Chapter 21 #2
Malcolm clasps his hands on the desktop. “Frankie and Archie…you’re my legacy. And whatever you think about me, Piper, I reckon you’re family again now that you're engaged to Archie.”
He stares at her. She squirms in her chair. All of us are still getting used to the idea of Piper being Archie’s wife instead of stepsister—and nemesis, in Archie’s case.
Malcolm shifts papers on his desk and clears his throat.
“I’d hoped to have more time to put my affairs in order, but my doctors haven’t seen the progress they’d hoped to with the chemo.
My white blood cell count is still too high,” he reports with less emotion than if he were giving us a stock report.
“Sybil said odds are around fifteen percent. That’s still something,” Archie says, a bit desperately.
“Not even Sybil knows the full scale of this cancer.” Malcolm’s scoff turns into another cough, though not as jarring as his last.
“So, you’re actually dying?” I ask once he’s stopped.
He lets out a short laugh. “You could pretend to be a little more upset about that, daughter dear. But yes. That seems to be the case. I have one more round of chemo. But unless some miracle happens, it’ll be my last.”
I look at Archie, who’s blinking hard, working to process this news. Then I realize my eyes are wet, and I don’t know if my tears are out of sadness or pity or anger. Likely all of them.
“Why did you keep this a secret for so long?” I ask.
He cocks his head, and I wonder if he’s as surprised by the question as I am. “How exactly was I supposed to do that, Francesca? I’m not the only one who’s kept secrets.”
I don’t know if he’s expecting me to feel some regret, even some shame over not telling him I was marrying Brandon until it was done.
Or not telling him my new husband planned to expose Malcolm’s lies—not just about the eco resort, but about all of his businesses.
Not telling him when I left Brandon, or when I left L.A.
, or where I’ve been for the past three years.
My list of secrets may be long, but he’s got a list just as long—if not longer—that goes way back before this cancer.
Then his face softens—or at least softens as much as the cancer will allow. He’s lost enough weight that his once striking cheekbones are now sharp angles that leave the rest of his face hollow.
“I’m not here to argue. I’m here to repair.
” He looks at us with piercing blue eyes.
“Everything I’ve built was to secure the Forsythe future.
To secure your future. Because of me, you’ll have enough wealth to live in luxury, no matter what happens.
Your children and your children’s children and their children will enjoy the same wealth you have, and the Forsythe name will go down in history. ”
I lift my eyebrows. After three years of scraping by because Dad cut me off when I didn’t do what he wanted, I'm more than intrigued by the idea of being wealthy again, but I brace myself for the strings that will be attached. Because there are always strings.
Then Archie sits taller. “Dad, we never asked you for any of that. Money was never what we wanted or needed most from you.”
I stare at my brother who’s always had a harder time standing up to our dad than I have. I barely hold back my good on ya’.
Malcolm’s eyes narrow. “If you’re talking about love, son, then you’re not recognizing that’s what this is.
Everything I’ve done—everything I’ve built—has been out of love.
All I asked for in return was that you be part of what I’ve built.
That you show some respect for my work. Instead, I got shut out of your lives. ”
His face is stone and his voice is just as cold and hard. What I’ve long suspected about him suddenly becomes clear. He’s afraid of getting hurt, too. The walls I put up to protect myself, my need to run away from pain, my instinct to hide…I reckon I learned all that from Malcolm.
“We’ve always respected you,” I say slowly. “Wanting to live our own lives was never about disrespect; it was about being our own people, making our own choices.”
Malcolm answers by listing all the ways I’ve fallen short when I’ve made my own choices. How I humiliated him by running off with a nobody like Brandon when he had a match for me; someone I could have been happy with if I’d kept dating him instead of sneaking off with a lousy reporter.
I only half listen. I’m too in my head, piecing together bits of Malcolm I’ve never seen before. They’ve always been there, I was just blind to them.
“All of that would have been disrespectful enough, but then you used your husband to extort money from me,” he finishes with more emotion than I’ve ever heard from him before.
“What?” I look from the fury on Malcolm’s face to Archie, but all I find there is confusion.
“The millions you asked for to not publish anything else about me. As if you didn’t have access to billions as my daughter.” Spittle flies from Malcolm’s mouth, and he uses a handkerchief to wipe it away.
“Dad…you’ve got it all wrong. I had no idea Brandon had asked you for money. When I found out, I left him. I’d never be part of extorting money from you,” I speak slowly, watching the fury drain from Malcolm’s face.
“That’s not what he said. You told him everything about me and would keep talking until I gave you the money that was rightfully yours.” His voice is hard, but without anger.
I shake my head. “He lied. I told him the truth about Rancho Mirage and corroborated facts he had about you, but I did it to stop you, not for money. And I asked him not to publish anything until I’d talked to you first. I hoped we could work things out.
