Wasn’t he in fact a different man than he’d been just a month ago? A night ago?

Strange that in Eden he felt both free and constricted.

His father was dead and he could finally be his true self in his hometown. But in doing so, he’d endured his own sacrifices. He’d taken over the role that should have belonged to his father all these years. The Singletons had every right to a part of Harte Industries, even if the Hartes disagreed.

“Aldous, it’s a beautiful office. I love it.”

“I thought you might,” he said. “Oh, and just so you know, the sofa pulls out, you know, in case you need to complete some transaction in your own unique style.”

Chad gave his uncle a withering look. “You get a two-for-one special?”

Aldous laughed. “Touché, my boy. Oh, I do think I’m going to enjoy having you around, Chad. Gus was not blessed with such wit. But don’t be so touchy. You’ve got a lot to prove here. Just because you carry the Singleton name doesn’t grant you any free passes.”

“So noted,” Chad added. “Still, Uncle Aldous, you surprise me.”

“Why? Because I didn’t make any secret of my not wanting you to join the company’s day-to-day operations? Because I don’t think you have any real understanding of what we do so how could you possibly succeed in such an environment? Because I fully expect you to not live up to your part of the bargain?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes.”

“I have my doubts, of course, what CEO wouldn’t? But, Chad, as long as you’re here and representing our good name, then you should have an office that befits the high-end clients you say you have access to. So I say go about your business. Don’t be afraid to consult with me and don’t pay any mind to Gus. He does not do well with change or with interlopers.”

Ah, there it was, Chad thought. The slight threat beneath the pleasant veneer.

Pointing out that Chad Singleton did not belong at Harte Industries. He was their blood but that didn’t mean he shared what truly bonded the family -- wealth, money and power. In an enclave such as Eden, the rich ruled. Everyone else just fell in line. Perhaps Chad could alter that perspective. Did the residents of Eden buy Harte products or were they purely export materials?

“So I guess I should get to work,” Chad said.

“Indeed. I look forward to updates on how you spend your time.”

“I’ll give you weekly reports.”

Aldous put a hand to Chad’s shoulder and smiled. “For the first week, make them daily.”

And with that he waddled out of the office, closing the door behind him. Despite the view from his office windows, Chad felt as if the world had just closed in on him. He spun around and absorbed his office once again, almost as if he was taking a mental picture because it wouldn’t be his for long. He had a month to secure a one-hundred-thousand-dollar account. Only then could he prove to the Hartes his long-term viability.

He had to do this as much for himself as for his grandmother. For too long the Singleton family had been excluded from what should have been a joint enterprise, just as it was envisioned decades ago, and it was time to change all that.

It was warm inside the office. He slipped off his blazer, hung it behind the door. Then he rolled up his sleeves as he sat behind his desk for the first time. He flipped on the computer, fired up his new Harte Industries email account and looked at the blank in-box. He stared at the blinking icon, almost as if it was taunting him, wondering who the first person he would contact would be. He drew a blank. What he thought was how faceless business had become -- hiding behind electronic messages, unable to pick up the phone to conclude a deal. Which suddenly got him thinking.

His cell phone was on his desk, silent. An urge to reach out hit him and he picked up the phone, unlocked it and stared at his history of text messages for ideas. It was mix of his past and present -- from his last client, Danny Gregory, to his cousin Gigi Harte, and from last night, Brett Ellers. He thought of the sexy cop, of the night they had shared before it had all unraveled. Chad had to wonder whether he was being too judgmental over Brett and his anonymous sexual conquests. What ate at him? Was it that the sex was so impersonal? Or that his rendezvous had taken place at the carriage house?

Should he call him or text him? He’d prefer to hear his voice, even to see him.

Except what would he say?

Fuck me, take me, I’m sorry ...

Chad grew dizzy at the thought, grabbed for his coffee and took a sip, thinking caffeine would have to be a substitute for the hunger that consumed him. Staring out the large bank of windows, he could see the village of Eden spread out before him, the streets of downtown giving way to the picturesque, verdant countryside and a bright, cerulean sky. If not for the moving cars and lightly wafting leaves in the breeze, he might have been staring at a painting, a lone artist’s view of nature’s bounty. In contrast to such serenity, Eden was a vital, vibrant community, filled with people who liked to keep secrets.

Brett was among them.

Chad ignored the phone, knowing he and Brett had nothing to say to each other. Instead, he put his energy into the future of the Singletons. It was good to have a distraction.