Chapter 85: The Call

Chapter 85: Chapter 85: The Call

Garrett stared at his father’s contact for longer than the call itself probably justified before finally pressing it. He’d already decided he was going to call.

The phone rang twice. Then connected.

Neither of them said anything. Garrett waited. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. The silence kept stretching until it became long enough to feel deliberate. He glanced at the screen to make sure the call hadn’t somehow dropped. It hadn’t. His father’s name was still there. He brought the phone back to his ear.

Almost a full minute passed before Garrett finally broke it.

"Hello," he said. "Good evening, sir."

A short pause came from the other end. "Garrett." Erling sounded mildly caught off guard. "How are you?"

"I’m fine."

"How’s school?"

"School’s fine."

Another silence settled in, heavier than the first. Garrett leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. His father hadn’t changed much. Even over the phone, he still had that habit of asking questions in the same order. How are you. How’s school. Nothing personal. Just the basics.

"You called me," Erling said eventually, like he was still working out why.

"Yeah." Garrett looked toward the file on the coffee table. "There’s some things I wanted to ask you."

"Okay."

Erling waited. Garrett didn’t immediately continue. The problem was that he’d spent most of the last hour thinking about what he wanted to ask, and now that his father was actually on the phone, none of the questions felt particularly easy to start with. So he reached for something else.

"How’s work?"

"Work’s fine." A beat. "Why do you ask?"

"Just asking."

"Everything’s fine, Garrett."

"Okay."

Garrett nodded despite the fact that his father couldn’t see him. He didn’t really know why he’d asked. He’d simply felt that asking was the normal thing to do.

"Everything alright at home?" Garrett asked, mostly to keep the conversation from stalling out entirely.

"Why do you sound concerned?"

"I’m not, really." Garrett rubbed his thumb along the edge of his phone. "Just realized I hadn’t checked in for a while."

"You don’t usually call unless there’s a reason."

Garrett didn’t argue with that. It was accurate enough. "Do I need one?"

"No," Erling said. "You don’t."

Garrett looked down at the floor. "Then why does it always feel weird when we talk?"

His father went quiet. This silence was different, more thoughtful.

"Neither of us is particularly good at keeping in touch," Erling said eventually. "I don’t think that’s a secret."

"No." Garrett let out a quiet breath. "Why don’t you ever call me, then?"

"I should." A pause. "Probably."

Erling said it plainly, without defensiveness. There was no attempt to justify it, no excuse about being busy. Just an admission.

Garrett stared at the wall opposite him. He’d expected his father to argue. Somehow, that would have been easier.

"I could call too," Garrett said.

"You could."

"That’s not the point."

"I know."

The answer caught him slightly off guard. Garrett went quiet, unsure where the conversation was supposed to go from there. He hadn’t called to have this discussion, at least he hadn’t thought he had. He wasn’t looking for an apology, and he doubted one was coming even if he asked for it directly. Still, there was something strange about hearing his father acknowledge the distance instead of pretending it wasn’t there.

"You know," Erling said, "I sometimes think you don’t call because you don’t want to bother me."

Garrett frowned. "That’s not it."

"Then what is it?"

Garrett thought about that. He could have given a dozen answers. School. Life. Money. The fact that he’d gotten used to handling things himself. None of them sounded right when he tried to put them together.

"I don’t know," he admitted.

His father didn’t immediately respond. Garrett continued before the silence could grow again. "Maybe because we don’t really talk."

"We don’t."

"Exactly."

Another pause. Then Erling said, "I should’ve made more effort."

Garrett’s eyes lowered. "Yeah."

It was probably the closest thing to an apology he was going to get. For now, it was enough.

The conversation eased slightly after that. Not warmer exactly. But less strained.

Garrett shifted on the couch and looked at the file again.

"There’s actually something I wanted to ask you about."

"What is it?"

He hesitated, choosing the wording carefully. "If you had £150,000, what would you invest it in?"

The pause that followed was immediate. And pointed.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Just curious."

"You don’t call me out of nowhere to ask what someone should do with £150,000, Garrett."

Garrett almost smiled. His father had noticed immediately. "I figured you’d ask."

"Then you knew I would."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Garrett leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. He’d already prepared the explanation before making the call. "It’s not for me. Got a friend who came into some money. She wanted advice, and I figured you’d actually know something useful, given you ran a business for a while."

"What do you mean, I was successful?"

The question came sharp, faster than Garrett expected. He blinked. He hadn’t meant it as a jab. But there was clearly a nerve sitting closer to the surface than he’d accounted for.

"That’s not what I meant." He paused. "Just meant you had actual experience with it."

Erling was quiet for a moment. Then his voice settled again. "There’s a few directions someone could go with that kind of money."

Garrett listened.

"It depends on what she’s actually looking for. Something safe and slow, or something with more upside and more risk attached to it."

"She hasn’t said, exactly."

"Then I’d start with the basics." Garrett picked up the phone properly, his attention sharpening. "Property’s usually the safest entry point for someone who doesn’t know the market yet. Doesn’t grow fast, but it’s stable, and it’s something tangible if things go wrong elsewhere."

"Okay."

"Though £150,000 isn’t necessarily enough to just buy something expensive and sit on it. Depends on where she is, what the property costs, whether she’s looking for rental income or appreciation, and how much capital she wants left over."

Garrett glanced toward the coffee table. "Right."

"That’s the mistake people make when they suddenly get money. They see the amount and start thinking about what they can buy instead of what the money can actually do for them."

Garrett stayed quiet. That sounded useful.

"Beyond that, it depends on her risk tolerance. Small business investment can pay off well if she’s willing to actually get involved, not just hand money over and hope for the best."

"Would you recommend that?"

"Not blindly." Erling’s answer came immediately. "If she doesn’t understand the business, she shouldn’t put £150,000 into it just because someone promises her a return. That’s how people lose money."

Garrett nodded slowly. "What about stocks?"

"Stocks are simpler on paper, but she still needs to understand what she’s buying instead of guessing."

"So don’t just throw it into something because everyone else is doing it."

"Exactly."

Garrett shifted back into the couch.