"I'm glad you're back, Caroline," Humphrey smiled from the back seat of the Mercedes at his granddaughter as she drove them into the waiting driveway of Maple Grove. "I've missed these little chats of ours."
At the wheel, Caroline chuckled faintly. "I've missed them, too, Grandpa," she assured him.
She was never going to be the same Caroline again, Humphrey knew. There was a new steel inside her, a strength that she'd been lacking before her ordeal at the hands of that sadist, Anubis. She hadn't been out as much as she used to, though he had his suspicions that it was more to do with ignoring her fears than facing them. He needed her to face at least some of those fears, and soon.
The black car pulled up outside the big house. Moments later, Caroline was opening the door to help him get out. His cane grated on the gravel for a moment, before he got himself under his own control, gently removing his elbow from her helping hand.
"Get the car settled and yourself fed, and come up to see me," he suggested to his granddaughter fondly, patting her arm. "I want to run something past you."
There was a brief pause while confusion flitted across her face, but Caroline nodded obediently. "Whatever you say, Grandpa. I'll be about half an hour?"
Humphrey smiled, nodding to himself as he walked up the steps. "Good, good. In my study, Caroline."
He listened as the car started up, nodding once more to Henson, the old butler who opened the door for him. His nurse was waiting for him in his study, ready to check the condition of his ulcered calf and redress the weeping wound. Humphrey Granger was a proud man, and although he knew he was falling apart physically, he would not let anyone see it who didn't have to. There were some in the family who would not hesitate to use his increasing frailty as ammunition against him.
Thanking Miranda for her attentions as usual, he waited until she had left before disregarding her advice entirely and rising to his feet, ignoring the sharp pang in his leg for the ill-advised movement. The windows were opened to let out the smell of rotting flesh before Caroline came up to see him as he'd requested, and he withdrew a large binder of files from the locked draw of his desk.
This binder - and the larger files it came from - was the stuff of legend within GrangerGuild. Every head of the organisation had owned it, added to it during their tenure. It had never been out of Granger hands. It was a record of all the dealings of the Granger family since Thaddeus' time, four hundred years of notes, diaries, and insight into the men and women who had held the ever-growing GrangerGuild Conglomerate in the palm of their hand. It had belonged to Humphrey for forty years, and he was growing sick of the sight of it.
He opened it to his own notes, the last entry he had made not more than three days beforehand, reading it over thoughtfully.
The natives are getting restless. They know I'm not likely to last out another decade, if that, and for some of them, this seems to be all the invitation they need to begin recruiting support for their bids in the event of my death. I should find that morbid. I do, however, find it rather amusing; each one of those hopefuls will go up in smoke if Caroline agrees to what I have planned.
She's been a good student, all these years, even if she didn't know she was being taught. Her mistakes are a thing of the past; I covered the evidence of her embezzling myself, while it was happening. Even I, in my aged state, understand why she wanted so badly to get away from all of us, and the Alliance are not so fluid in their loyalties as she thinks. But she could do great things with this sprawling, over-confident empire we've created. A breath of fresh air, so to speak.
There was a knock on the door, and Caroline slipped in, shivering a little in the blast of wintry air from the windows. "Geez, Grandpa, it's cold in here," she complained, moving to shut the windows herself with or without his permission.
Humphrey chuckled at her entrance, shaking his head with a smile, and gestured for her to come over to him. She did so, leaning her hip against the corner of the desk as she looked down at him.
"You look tired," she told him in concern. "And you're not eating properly. Seriously, how can we convince the whole company that you've discovered the secret of eternal life if you won't play along?"
Again, the Old Man laughed, reaching up to pat her hand where it lay against her leg. "My dear, dear girl, even with the most persistent will in the world, I am not going to last much more than a few more years and we all know it," he told her gently, ignoring the distress that coloured her familiar brown eyes at this information. "But have no fear. I have no intention of leaving you all to the vicissitudes of Daniel, Junior, Bogart, and their ilk. I have," he paused dramatically, "a Plan."
