“Happy New Year, Max.”
Chapter Seven
When he got back to Riems, Max invited Sebastien to the cottage for lunch.
“What’s wrong?” Seb said after they tucked into slices of tomato-leek galette.
“Why does something have to be wrong?”
“You’ve never invited me here for a meal before. So either there’s something wrong or you want something from me. And usually when you want something from me, you text. I’m left to conclude that something is wrong.”
Well, that stung. But Max could not deny any of it. He hadn’t intended it, but that hardly mattered. He studied his brother. They had been close as children, conspiring to run wild on the mountain any time they could escape the schoolroom—and Father. It had been easier to dodge Father in the early years. Father ascribed to the philosophy that children should be neither seen nor heard, so apart from dinner every evening, the boys had rarely crossed paths with him. When they weren’t doing lessons, they’d been free to play “two-man up-mountain footie,” which football-crazed Max had invented, and the pretend games Seb preferred without parental interference.
It wasn’t until they got a little older that Father started taking an interest. And by “taking an interest,” Max meant destroying toys of Seb’s he deemed too feminine. Or seizing an apple strudel Seb had helped the cook make and hurling it against the wall in the dining room.
And then Max had refused to go to boarding school. What a row that had been. In addition to guaranteeing his presence at home, that blowout had taught him the efficacy of diversionary tactics. Being a bigger disappointment than Seb was a surprisingly effective strategy for drawing his father’s attention—and anger.
But somehow, that early closeness between the boys, that sense of being allies, had faded away. Max studied his brother, really looked at him, for the first time in a while. Sebastien still had the close-cropped hair and too-big nose of his youth, but gone was the easy smile that used to be his signature.
“You’re right,” Max said, needing to clear his throat. “I don’t treat you well.” It was an uncomfortable thing to admit, to confront within himself, especially given that the first ten years of Seb’s life, everything Max had done had been in service of Seb. It was just so frustrating that after all Max had done to get Seb out, Seb boomeranged right back. Still, they were brothers. “I’m sorry. It has to stop. It’s going to stop.” Max continued to study Seb, who had the same blue eyes as Max—except Seb’s had gone wide with shock. “I did ask you here because I wanted something from you. I’d like your advice if you’re willing to give it.”
Max wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Seb’s eyes grew even wider.
“I want to get a job, but I have no idea how to do that.”
Seb switched to blinking rapidly, and Max chuckled. “I hoped you’d give me your thoughts, seeing as you’re the gainfully employed brother.”
“Well . . . ,” Sebastien started slowly. “I’m certain we can find you something to do at Aquilla. It’s Father’s fondest wish that you join the company.”
Max’s jaw tightened. Here he’d thought they were having a moment. But no. Seb was still Father’s lapdog. If Max had been the type to allow himself to be disappointed by people, he would have felt sadness over the fact that the boy who’d suggested they try to combine their favorite childhood games and play “footie up the mountain” and then pretend to be wizards at the top had come home from university and fallen right into line, asking only “how high” when Father commanded he jump.
But Max wasn’t that type. You start letting people disappoint you, and you’re never not disappointed. “What everyone fails to understand is I don’t want to work in the mining company.” He heard but could not seem to excise the condescension in his voice.
“I don’t want to work in the mining company either, Max,” Seb snapped.
What? That was the last thing Max expected his brother to say.
“But someone has to do it,” Seb added, and his little-brother martyrdom irritated the hell out of Max.
“I don’t want any part of it,” Max said, and he didn’t care if he sounded self-righteous. “It’s a terrible industry.”
Seb looked at him for an uncomfortably long moment before saying, in a much quieter tone, “The way I see it, if I don’t do it, Father will get someone else to. If I’m doing it, at least I can try to limit the environmental damage and fight for better conditions for our employees. Did you know that last year we were set to begin winding down the Rudna mine and laying off five hundred people? Did you know that I talked the board into delaying the closing for two years and committing a pile of money to a retraining fund? Do you think any of that would have happened if I hadn’t pushed for it?”
Max didn’t even know where the “Rudna mine” was or what was extracted there. “I had no idea. How did you get Father to agree to that?”
“Well, I got Elias on my side, so that helped.” Elias was Aquilla’s CEO. “I made a presentation showing that we could employ a percentage of the retrained employees in a call center I was proposing we build,” Seb said, “and that since they already knew the company there would be less turnover.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?” Max also had no idea why a mining company needed a call center, but that wasn’t his primary concern at the moment.
“You didn’t have any idea because you don’t pay attention,” Seb said. “You cover your ears like a child when you’re confronted with something unpleasant.”
Not a flattering assessment.
“And when you do pay attention for long enough to absorb something, it’s all black and white.” Seb’s voice was getting louder. “Mining is bad. Well, yes. But the world needs quartz, for example. What would you do without your precious iPhone? Also, we employ a great many people. Do you know how many?”
Max did not know.
“Nine thousand and change,” Seb said, not waiting for Max to answer. “And forty-seven percent of them are in areas where the mine is the major, or only, employer. We’re it. We close, and what will happen then?”
Another rhetorical question that made Max ashamed he didn’t know how to answer.
Seb sighed, and his tone gentled. “All I’m trying to do is make our impact—on the planet, on the communities we operate in—less bad.”
Max did not know what to say. After several uncomfortably long moments of silence, he went with the truth. “I’m sorry I never knew all this.” He thought of Dani calling him “relentlessly honest.” He was proud that someone like her saw him that way. He was not a person who refused to see the truth when it was in front of him, who declined to take responsibility for that truth. No, that was Father.
“It’s all right,” Seb said, and suddenly Max wondered if Seb’s perpetual agreeableness wasn’t about agreeing so much as it was about self-preservation. One way to not be hurt by people was to make yourself immune to their opinions, as Max had done. But perhaps another way was to simply agree with them?