Midas Touch by Alex Hall

Author:Alex Hall [Hall, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Madison Place Press LLC
Published: 2020-11-08T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

The old man lay dying. Gwen sat cross-legged on shag carpet, listening to the wheeze and hitch of labored lungs. Outside, the last of the summer thunderstorms tossed gouts of wind and fistfuls of hail across the trees. The house shook, but even the howl of the wind couldn’t drown out Edward’s groans.

“Daughter,” the old man rasped in the space between one breath and the next, “bring me my bottle.” He lifted one feeble hand from his dirty blankets as though he could summon the drink to his side. The bottle in question lay overturned only a few inches from Edward’s mattress. A thin stream of whiskey ran onto the carpet. Gwen could smell the tang of alcohol even from across the room.

“My whiskey, girl. I need a drink.” Edward coughed.

Gwen didn’t move from her space on the floor. She thought she should feel something in her father’s last moments—sorrow, relief, regret, jubilation, anything. Alcohol fumes stung her eyes, and the rattle of the storm made her heart pound but other than that . . . nothing.

Nothing.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” she told the man who had never deserved the title “Father.” “Just fucking die already.”

“One last drink,” Edward pleaded. His yellowed eyes rolled in desperation. “I’m not ready. I’m not ready!”

The buzz of her phone sent Gwen spinning from dream to groggy wakefulness. She sat bolt upright, gasping, and had just enough sense to realize she’d overslept and it was full daylight streaming through the basement window before she reached across the mattress, grabbing her mobile.

“What is it?” she snapped.

“Gwen?”

“Mike.” She should have known. Rolling off the mattress, Gwen carried the phone across the room to the window. Beyond the glass the afternoon was bright—not a cloud in the sky. She repeated, “What is it?”

“Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“Still in Virginia, Mike. Flight out’s not until next week. You have my itinerary.”

The dream had left a monster of a headache behind Gwen’s eyes. She rarely slept so deeply. She hadn’t dreamed of Edward since her first night back in the house. Mike rumbled on. Gwen closed her eyes, trying to concentrate.

“Fine,” she said when the man paused to take a breath. “That’s not a problem. It’s an easy fix. We’ll draw up a few papers, make sure there are no loopholes. I’ll email you something before five.”

“You’ve been away too long,” her agent said, falling somewhere between mournful and stern. “Your personal touch is needed here. It’s not the same without you at the table. Your shareholders are worried.”

“I’ve been in touch with all of them.” Gwen rubbed her eyes. She could still smell the ghost of old whiskey.

“So have I, more than once, and they’re not happy. You’re needed back here, Gwen.”

“Soon, Mike. They can wait a few more days.” She hung up before her assistant could list further concerns. The man was a blessing—Mike knew Pinnacle almost as well as Gwen did—but the man could be a mother hen, and Gwen didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with his anxieties on top of her own.

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