Her brows rose with surprise and interest. "Oh, do you now" How, exactly, are you going to keep them from ripping everything apart in their mad power struggle to get the top spot?"
"By naming my successor, my dear," he informed her with a triumphant twitch of his lips. "Everything is set in motion, all I need is the consent of my chosen heir. Once I have that, my personal lawyer can lock everything up water-tight and those blundering buffoons who think they're in charge can go take a long walk off a short pier, for all I care."
"And you want my help getting this consent, right?" Caroline's tone was fond, if suspicious and more than a little resigned. "Why, who did you choose" Ollie?"
"Oh, I would never do that to young Oliver," Humphrey shook his head. "The poor lad's been through enough getting out of this mess we call a family business, I'm not so heartless as to draw him back in with an old man's illness. But if he were not so very talented with his brushes and coals, that would be a very good suggestion, Caroline."
She rolled her eyes, settling more comfortably on the edge of the desk. "So who am I breaking the news to?" she asked curiously. "If you say Louis, I might just beat you to death with your own cane right here."
Again, Humphrey laughed, shaking his head in amusement at her forthright opinions so bluntly stated.
"Of course not," he snorted. "Your uncle, while possessed of a few good points, is sadly lacking in that most basic area of common sense. As evidenced by his choice of a wife." His face twisted into a grimace; Jay had been a sore spot between Humphrey and his son for a long time, even moreso since the recent revelations about Correy and Kaylee.
"Okay, now you really have to tell me," Caroline insisted firmly. "Cut the cryptic crap and get to the point."
The Old Man's face grew solemn as he looked up at her. There was no gentle way to break this news, and he needed her to understand that it was no joke. His wrinkled hands lifted the binder in front of him. "You know what this is, do you not, Caroline?"
She looked down at it, biting her lip thoughtfully, and nodded. "That's your part of the files, the ones we're not supposed to know about but everyone does."
He nodded, pleased she had retained the respect for the files, if not the men and women who had made them. He laid the binder gently in her lap, watching as her hands reflexively closed about it. "In a few months' time, it will be yours."
At the wheel, Caroline chuckled faintly. "I've missed them, too, Grandpa," she assured him.
She was never going to be the same Caroline again, Humphrey knew. There was a new steel inside her, a strength that she'd been lacking before her ordeal at the hands of that sadist, Anubis. She hadn't been out as much as she used to, though he had his suspicions that it was more to do with ignoring her fears than facing them. He needed her to face at least some of those fears, and soon.
The black car pulled up outside the big house. Moments later, Caroline was opening the door to help him get out. His cane grated on the gravel for a moment, before he got himself under his own control, gently removing his elbow from her helping hand.
"Get the car settled and yourself fed, and come up to see me," he suggested to his granddaughter fondly, patting her arm. "I want to run something past you."
There was a brief pause while confusion flitted across her face, but Caroline nodded obediently. "Whatever you say, Grandpa. I'll be about half an hour?"
Humphrey smiled, nodding to himself as he walked up the steps. "Good, good. In my study, Caroline."
He listened as the car started up, nodding once more to Henson, the old butler who opened the door for him. His nurse was waiting for him in his study, ready to check the condition of his ulcered calf and redress the weeping wound. Humphrey Granger was a proud man, and although he knew he was falling apart physically, he would not let anyone see it who didn't have to. There were some in the family who would not hesitate to use his increasing frailty as ammunition against him.
Thanking Miranda for her attentions as usual, he waited until she had left before disregarding her advice entirely and rising to his feet, ignoring the sharp pang in his leg for the ill-advised movement. The windows were opened to let out the smell of rotting flesh before Caroline came up to see him as he'd requested, and he withdrew a large binder of files from the locked draw of his desk.
This binder - and the larger files it came from - was the stuff of legend within GrangerGuild. Every head of the organisation had owned it, added to it during their tenure. It had never been out of Granger hands. It was a record of all the dealings of the Granger family since Thaddeus' time, four hundred years of notes, diaries, and insight into the men and women who had held the ever-growing GrangerGuild Conglomerate in the palm of their hand. It had belonged to Humphrey for forty years, and he was growing sick of the sight of it.
