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“I’ll tell you this, kiddo,” Dad says, looking at Emma. “If your job at the gallery doesn’t work out, you can always start up a business as a painter.” Emma laughs. “And from the bottom of our hearts, Martha and I are truly grateful for all the work you’ve done here.”
“Well, I didn’t do it all by myself,” Emma protests. “Finn did just as much of the work.”
“Yes,” Dad says with a smirk, “but he’s our son. It’s not the same.”
“Charming,” I reply, returning my dad’s wry smile.
He crosses the room and hugs me. “You know I love you, kiddo. Talking of which, I was thinking we can have a little father and son time in the newly decorated Den. I’ve even got some of that homemade beer left in the garage.”
“That sounds like a date,” I reply.
Dad and I settle into the Den an hour or so later.
“I’m sorry I haven’t made the time to get to speak to you properly yet, Finn,” Dad begins.
“Dad, you’ve got a lot on. Don’t worry about it. Besides, there’s not much more I can tell you that you don’t already know.”
“I know that, but you didn’t come back here for no reason. Something is weighing on your mind.”
“You mean, aside from the fact my empire is crumbling beneath my feet, I’m the talk of Washington, and my divorce is being discussed on every slimy gossip website in America,” I say. Then I shrug, and keeping with my sarcasm, continue. “Nah. Not much on my mind at all, really.”
Dad’s eyes have widened with worry. “Is the business suffering badly?”
I shake my head. “I’m being dramatic. There’s a drop in shares, but nothing we can’t handle or haven’t seen before. Don’t worry about it.I’m more concerned with getting that woman’s claws out of my wallet.”
“So, what’s taking so long?”
“Well, Miranda keeps changing the deal. That’s what’s taking so long. Just when Gary thinks he has the divorce neatly packaged up with a pretty bow, her lawyers come back with her wanting something else. The last time Gary called, he said she now wants half of the penthouse, or the equivalent of its value. To be honest, Dad, I’m that damn tired, I’m seriously thinking of just giving in to her demands.”
Dad doesn’t speak for a long moment. He’s looking contemplative, which I know, for a start, means he does not agree with me. I also know that I’m about to hear some pearls of wisdom. Likely a parable or a life lesson of some sort. Not that I mind. Dad’s parables and life stories are what got me to where I am in the first place. Like I said, he’s a very smart guy.
“Your grandfather was a very clever man, you know,” Dad begins. “He taught me the benefit of being a hard worker, and the fact that any decent employer would appreciate such effort. But when I started working at the garage we now own, Mr. Phelps owned it. I was only fourteen years old, but I kept my father’s words at the forefront of my mind. Working long and hard hours, I went above and beyond for that man.”
“One would think, given my strong work ethic, that he might have shown appreciation every now and again. Instead, I discovered the opposite. The more work I did, the more Mr. Phelps would give me to do, and with not a word of thanks. I suffered this for about six months, and then, tired, downtrodden, and feeling pretty darned unappreciated, I spoke to your grandfather about it. Do you know what he said?”
I shake my head.
“He told me to quit.”
My eyes widen at that remark.
“Yes,” Dad nods, “that’s exactly how I felt when he said it. It made no sense. My father had always told me to work hard and do my best. But after me doing that, he was now telling me to quit. And then he said to me. ‘Danny, never stay where you’re not appreciated. Never work for a man who doesn’t know your worth.’ He then went on to say something I’ve always remembered. He said, ‘Know your worth. A man like Phelps will never appreciate you, no matter how much blood you give him. You give him a mile, he’ll ask for two. Know your worth.’ I’ve lived my life by that code ever since.”
“You have to know your worth, Finn. No matter what you give this woman, she’ll come back for more. You don’t deserve to be so underappreciated. She’s taken enough from you. And I don’t mean the money.”
“I know,” I say intentionally.
“I don’t know what your lawyer is telling you to do—”
“He’s telling me I’m crazy if I give in to her.”
“Then he’s a good lawyer. Listen to him. This woman deserves no more from you. Draw a line in the sand and hold your ground. It doesn’t matter what she tells people about you. It doesn’t matter if your empire does crumble. You have the backbone to build it again from scratch. Not to mention, the brains.” Dad taps his temple.
“I don’t think it will come to that,” I reply.
“Me neither, but you have to be willing to lose everything to maintain your own integrity. I quit my job. For a fourteen-year-old, that was everything. I was using the money I earned to save up for…” he pauses, and tries to think of what it was. “Oh, I don’t know now.” He shakes his head. “It’s too many years ago. I know I had doubts about my father’s advice. But I did it. I quit. I suffered, in the teenage sense of the word, for a few weeks. But then, what do you know? I was working again for a farmer three weeks later. Mr. Thomas, in complete contrast to Mr. Phelps, couldn’t praise me enough.”
I thought about what dad was saying, and knew it made complete sense. Strangely, though, the only thing that entered my head was the fact that Dad now owned the garage that once belonged to Mr. Phelps. One might conclude that it was some sort of revenge. But that’s not Dad’s style. I know it was going for a steal because he’s told me the story many times. There were outside developers looking at it, and to save the town from having some mini-mart chain being developed, he bought it. He’s never looked back.
Maybe it’s time I stopped looking back, too. As the old saying goes, you can’t plow a straight line ahead if you’re looking behind you.
