Uncle Joe greeted me with a hug and kiss on my forehead when I boarded his private jet. Dad carried my luggage aboard and secured it in the cupboard to contain it during the flight. "Did you bring it?" Dad asked.
"Yes," Uncle Joe replied. I had no idea what they were talking about. Uncle Joe opened his briefcase to remove some papers. He unfolded them and flattened them on the table. "Stephanie, I need you to sign this document to confirm you received the painting from your grandfather's estate. Your father ensured its authenticity."
Furrowing my brows, I signed the document. I don't understand why I had to go through this process. Dad saved me the trouble. "Do you know why you put your initials on the painting?" Dad asked. I shook my head. "Your grandfather had his will written after your cousin Francine's birth. She's the youngest of the Plum grandchildren. During a family gathering, your grandfather asked everyone to write their initials on the item they hoped to inherit. You patiently waited for your cousins to select an item. Once your Aunt Eleanor helped Francine put her initials on the curio cabinet and contents, you walked to the painting. I picked you up and expected you to write your initials on the frame. You wrote on the exposed corner of the canvas. My father, your grandfather, was upset. I thought my mother would be upset, but I learned she hated the painting, claiming it didn't look as good as the other ones owned by my uncles and aunts. Your great-grandmother smiled and promised to cover it with paint. She had to apply the oil in several layers since it wouldn't adhere to the marker."
"Is that why you removed that glob? To ensure it was real?"
"Yes. I had to find your initials written with a red Sharpie. Only your Grandparents and I knew it was red. The others thought it was black and tried to replicate it on my grandmother's other paintings," Dad confessed.
"So…what's the significance of that particular painting? It's a twisted landscape, and I think it's unique. I can identify with the warped trees and rocky creek."
Dad chuckled. "Your grandfather was amused by how much you loved that painting. When he received it from my grandmother as a wedding gift, your grandmother hated it. She never wanted it hanging on the walls where their guests could see it. Your grandmother had it hidden in a closet - out of sight, out of mind, but not for you. Much to your grandfather's amusement, you would find that painting and stare at it for hours," he said. "When my mother hid it in the attic, my father said that was the day he decided everything he owned would go to the grandchild who claimed the painting for their inheritance. He hung it on the wall and patiently waited for someone to claim it."
"What? Are you kidding?" I asked. "I only wanted the painting."
"Because of that, you inherited everything. Plum Technical Engineering Services is now yours, Pumpkin. Your uncle runs the everyday operations. It's your decision to keep him as the CEO or to replace him with yourself," Dad said. Everything was overwhelming. What do I know about running a company?
"Won't Uncle Vincent get upset?" I asked.
"No. He held the company in trust until the rightful heir could take the reins. Vincent is willing to continue as CEO, but you make the decisions in the company," Dad replied.
"Um…can he be the CEO, and I'll use my vacation time to decide how to move forward?" I wondered, hoping Uncle Vincent would respect my wishes.
"You are more like your uncle than you think. He knew you would need the time. Take as much time as necessary to make a decision. The partners are willing to purchase the company from you," Dad offered.
I wasn't sure Grandpa Plum would want me to do that. He gave me the company for a reason. Maybe I could branch out like Rangeman. It was an intriguing thought. "I need to know more about the company before making any decisions," I replied.
"Everything you need to know is in your Uncle Joe's briefcase," Dad said, pointing to the item on the table. He kissed my forehead and stood. I watched him shake Uncle Joe's hand and thanked him for flying me to Bozeman.
Another man boarded the plane. I recognized him as Jacob Juniak, Joe's son. "Hey, Steph," Jacob greeted.
"Hi. It's nice to see you again," I said, grinning from ear to ear. It had been too long since I saw Jake. He enlisted into the Air Force and permanently moved out of Trenton. "Don't you live in Florida?"
"Yes, but I was home for my cousin's wedding." Jacob entered the cockpit. He grinned and shouted, "It's been a while since I flew this craft. I hope I still remember."
When my eyes bulged, Uncle Joe said, "He likes to say that to everyone. Jake knows how to fly this plane." I didn't relax until the plane levelled, and Jacob announced we were free to roam the cabin.
"What documents do you have?" I asked.
Uncle Joe gave me the briefcase. Everything regarding Plum Technical Engineering Services was inside folders. I took the time to review everything on the flight. The PTES logo was written in deep purple ink on every document except the legal transfer paperwork.
It reminded me of a logo I saw on Rangeman's technical support contract. Could it be? Does Rangeman use my grandfather's company for his equipment and technical expertise? How could I find out for sure?
I must have spoken my thoughts when Uncle Joe replied, "You need to assume ownership before reviewing client contracts."
"Don't we need a lawyer for this?" I asked, making my decision. I had to take over the company. It was my duty as Francis Plum Sr's heir.
Joe knowingly smiled and connected a call. I raised my brows as he placed the call on video chat. "Paul, Stephanie decided to assume ownership, leaving Vincent Renzo Plum as the CEO," Joe said.
"Any division of assets assigned to cousins or other family members?" Paul asked.
