Thoreau
“You need to take your responsibility more seriously.”
I sit across from my father who is behind his massive desk, the Boston skyline his backdrop. I feel like a ten-year-old getting scolded instead of a man running a Fortune 500 company.
When he summoned me, I almost, almost told him no. But I wasn’t brave enough or maybe it’s not about courage and more about taking my role of an only child seriously.
There are times when I wonder how life would be if Tilly was still around. Would my parents be together?
Staring at my father, I know the answer. No.
They’d be living separate lives because, according to Dad, this company is the most important thing in the world. A company my great-grandfather started. We have a duty to our family. And so, it’s time to defend myself.
“I take Foster Industries very seriously,” I say, unable to keep my mouth shut. “Did you see the profit report I sent you this morning for last quarter? We’re up fifteen percent.”
I hate that I have to defend myself to him. Hate that I care what he thinks.
But I do.
And I continually give him a free pass because part of me understands why he is the way he is.
Father wasn’t always so cold. During what was the most difficult time of all our lives, he took responsibility for me when Mom couldn’t. He gave me stability, even if affection was absent.
Part of me knows if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be so hard on me.
The other part longs for a relationship where we run the company jointly… like a good father-son relationship.
A tendril of envy curls around my chest, but I shove it away. Mr. Bradford has been like a father to me too. The kind I wish mine was.
“You took a serious risk buying DATATools, Inc. We’re not shifting to computer technology, are we? I still can’t understand what you’re doing. You were lucky our shares went up after the announcement. Next time we could be down fifteen percent.” He shuffles through some papers on his desk as if he’s done with the conversation.
Done with me.
A little appreciation would be nice sometimes.
I didn’t exactly have a choice about taking over Foster Industries. I’m his only living child. Uncle Oscar doesn’t have a family. The future of the company is squarely on my shoulders.
The tendril of envy grows. Uncle Oscar is able to follow his passion because the company was Father’s birthright as the oldest. Racing is in my uncle’s blood. He loves every aspect, and he’s spent a lifetime pursuing it.
When teachers used to ask the class what they wanted to be when they grew up, I always had an answer. CEO of Foster Industries. I never got to think about being an astronaut or a policeman or president. I never had the chance to think about what I wanted.
Fortunately, I like the business. Though sometimes it feels like a hand around my throat, choking me.
Times like now.
Father is still the CEO, though I bear most of the responsibility for it. He’s the figurehead. While he’s quick to spout off his displeasure at the way I do things, he does nothing to offer solutions. Was my grandfather that way with him?
I push to my feet.
“You need to stop this racing nonsense.”
I freeze. “I’m allowed to have a hobby.”
“It’s taking up too much of your time. And if you get killed, there’s no one to take over Foster Industries. What happens to all our employees?” He takes off his glasses and narrows his gaze.
My father certainly knows how to deliver a verbal punch.
“I’m careful,” I say, but it doesn’t sound confident.
“You need to be here. Focused.” He returns to the papers in front of him, effectively dismissing me.
I close the door behind me as I leave his office. Instead of detouring to my own, I head for the elevator, desperate to get out of this building.
Before I left Winter Valley, Elisse and I had started building my next race car. She’s put a lot of time and effort into it.
And I want to do the race.
It helps me to get away from the day-to-day.
And if you get killed, there’s no one to take over Foster Industries. What happens to all our employees?
How can I argue with that logic? My father is right.
But when I’m in the car, accidents and death never cross my mind. There are too many other things to think of. And I’m safe. Always safe.
Never reckless.
The image of flying down the mountain with Elisse flashes in my mind. That was reckless.
A smile tugs up my lips.
But fun… even if she did beat me to the bottom and I had to buy her a hot chocolate. Two, actually, if I’m being technical.
I hop in my car and dial before I think better of it.
“Hello?”
Her questioning voice fills my car.
“Oh, I dialed the wrong number,” I say, grinning.
“Theo?”
My smile gets wider. Maybe I swiped her number before I left, but she doesn’t have mine.
