I turned to the computer screen and pulled up QuickBooks. “Momma’s accounts. I’m making changes you should know about.”
When my mother passed last year, she’d left the management of her family’s money to Drew as he was a good family friend. She didn’t want our malefactor of a father to get his hands on it.
Drew had asked me to help manage the primary investment; he’d been impressed with my day-trading returns. I obliged. Each of my siblings would receive their portion of the inheritance upon reaching their thirty-first birthday. So far, only Jethro was eligible to cash out and he’d opted to leave his money where it was, having no present use for it.
Drew grabbed a chair and turned it backward, straddling it with his arms resting on the back. He was too tall for most chairs. His legs were too long. Consequently, he was always straddling them.
“Cletus, you don’t need to give me any updates.”
“Nonsense. Momma appointed you as the executor of her estate and the trustee for our accounts. This is your business.”
He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable, and not because the chair was too small. “You know why she did that, and I was happy to help. But you’re better at fund management than I am.”
Drew Runous might not have been related to us by blood, but I considered him a brother. We all did. Except my sister, Ashley, of course. They’d been together since last Christmas and we were expecting a proposal any day now.
Any day now.
Any. Day.
I glanced at him, saw his eyes were squinted as he read the totals. He read them again, then flinched back, his mouth agape. I smiled because I’d never seen Drew gape before.
“Catching flies, Drew?”
He snapped his mouth shut, swallowed, and then pointed at the screen. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what did you do? How’d you do that? That’s got to be a return of, what, ten times the original investment?”
“Just about.” I steepled my fingers and leaned back in the swivel chair. “You know I’ve been dabbling in futures and forecasting for years. You can’t expect this kind of return often, and the original figure was just enough to piggyback on a hedge fund I follow.”
Some might consider my venture strategy risky. It wasn’t. I don’t take risks. The market had made atypical gains over the last ten months, just as I’d forecasted. We were due for a slowdown.
I pointed to the new accounts and the calculated forecast for the next four quarters. “But—see here—I transferred everything to a money market today and for the foreseeable future. Best to hold steady at three percent than take a gamble.”
Drew glared at the screen, clearly having difficulty accepting the figures, then moved his eyes to me. “Does anyone else know about this?”
“Just Jethro. But you know how he is about money.”
“Yeah, I know. It doesn’t interest him much.” Drew scratched his beard. “You’re going to arrange things so none of your siblings will have to work. You’ll be a family of means and leisure.”
“Oh, I doubt that. I think we’d turn bad if we didn’t exercise or exorcise our demons with gainful endeavors.”
Drew’s eyes, which were silver in color, flicked over me. I was being assessed.
Apropos of nothing, he said, “Talk to me about the shop.”
“What about it?”
“Well, with these numbers, I guess I have a few questions about when you plan to buy me out.”
Drew had fronted the original capital for the Winston Brothers Auto Shop, so Duane, Beau, and I could open our own business. He’d astonished me at the time; his leap of faith had been the first time anyone other than our momma had believed in us boys. Drew had since earned my utmost respect and admiration, and was the only man alive worthy of my sister.
So his question surprised me. “You want me to buy you out?”
“Not at all, it’s been a good investment in more ways than one, supporting y’all. But you don’t need the capital anymore. You could close up at thirty with this kind of inheritance coming your way, open that dulcimer and pie shop you’re always talking about.”
I considered this, because I’d always wanted to open a dulcimer and pie shop, but then rejected it. “No. I don’t have anyone to bake the pies. You know I bake crap pies. My strength is sausage and Italian food, as I’m the savory sort. Besides, what would Beau do without me to oversee things? No. Shop stays open.”
“Really?” he pressed, his eyes still assessing, “even with Duane leaving?”
“Yeah. This is what we do. We fix things. We’re tinker-ers. If we didn’t tinker with cars, we’d tinker with people.”
Drew flashed a rare grin. “You already tinker with people, Cletus.”
“You are correct,” I sat straighter in my seat, ready to defend myself, “but only my family. And y’all deserve my tinkering.”