooler and settled his lanky frameinto one of the two chairs. “You ready to make your big announcement?”
Travis grinned. “I should be asking you that question. Am I?”
“Seems to me everything’s in place. What time’s the press conference?”
Calling a press conference in Serenity wasn’t exactly the same as calling one in Charleston or up in Boston, where the sports reporters had lined up to get a glimpse of him after his signing with the Red Sox. Here, there was only the local weekly to worry about, so Travis had actually opted for inviting the entire town to the formal unveiling of the radio station. It would be another two weeks before they officially went on the air, but it was time to let the cat out of the bag. Past time, according to Grace. Given all the wild speculation lately, he was counting on a large crowd.
“Ten o’clock,” Travis told Bill. “But there’s one thing I need to do before we get started.”
Bill regarded him approvingly.
“Do you honestly think I want to be trapped here in this one-horse town running a cotton mill?” Walter demanded before he could stop himself. “I had my own dream, and, believe me, this wasn’t it. But I came back here because it was what you expected.”
Facing down his father was something he should have done years ago, but he hadn’t. Only recently had he realized why. “I figured I owed you because of all you’d done for me,” he said now. “And even you can’t deny that I’ve done a damn good job for you. I even gave you the grandson you were so anxious to have, so the Price legacy would be assured. Well, you know what? I’m done worrying about you and what you want. I’m going to start trying to figure out what I want, and then I’m going after it.”
He saw his father’s complexion turn ashen as he watched Walter heading for the door.
“You come back here this minute!” Marshall shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk, sending papers and a coffee cup flying.
“Sorry, Dad. I’m done dancing to your tune.” Walter let that sink in, then added, “When I get back here— if I come back here—things are going to have to change. You’re going to have to show some respect for me or I will leave, and next time it will be for good.”
He walked out before his father could respond, shutting the door emphatically behind him.
Not until he was outside in the fresh air and on his way to Serenity did he think about the ramifications of what he’d done. It had felt too good to finally say all the things that had been building up ever since he’d come home with the girl he loved only to be sucked into a life he didn’t want.
Unfortunately, he knew there’d be hell to pay on Monday. Marshall Price didn’t take disrespect lightly. For all Walter knew he’d come back and find the locks on the mill had been changed and his house slapped with a foreclosure sign by the bank. His dad and the bank’s chairman were golfing buddies. He wouldn’t hesitate to do Marshall a favor, legalities be damned.
But for one glorious moment on Thursday afternoon, Walter felt like his old self, a man worthy of respect. Maybe even worthy of love. Probably not Sarah’s, of course. There was too much water under that bridge. It would have to be someone else who could make him feel the way she once had…as if he’d hung the moon.
On Saturday morning Travis looked around his new radio station with satisfaction. Bill Roberts, the prior owner of the station, had been in here for the past week checking out all the new equipment, setting up the studio so it was ready to go on the air, advising Travis on a million details. Roberts was the kind of man who was meant to mentor. Endlessly patient, he was generous with his time and expertise. He had a wicked sense of humor, as well, something Travis could definitely appreciate.
Bill walked into the little foyer, plucked an ice-cold Coke from the cooler and settled his lanky frameinto one of the two chairs. “You ready to make your big announcement?”
Travis grinned. “I should be asking you that question. Am I?”
“Seems to me everything’s in place. What time’s the press conference?”
Calling a press conference in Serenity wasn’t exactly the same as calling one in Charleston or up in Boston, where the sports reporters had lined up to get a glimpse of him after his signing with the Red Sox. Here, there was only the local weekly to worry about, so Travis had actually opted for inviting the entire town to the formal unveiling of the radio station. It would be another two weeks before they officially went on the air, but it was time to let the cat out of the bag. Past time, according to Grace. Given all the wild speculation lately, he was counting on a large crowd.
“Ten o’clock,” Travis told Bill. “But there’s one thing I need to do before we get started.”
Bill regarded him approvingly.
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