“Hey, squirt.”
“I’m hanging up if you call me that again.”
The irritation in her tone has me clamping my lips together to keep from laughing. She’s not hanging up on me.
“How’s my car coming?”
“It would be better if you weren’t bothering me,” she huffs.
“Oh, come on, squirt. This is the best thing that’s happened to you all day.”
“Ugh. What does my brother see in you? You’re so arrogant.”
“It’s the best thing that’s happened to me all day.” As I say the words, I realize they’re true.
In seconds, she’s made me forget the hectic stress and the meeting with my father.
Silence is her response.
I check my phone to make sure we haven’t been disconnected.
“Why are you calling?” she finally whispers.
“To make sure you haven’t had too many hot chocolates today.” I lean my head against the back of the seat, content to sit in the garage instead of pulling into traffic.
“For your information, I’ve had three. But Clarissa called and her news required two back-to-back calls, so I blame her.”
I straighten. “What’s going on?”
“She landed another celebrity wedding.” Elisse sounds defeated.
I have the urge to fix it, though I don’t know how. And it’s not my place to interfere.
“She’s on a roll.” I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Tell me about it. If I won’t come to her, she’s threatening to come to Winter Valley,” she wails. “I’ll never be able to come to the shop if she does.”
“No luck finding an assistant?”
“She’s not trying. I know she isn’t. And I don’t have time.”
The carefree Elisse from our ski day is long gone. Come to think of it, the carefree Theo is too. We’re back in our realities where stress bears down until it’s choking the life out of us.
“Why do we do this?” I blurt.
“Do what?”
“Did you have fun? On our ski day?”
I tense, not sure I’m prepared for her answer.
“Yeah. So much.”
Nope. Definitely wasn’t ready for such honesty.
“Shouldn’t most of life be like that?”
“Are you okay? You sound a little weird.”
Some of my tension loosens. I can always count on her not to dance around the truth.
“My father doesn’t want me to race. He says I could be killed and could displace all our employees.” Just saying it out loud puts the weight squarely on my shoulders.
“He’s not wrong…” she says carefully. “But you aren’t the only person capable of running a Fortune 500 company. In fact, aren’t there five hundred of those?”
I laugh at a time I wouldn’t have thought it possible. “Yeah. There are.”
“I’m sure one of them would love to take your place. If you’re at two hundred, anyone below that would fight for it to move up.”
Her logic is crazy but somehow makes sense.
“We’re one hundred twenty-two.”
“Oh, excuse me,” she says haughtily. “Then you die and one twenty-three will interview for the job. Problem solved.”
“Maybe you should interview for it.”
“Maybe I will.”
I can imagine the lift of her chin, stubborn and ready to face any challenge. If I could see it in person, feel her hand in mine, maybe some of this stress would disappear.
But leaving Boston now, with my father in a mood like this, isn’t a good idea.
“Do you want me to put out some feelers at the headhunting agency I’ve used? See if they can find Clarissa an assistant?” Somehow it seems like Elisse’s problem is easier to fix than mine. Or maybe I just want to solve hers.
She sighs. “Maybe I should look for another mechanic. I… I don’t know what to do.”
Now I can picture the droop of her shoulders and her messy ponytail. I don’t like hearing her so upset.
“What do you want?”
“I have an obligation to Clarissa and Morgan—”
“I didn’t ask what they want. What do you want?”
“To run the shop.” Her answer is without hesitation.
“I didn’t hear you say build Theo a race car.” I feel my face loosening again.
“That’s part of the shop business, isn’t it?” she asks, crisply.
“Definitely.” I put the car in gear. “Let me find you an assistant.”
“I’ll think about it. Don’t do anything yet.” Something clatters in the background, like she’s dropped a tool in her toolbox. “What about your dad?”
I sigh. “He’ll cool off in a few days.” Hopefully.
“You’re telling me not to let my family dictate my life. You should take your own advice.”
I laugh bitterly as I pull out into the street. “Easier said than done, squirt. Easier said than done.”