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“Ryder, I’m so very sorry,” he said, taking a seat across from me. “We’re all so devastated.”
“Thank you.”
“I wanted to let you know we’re here to support you. I know you’re probably not ready to think about the next step at McNamara Studios, but it’s something we need to decide very soon, and I wanted to offer my help.”
“What kind of help?” I asked.
Can you let me bury my father before we discuss this?
“Well, did your father ever explain to you what would happen with the studio in the event of his death?”
“We never went into it in too much detail, because this wasn’t something we expected. My father was too young to die. But I know he left me with enough voting rights that I can basically vote myself into his job.”
“That’s right. Technically, you could, but that’s not what I would recommend, given your lack of experience for the position. I know your father’s intention was that you would run the studio someday, but I think you would agree, he was counting on several more years to groom you.”
“Yes. I know that.”
“Anyway, I know it’s not the best time to discuss this right now. So I’d like to propose we set up a meeting next week.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll give you some privacy. You take care of yourself, Ryder. Let Laura and me know if there’s anything we can do.”
Leave. That’s what you can do. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Now go.
Thankfully, he did. I couldn’t deal with thinking about the state of the company on top of everything else right now. I knew what was going to happen: Sam would round up a bunch of his cronies, and they would work to convince me to make the decision that was in their best interests. They would try to get me to appoint one of them to my father’s position.
Once my head cleared, I would need to decide what Dad would have wanted. That wasn’t going to happen in a week, no matter how impatient they were. In all of the preparation my father had done with me, we’d never once discussed what would happen if he died prematurely. No one had expected him to drop dead at the age of fifty-eight. Certainly not me.***The house emptied out, and I found myself alone with my thoughts for the first time in a while. There were a couple of hours until the wake tonight. Then tomorrow would be the funeral and burial.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around everything. Looking up, I spoke to my dad, wherever he was.
“I can’t believe you’re gone. If you thought I was in any way ready to survive without you in this world, you thought wrong. I might have put up a tough front and resisted a lot of what you had to say, but man, I’m not ready for this.” I shook my fists toward the ceiling. “You need to help me figure it out from wherever you are. Because I don’t know how to live without you.”
I quietly pleaded with my father for guidance before opening a box of items that had been brought over from his house.
Sifting through some of the old photos Dad’s housekeeper had found, I came across one of my parents and me when I was about seven years old. It was taken on the day of my First Communion. Sundays were always the one day my father took off from work. We would go to church and have family time. I hadn’t a care in the world back then, never imagining life without both of my parents before I’d even reached thirty.
I looked down at my phone, which I hadn’t bothered with in hours. Eden had sent several texts this morning to check on me. I quickly wrote back that I was okay and getting ready for tonight but that I would call her after the wake. It was hard for me to talk to anyone right now—even Eden.
There was a knock at the door. I guess my reprieve from visitors was short-lived. I really needed to shower and get ready for the wake, so I hoped whomever it was didn’t plan on staying long.
When I opened the door, I found the last person I’d expected to see. She looked as heartbroken as I was.
“Mallory.”
She started to tear up. “How come you didn’t call me?”
Does she even have to ask? “Given that we’re not together anymore, it didn’t make sense to call you.”
“You and your dad are like family to me—always will be, no matter what happens between us. I’m so sorry, Ryder. So sorry.” She took a few steps closer. “Can I come in?”
I didn’t realize I hadn’t budged from the doorway. “Sure.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she showed up. As much as we’d been through, she knew my dad well and truly understood what this loss meant to me. Dad was always very fond of her and had been disappointed when we broke up. He looked at her like a daughter. Given that Mallory had daddy issues—her father had taken off on her and her mother when she was young—she’d always respected my father for being loyal to his family.
