“Sounds like it. I wish you’d called me last night. I could have had one of the guys fly over and pick you up.”
“One of the guys?” They sat back down in the booth, and Patty waved at Tag from the counter.
Tag waved back. “Yeah, there’s a nice little airport on the island. I’ve actually been taking flight lessons, but I’m not certified to fly alone yet.”
Ryan had picked up a menu but set it back down. “You’re learning to fly a plane? Isn’t that a little risky for a guy your age?” It seemed risky to Ryan. Tag wasn’t old, per se. He was only fifty-nine, but that still seemed to be a little too old to be learning new things. Especially things that could crash.
His dad didn’t seem to appreciate his concern. “Uh, I’m pretty sure a guy my age can do just about anything a guy your age can do, other than read small print, and yes, I’m taking flight lessons. I wholeheartedly recommend them. The truth is, I might even buy my own plane since . . . well, since I plan to spend more time here.”
A fast glance across the pig-colored table told Ryan his dad was serious. “Spend more time here? Bryce told me you had another project you were looking into. Can this tiny island really support two jobs for the company?”
Taggert Property Management was hailed as a premier corporation in the hospitality industry, handling everything from initial construction and design of multi-unit condominiums and hotels, to remodeling, rebranding, streamlining reservation systems, and even market studies to analyze if a location was a wise investment. They didn’t typically take on projects with less than fifty units, but for some reason, his father had contracted with the owner of a modest twelve-room hotel on the shore of Trillium Bay who wanted a simple upgrade to the interiors. The job wouldn’t turn much of a profit, and neither Ryan nor his two brothers understood their father’s attachment to this particular project. They hadn’t argued with him, though. He’d been pretty glum since their mother died last year, and this job was the first one he’d seemed enthusiastic about in a very long time.
“Tell you what, son. Let’s eat first,” said his dad. “We’ve got all day to talk about business.”
And that was another thing. It wasn’t like his father to talk about anything but business. Nonetheless, Ryan found himself nodding like a bobblehead. “Yes. Food. I’m legit starving.”
“What?” Tag crooked an eyebrow.
“What?” Ryan looked up from the menu lying on the table. “Oh, nothing. That’s just teen-speak for seriously hungry. Never mind. I take it you’ve been here a few times. What’s good?”
Tag pushed the menu to the edge of the table without even reading it and picked up his coffee. “You have to try the pancake buckets. Best pancakes you’ve ever had. And they’re circles. Smartest trick ever.”
Ryan gave him the side eye. “Aren’t all pancakes circles?”
Tag laughed, and Ryan couldn’t help but think he looked ten years younger. Maybe it was the tan? Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t heard him laugh in a while.
“I mean rings, I guess. Like doughnuts. It’s a stack of pancakes with a hole in the center for you to fill up with syrup. Like a bucket. Funny, right? And brilliant?” Now his father was nodding with a what will they think of next kind of smile.
“Hmm, clever.”
They ordered pancake buckets, eggs, bacon, and hash browns because Ryan’s hunger was, as he’d said, legit. Patty kept their coffee cups full as he told his dad about the old, not remotely helpful dude at the Wawatam airport. They talked about a few random friends and family members back home in California. The food came, and as they ate, Tag seemed to dance around Ryan’s questions whenever the topic of the island projects came up, but he was determined to get to the bottom of things.
“So tell me, Dad,” Ryan said one more time, “why exactly did you need me to come out here for two months? I’ve looked at the portfolio for this job, and you could have handled it yourself while riding a unicycle blindfolded. Now you’re being evasive about this other job. I’m getting all kinds of mixed signals from Bryce, and quite frankly, we’re all feeling a little confused.”
Tag wiped his mouth with a napkin, then wadded it up to toss on his plate. “I’m not trying to be evasive, son. It’s just I have some things going on that I haven’t been ready to talk about.”
“Well, I’m here now to work, so eventually you’re going to have to give me some details, and this seems like as good of a time as any, doesn’t it? What’s this other project Bryce mentioned?”
Tag shifted in his seat and glanced around the restaurant. “There is another project I was interested in, but this isn’t the best place to discuss it. I can give you the specifics later, when we’re alone, but the bottom line is, if you like it, and I think you will, I think you should take the lead.”
“Why wouldn’t you take the lead? You’re the one who’s been here for a month already and gotten to know your way around. Shoot, according to walleye-vision Patty over there, you even have a favorite booth at this restaurant.”
Tag shifted again, and Ryan could swear his dad’s cheeks flushed red under that tan, and that made Ryan start to heat up, too. Something was off.
“I told you I’m working on some future plans of my own. Ryan, I guess there’s just no easy way to say this. I’m thinking about retiring.”
Ryan felt his jaw go slack. “Retiring? You can’t retire.”
Tag’s sudden smile was sympathetic. “Actually, I can. And I’m thinking of buying a house here, maybe moving to the island permanently.”
This time Ryan’s jaw nearly hit the pink laminate tabletop. “Move here? You can’t move here. Is this all because of the woman you met? Bryce said there was some woman.” It sounded more like an accusation than he had intended, but his dad was talking crazy, and the Taggert family didn’t waste time on hidden agendas. It was part of what made them so successful in the industry. Everyone always knew the plan and knew where they fit in, but obviously his father had been keeping some big-time secrets.
Tag glanced around again and then ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. This time the blush was obvious. He looked like a teenage boy coming home after curfew instead of the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company. He chuckled self-consciously. “Bryce is right. There is a woman. I like her. She likes me. Birds and the bees kind of stuff.”
Those pancakes stirred in Ryan’s gut, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the notion of his father having romantic feelings for some woman or the fact that he wanted to explain it with a birds and bees analogy.
“Okay. That’s okay. You’re entitled to that, I guess. I understand you wanting some female companionship, but why would you retire and move just because of some woman?” There was that tone again, but he couldn’t seem to help it.