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Amy nodded. “Family really is everything, isn't it?”
I took a sip of wine. “The other thing he taught me was that a man is only as good as his word, and a gentleman always keeps his promises. Always. That was a rule Dad lived by, and I honor him by following it as well.”
It was truly my primary rule. I was careful not to overpromise, because underdelivering on a promise was utterly unacceptable.
I pulled out my coin. “Dad gave me this to remind me. I carry it everywhere.”
She reached out, so I handed her the coin. “It’s beautiful,” she said, turning it over.
“It’s a 1918 Lincoln half-dollar minted in Illinois. They only made a hundred thousand. Dad wanted me to remember to live my life every day as Lincoln lived his.”
She handed the coin back. “That’s quite a high standard to set for yourself.”
I rubbed the familiar surface of the silver coin before pocketing it again.
“You’re a good man, Liam Quigley,” Amy said softly. “If you told your father how you felt about Roberta, wouldn't he have released you from your promise to stay and work for the company?”
I contemplated that for a moment. “I didn't, though. I'd promised my dad, and that was that. And secretly, I thought she'd change her mind, or that she'd hate the weather out here and return to California, or any one of a number of things that would have let me both have her and keep my promise to my dad.”
“But you said you did marry her, right?”
This is where the story took a turn. “Shortly after my dad died, Roberta called, and I came out to see her.” I took a deep breath. “She'd gotten sick, really sick. That's when I married her and relocated. I did all I could to help. The doctors tried, but it was too late, the cancer had progressed too far.”
Amy reached across to me. “I'm so sorry, Liam. You don't need to tell me any more.”
She didn't understand that this wasn't the end of the story, and I did have to continue.
“I felt terrible about it. I just knew that if I'd been out here with her when the symptoms first started, we would've caught it early enough. So in a way, her death is on me.”
“You don't know that, and you can't think that way. You can’t take the whole burden on yourself.”
“She hated going to the doctor,” I countered. “If I had been here, I would have made her go, and it would have made the difference.” I looked down at the table. “It's my burden to carry. I just wish I’d been here to change the outcome.”
Amy's eyes met mine when I looked up. “It’s wrong to blame yourself.”
Shame wouldn't let me hold her gaze. I looked down at the table again, considering how to put the rest of my story.
“I took it really hard,” I explained. “I started drinking, and I stopped going into work. I was in a completely self-destructive downward spiral. I didn't have anybody around but Josh at the time. He kept coming over to my place, trying to cheer me up, sober me up, get me outside. After a time, he got me back to work. That’s all you need to know for now.”
“Sounds like a really good friend,” Amy said. After a moment she spoke again. “I'm still not sure I understand why his job is on the line. You're the boss, after all.”
“It's an issue with our investors. They’ve so much as told us that if we don’t meet our projections, they’ll pull out. If they do, we lose the company. I have resources, but Josh loses everything.”
“You’re a good friend, Liam Quigley.”
A questioning look overtook her face. “One more thing, after you lost Roberta, why didn’t you go back to work in the family business?”
I took a sip of water. “When Dad died, Bill took over. I ran the east coast operations here for a bit, but that didn’t work out. So, Josh and I started Quigley-Fulton. And eventually I plan on becoming a doctor.”
“A doctor?” she asked. “Why would a titan of industry like you want to become a doctor?”
“Seeing what Roberta went through in those final days, I promised her I’d become a doctor and heal people. If I couldn’t save her, perhaps I could help some others.” I sighed. “But so far all the medical schools have a different idea. I’ve applied to seven and gotten seven rejections. To say my MCAT scores were not impressive is being kind. So, that’s likely off the table.”
Amy took the wine and poured a bit more for herself. “You can count on me, Liam. Now, we best get busy and focus on the task at hand. My favorite color is red. What about you?”
We spent the rest of dinner and more than an hour afterward trying to fill each other in on details we thought we should know before the Springbok meeting. After working through lots of minutia, I decided to delve a little deeper before our evening ended.
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” I asked. “Did you always want to make chocolate?”
