“Sometimes.”
“Is everything okay?”
The question irritated her more than it should have.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You never leave early.”
“That may have been the problem.”
Silence.
Her father had spent forty years building the company.
Work was how he showed love, worry, loyalty, fear, and pride.
Claire had inherited more than his job title.
“You’re not losing interest, are you?” he asked.
Claire stared at the city through her office window.
“No.”
“But?”
“But I’m trying to figure out what I’m interested in besides this.”
Another silence.
Then her father surprised her.
“Good.”
Claire sat up.
“What?”
“I said good.”
“You spent my entire childhood telling me the company came first.”
“I spent your childhood making mistakes.”
Claire had no response.
Her father cleared his throat.
“I thought if I built something secure, you would never have to worry.”
“I know.”
“What I didn’t understand was that children can grow up worrying about the thing their parents built.”
Claire closed her eyes.
He continued.
“You don’t owe the company your whole life because I gave part of mine to it.”
Claire swallowed.
“I wish you’d told me that ten years ago.”
“I wish I’d understood it ten years ago.”
After they hung up, Claire opened her calendar.
She scrolled backward.
Years of color-coded blocks filled the screen.
Flights.
Meetings.
Strategy sessions.
Client dinners.
Quarterly reviews.
She searched BIRTHDAY.
The results made her chest hurt.
Thirty-first birthday: conference.
Thirty-second: client dinner.