Uncle Joe looked to me for the answer. I replied, "No. I want the management team to remain until I decide how to proceed. All major purchases and decisions need to be discussed with me. I don't want anyone trying to walk away with the assets."
"Your uncle won't let that happen," Joe insisted. "He's maintained a tight control and ensured the company expanded where necessary."
"Okay. Where do I sign?" I asked.
After pointing out the essential details that required my initials, Paul indicated a few spots on the transfer paperwork. I added a few notes on the blank page provided for annotations. Items included a board meeting upon transfer completion and access to all bank accounts and employee records. I wanted everything. "You're tenacious. PTES will thrive under your ownership," Paul laughed after I signed the documents. "Joe, once you land, I need you to send me everything."
"My jet has wifi. I'll send the paperwork now. We should be landing in twenty minutes," Joe replied.
I fidgeted, twisting my fingers in the hem of my shirt as Uncle Joe scanned the transfer documents. It was overwhelming and a lot to absorb. My emotions rose to the surface, not quite threatening to overtake all of my senses. I hoped to keep that tamped down for a few more minutes to process everything I just accepted. Grandpa trusted me, the family fuckup, to run the company he built from the ground up. I don't understand why he never gave the company to Dad, Uncle Vincent, or Uncle Tony. Well, I can understand not leaving it to Uncle Tony since he was too much like his son, Vinnie, my sexually deviant cousin. Uncle Tony would have run the company into bankruptcy to support his hookers and gambling addiction.
Uncle Vincent was running the company according to Grandpa's instructions. He was the best man to run the show. I don't want to take the CEO position from him. Uncle Vincent was an asset to the business. His leadership kept the company thriving.
Dad had a career in the Army. He joined the special ops and retired once his job with the post office ended. I think Dad enjoyed driving the cab in his spare time. How would Valerie or Mom react once they know I own a billion-dollar company?
Panic sets in, taking a solid hold of me. I pulled my knees up, resting my feet on the seat, and buried my head between my knees. Would Mom demand I share the inheritance with Valerie? What would happen if I die? Who would inherit the estate? Would the family divide the assets?
"Stephanie!" Uncle Joe yelled. I raised my head to look at him. "Buckle yourself," he said.
"Oh. Okay," I whispered, lowering my feet. I fumbled with the belt. Uncle Joe leaned over me to assist. He grabbed my hand and rubbed comforting circles on the back. I closed my eyes and relaxed while absorbing his strength.
When the plane landed, I released my grip on Uncle Joe's hand. He squeezed it before helping me unbuckle the seatbelt. "Thanks," I said.
Uncle Joe removed my luggage from the cupboard. He carried them down the stairs, passing them to the man awaiting with the black Crown Victoria with tinted windows. I tipped my head back and let the sun warm my face.
The driver took us to the car rental place, where Uncle Joe used his name to rent a car for me. I provided a copy of my license, and we purchased insurance from the rental company. I appreciated his assistance. Before Uncle Joe closed my vehicle door, he said, "Paul Jennings is flying out tomorrow. He wants to meet with you to draft your will."
"Thanks, Uncle Joe," I replied, unsure what else to say. Uncle Joe winked and tapped the hood. I started the car and drove away.
My phone rang as I drove to a bed and breakfast recommended by Uncle Joe's driver, but I let it go to voicemail. I would listen to it later. Sharlene and James Nelson ran the Nelson Mansion Bed & Breakfast on the Nelson's farm. The main house was a quarter of a mile from the barn. It was easy to find. I stared at the gorgeous house with a wrap-around porch. "Wow," I mumbled while parking in the gravel lot beside the home.
A kind woman exited the house upon my arrival. She wiped her hands on the blue apron before extending it to me. I shook her hand, "Hi, I'm Stephanie Juniak. Do you have room for me?"
"Of course, my dear," she replied. "I'm Sharlene. My husband, James, and son, Jamie, are in the fields, tending to the livestock. They're preparing a calf for the rodeo auction."
"Do you accept cash or credit?" I asked.
"We can accept the credit card if you wish to hang onto your cash a little longer," she giggled. "Some of the vendors at the rodeo prefer cash transactions. You are planning to attend the rodeo and music festival, right?"
"Yes. I've never gone to a rodeo and wanted to see one," I confessed.
"Follow me." Sharlene led me inside the house. We went to the counter she had set aside for the Bed & Breakfast. I paid for four weeks and tucked the receipt into my purse. I was thankful Sharlene never asked me for my ID. If I spoke my thoughts, she never mentioned it.
Sharlene showed me the room where I would stay for the next month. "Does your family live in the house?" I asked when we walked past an area on the main floor closed to visitor access.
"We have the guests stay upstairs. The main floor west wing is for my family and not for public viewing," Sharlene explained. "My son secured it with locks you can't pick or bump." I noticed the living room and dining room contained scenic photographs. Nothing personal hung on the walls or sat on shelves. Everything was generic farm life stills. One photograph caught my eye. I mentally noted to take another look.
"You'll stay in this room, Stephanie," Sharlene said. She removed a key from the ring and passed it to me after confirming it unlocked the door.
"Do you need access to the room for cleaning?" I asked.
