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“How are you holding up?” Ralph asks.
I run a hand through my hair. “I'm good, actually,” I reply. “I'm doing pretty good.”
Ralph tilts his head and gives me a questioning look. “Yeah? Really?”
“I'm good, Ralph. Swear it,” I say. “How are you doing?”
He shrugs. “I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he's gone.”
Just then, the door to the office opens and Jack walks in, shutting the door quietly behind him. He's dressed impeccably, as always, in a well-tailored three-piece suit. He sits down behind his desk across from us and fixes me with a sympathetic smile.
“Morning, gentlemen. I'm really sorry about your loss, Aaron,” he says. “And I'm sorry I couldn't be at the funeral yesterday.”
“It's okay,” I tell him. “And thank you.”
“Your father was a good man,” he goes on.
“He was,” I nod.
There's a long, somewhat awkward moment of silence, with none of us really knowing what to say at that point. Finally, Jack clears his throat and opens up a file that's sitting on his desk. He shuffles through the papers for a moment, then looks up at me.
“You're sure about this?” he asks.
“One hundred percent,” I reply.
“What's going on?” Ralph asks.
I turn to Ralph and give him a small smile. “I'm selling my father's portion of the company to you. I think it will run far better in your hands.”
Ralph shakes his head. “Aaron, your father wanted you to –”
“My father wanted me to do what I thought was right,” I interrupt. “He always told me it was important to make my own decisions.”
“How is this right though?” he asks. “I mean, this is your legacy.”
“It's not, Ralph. It's my dad's legacy,” I explain. “Frontline is the legacy I'm building.”
Ralph scratches his chin. “I don't understand. I mean, I know it's not your passion, but half of the company is yours, Aaron,” he chuckles ruefully. “Realistically, all you have to do is sit back and collect your share of the profits.”
I know some people would jump at the opportunity to be able to sit back and collect multi-million dollar paychecks for doing nothing. But one of the things my father passed onto me was a strong work ethic. Simply sitting back and cashing in for doing nothing doesn't sit right with me. I'm not that kind of guy.
No, I intend to move out to California, work hard to build my name, build my company, and build my own legacy. I intend to leave my own mark on this world, rather than ride my father's coattails. And I'm certainly not going to sit around doing nothing but collecting paychecks.
Besides, as his sole heir, he's left me plenty of money – more than I can possibly spend in my lifetime. I really don't need to sit back and cash in on money I didn't earn. I don't need to hoard wealth like some dragon sitting on a massive pile of gold.
“You know me better than that, Ralph. I'm not going to sit back and take money for doing nothing.”
A wry smile touches his mouth. “No, I suppose not. You're a lot like your father in that way – always believed in working for what you get.”
“As it should be,” I say. “The company you two built is your legacy, Ralph. It's what you're going to pass on to your kids.”
His eyes shimmer with unshed tears again. I don't know what has him feeling so emotional this time, but I think he's moved by the gesture. Ralph has a couple of kids – one about to graduate from college, the other about to graduate from high school – and he needs to think about what he's going to leave behind for them. I only assume they have their eyes on taking over the company, since he's talked about them doing just that.
But, if not, and they decide to follow their own North Stars, as it were, at least then Ralph will be free to do with the company as he will and won't have to factor my opinion on the matter into his thinking.
I look over to Jack, who's remained silent during our conversation, and give him a nod. I know he's not real thrilled with the idea either – he feels that I'm essentially just giving away the company my dad worked hard to build for nothing. But it's not his decision to make. It's mine. And while I appreciate all he did for my father over the years, I'm going to do what I feel is right and in my own best interest.
The lawyer slides the folder across the desk to Ralph. He looks down at it like it's a snake, coiled and ready to strike. After a moment, he slowly picks it up. I see his hands trembling as he shuffles through the sheets of papers, his eyes scanning the words on the pages. A few seconds later, he closes the folder and looks over at me.