He opened it to his own notes, the last entry he had made not more than three days beforehand, reading it over thoughtfully.
The natives are getting restless. They know I'm not likely to last out another decade, if that, and for some of them, this seems to be all the invitation they need to begin recruiting support for their bids in the event of my death. I should find that morbid. I do, however, find it rather amusing; each one of those hopefuls will go up in smoke if Caroline agrees to what I have planned.
She's been a good student, all these years, even if she didn't know she was being taught. Her mistakes are a thing of the past; I covered the evidence of her embezzling myself, while it was happening. Even I, in my aged state, understand why she wanted so badly to get away from all of us, and the Alliance are not so fluid in their loyalties as she thinks. But she could do great things with this sprawling, over-confident empire we've created. A breath of fresh air, so to speak.
There was a knock on the door, and Caroline slipped in, shivering a little in the blast of wintry air from the windows. "Geez, Grandpa, it's cold in here," she complained, moving to shut the windows herself with or without his permission.
Humphrey chuckled at her entrance, shaking his head with a smile, and gestured for her to come over to him. She did so, leaning her hip against the corner of the desk as she looked down at him.
"You look tired," she told him in concern. "And you're not eating properly. Seriously, how can we convince the whole company that you've discovered the secret of eternal life if you won't play along?"
Again, the Old Man laughed, reaching up to pat her hand where it lay against her leg. "My dear, dear girl, even with the most persistent will in the world, I am not going to last much more than a few more years and we all know it," he told her gently, ignoring the distress that coloured her familiar brown eyes at this information. "But have no fear. I have no intention of leaving you all to the vicissitudes of Daniel, Junior, Bogart, and their ilk. I have," he paused dramatically, "a Plan."
Her brows rose with surprise and interest. "Oh, do you now" How, exactly, are you going to keep them from ripping everything apart in their mad power struggle to get the top spot?"
"By naming my successor, my dear," he informed her with a triumphant twitch of his lips. "Everything is set in motion, all I need is the consent of my chosen heir. Once I have that, my personal lawyer can lock everything up water-tight and those blundering buffoons who think they're in charge can go take a long walk off a short pier, for all I care."
"And you want my help getting this consent, right?" Caroline's tone was fond, if suspicious and more than a little resigned. "Why, who did you choose" Ollie?"
"Oh, I would never do that to young Oliver," Humphrey shook his head. "The poor lad's been through enough getting out of this mess we call a family business, I'm not so heartless as to draw him back in with an old man's illness. But if he were not so very talented with his brushes and coals, that would be a very good suggestion, Caroline."
She rolled her eyes, settling more comfortably on the edge of the desk. "So who am I breaking the news to?" she asked curiously. "If you say Louis, I might just beat you to death with your own cane right here."
Again, Humphrey laughed, shaking his head in amusement at her forthright opinions so bluntly stated.
"Of course not," he snorted. "Your uncle, while possessed of a few good points, is sadly lacking in that most basic area of common sense. As evidenced by his choice of a wife." His face twisted into a grimace; Jay had been a sore spot between Humphrey and his son for a long time, even moreso since the recent revelations about Correy and Kaylee.
"Okay, now you really have to tell me," Caroline insisted firmly. "Cut the cryptic crap and get to the point."
The Old Man's face grew solemn as he looked up at her. There was no gentle way to break this news, and he needed her to understand that it was no joke. His wrinkled hands lifted the binder in front of him. "You know what this is, do you not, Caroline?"
She looked down at it, biting her lip thoughtfully, and nodded. "That's your part of the files, the ones we're not supposed to know about but everyone does."
He nodded, pleased she had retained the respect for the files, if not the men and women who had made them. He laid the binder gently in her lap, watching as her hands reflexively closed about it. "In a few months' time, it will be yours."