"Only if you ask for it," Sharlene replied. "You have access to the laundry if you prefer washing your belongings. I have spare sheets and towels in the closet." Sharlene entered the room to open the closet. The items she mentioned are on the shelves on the right side. "Put the soiled linens in the laundry bag and leave it outside your room. I'll collect them during breakfast."
"Daily?" I asked.
"Only if you fall asleep before changing for bed, dear. The rodeo dust gets into everything, and keeping the rooms clean is easier if the bedding gets changed after spending a day outdoors. I run a tight ship here," Sharlene warned.
"That sounds like something my friends back home would say," I giggled.
Sharlene grinned and left me to get settled in the room. I placed my suitcases on the bed and emptied the contents into the drawers. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I had forgotten to eat. I hoped there would be somewhere close to grab food. The bench beneath the window overlooking the farmland looked inviting. I took a few moments to sit and reflect on my life. What do I want? I stared outside, hoping the waves of wheat blowing in the slight breeze could offer some insight.
Unfortunately, the waving wheat held no answers. My stomach rumbled a long, painful protest from lack of nourishment. I rubbed my angry stomach and stood. It was time for me to eat.
"Are you settled?" Sharlene asked when I descended the stairs.
"Enough," I replied. "Is there a diner close by?"
"A few blocks away. When you exit the parking area, turn right and drive to the stop sign. Turn left and follow the signs to the Bozeman Diner," Sharlene replied. "If you can wait another two hours, I'll have dinner ready." She giggled when my stomach released its impatience.
"Maybe tomorrow. I have to get something to eat now," I said. Sharlene's directions were perfect. It only took fifteen minutes to find the diner.
There were a lot of parking spots available since it was between lunch and dinner. I parked closest to the door, smiling at having Rangeman karma. Before leaving the car, I called Mom. She answered on the second ring.
"Hi, Mom," I said, smiling at her predictable greeting.
"Oh, Stephanie. Are you there already?" Mom asked.
"Not yet, Mom. I have further to go," I lied, hoping my voice remained even and Mom would miss my fib.
"Stay safe, Stephanie. Call your father if you need anything," Mom said, sounding distracted by whoever was making noise in the background.
"Thanks. I'll call you next week, Mom."
"Call or send your father a text. I have the kids during the day," Mom replied. She loved spending time with Angie, Mary Alice, Lisa and Bert.
"Sure thing, Mom. I'll call Daddy with updates. Bye," I said. Mom said a hurried goodbye and hung up. Smiling, I dropped my phone into my purse. After glancing at the mirror to check my hair, I exited the car to enter the diner.
A pleasant, plump woman close to my mother's age greeted me with a smile. "Welcome to Bozeman Diner." She glanced behind me and added, "Are you alone, darlin'?"
"It's just me," I giggled.
"My name is Nora," she said, pointing to her name tag. "Would you like a booth or stool?"
I weighed my options before deciding, "Could I have that back booth?"
"Of course, darlin'," Nora replied. She guided me to the back table. Another waitress quickly arrived to give the top a swipe of the cleansing cloth. I smiled when I smelled a faint scent of lemon Lysol. Nora passed me a menu when I settled on the bench with my back to the wall.
When I checked the menu, I noticed the diner served all-day breakfast. My eyes kept returning to the Harvest Scramble. The scrambled eggs contained ham, sausage, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, bell peppers, onions, spinach and cheese. I grinned and caught Nora's eye.
Smiling, Nora approached. "Are you ready to order, darlin'?"
"Yes," I replied. "I'll have the Harvest Scramble with a side order of fries." Nora raised her brows, but recorded my order on the notepad she pulled from her apron.
"And to drink?"
"Coke if you have it," I answered, returning her smile.
Nora left my table to put my order slip on the order wheel. She turns it to face the kitchen. I watched as she poured my drink from the soda fountain. Nora returned less than a minute later with my drink. She placed it on the table with a glass of ice water. I mumbled my thanks and watched her leave.
Fifteen minutes later, Nora placed my food on the table. "Are you sure you can eat all that?" Nora asked.
Laughing, I replied, "I'm starving." My stomach accented my claim by grumbling. "I may have a food baby after, but I can handle this. Thank you."
"Just holler if you need anything else, darlin'," Nora said before moving to the counter to refill another customer's coffee.
As I pulled the last fry through the ketchup on my plate, I saw an attractive, sandy-haired man exiting a truck. His ass was the first thing I noticed. Once he turned to the side, I jumped from my seat and tossed a couple of twenties on the table.
"Thank you," I hurriedly said and ran to the washroom. Why was he here? I tried to remember where he grew up.
His familiar voice echoed in the hallway outside the restroom doors, "I just have to hit the head, and I'll be back."
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I hissed. I peeked around the door to see if the hallway was clear. With a relieved sigh, I exited the women's washroom and bolted through the doors leading outside. My spidey sense indicated someone was watching me. I didn't look over my shoulder or relax until I returned to the bed & breakfast.
When I retired to my rented room, I returned to the bench and sat, staring out the window as the sun slowly retreated into the horizon. Another day was drawing to a close. I was curious about what wonders the morning would bring.