” I draw my eyes to Malcolm’s and see a softening there.
“Brandon published before I could talk to you, and everything fell apart.”
Malcolm blinks, then wipes his mouth again. “I only gave back what I thought you’d given me.”
There’s no apology in his words, but I hear it in his voice. Something else clicks into place with them. After so many years of conflict, I finally understand him.
Everything for Malcolm—business, family, love—it’s all transactional.
Nothing is given freely. Whatever he invests in, he expects a greater return on his investment.
He evaluates every relationship the same way he does a business or stock.
What is its ROI? It’s not enough to get back what he puts in. He wants more.
And I feel sorry for him. What a terrible way to live.
Love is nothing like money. There’s no hard data to determine whether loving someone will pay off the way you hope it will. You have to trust that the more love you give, the more you get back.
Loving someone also means getting hurt.
Malcolm’s taught me that lesson better than anyone.
And he’ll keep teaching me that lesson unless I decide to love him, no matter the outcome. If I’m going to have any relationship with him, it will have to be one that’s transactional. At least on his part.
Because the truth is, cutting him out of my life didn’t work. I wasn’t happier because of it. I gave up acting, something I loved. I left behind Archie, Rhys, and Dex, the people I loved most. And in getting me back here, into his life, I’ve had to leave behind people I was just starting to love.
The thing Jo said at the picnic my first night at the Holloways comes back to me. No family is perfect. Love your people where they are.
I think I understand what she meant.
“Malcolm…Dad,” I say carefully. “Do you want us to be part of your life again?”
Malcolm will always find a way to keep control, as long as he thinks he doesn’t have it. So, I have two choices right now—neither good.
I can leave.
Or I can stay.
But I think I need to love Malcolm as much for my own good as for his.
“I want you to step into the role of my heirs. If I die, I want to know that my legacy won’t die with me. My name will live on through my children and the businesses I’ve built from the ground up. I want you to be…” His voice rises until his speech is cut short by his own hacking.
I feel Archie’s and Piper’s eyes on me as I pour another glass of water for Malcolm, then rest my hand on his back.
His body shakes under the shirt that was once fitted but now hangs loosely on him.
Not so loose, though, to hide the outline of his shoulder blades rising like mountains bracketing a deep valley.
When he’s finished coughing, I hand him the water with one hand while rubbing his back with the other.
“Cheers,” he says in a hoarse whisper.
When he sets down the glass, I squat next to his chair, so we’re eye level. Almost. I’m a bit lower, so he has to look down to meet my eyes.
“You want respect and gratitude. You have that from me. What you’ve built with Forsythe Tech and everything else—I’m proud of you, Dad.” The words don’t come easy, and I don’t know yet if they’re true, but I want them to be.
They’re words I reckon he wanted to hear from his own father and never did.
My grandfather was an even harder man than Malcolm.
I’m not proud of his drive to build his fortune over everything else, and I can’t excuse him for almost putting the Holloways and others out of business, but I can show him a kind of unconditional love neither of us has experienced.
But I saw it at the Holloways, and I want it for myself.
“And I wish I could tell you that your legacy will live on forever, but I can’t make that kind of promise.” I sink to my knees and lay my hand on his arm. “What I can promise is to be here with you while you finish this fight, no matter how it ends.”
His eyes grow larger. They might even water a bit. So, I’m surprised when, after clearing his throat, he asks, “And in return you want the money from your trust fund, yeah?”
I lift my shoulders. “Course I do, but that’s up to you, isn’t it?
I hope you’ll change the terms, because it’s the right thing to do.
You understand what it is to build something, to grow something.
That’s what I thought I was doing when I let you manage that money from Surf City and my movies.
I trusted you to make it grow until I was ready to take over it myself. ”
“You haven’t proved you are, yet.”
I take a breath and swallow back the biting words on the tip of my tongue. This moment is about more than convincing Dad to give me what’s mine. It’s about loving him, despite who he is, so that any bitterness I have can be laid to rest with him.
Maybe letting go of that hurt will make me less afraid to love.
I offer my dad a smile. “I can’t promise I will. And if you don’t want me to have that money…” I shrug. “That’s up to you. The only thing I’m asking of you, is to let me be here with you while you take this journey, wherever it may lead.”
Archie sniffs, and Malcolm looks from me to him.
“We’d all like that, Dad.” His voice breaks. Piper glances at him, then nods.
“No tears!” Malcolm orders, his eyes a bit wet. He shakes off my hand and stands. “I’ve got to prep for my call. Send Sybil in on your way out.”
I rise slowly, weighed down with failure.
Then Malcolm turns to me. “And tell her you’ll be staying so she can help you get settled in one of the rooms upstairs.”
“Okay, Dad.” I reach for his hand to squeeze it.
He doesn’t resist.
He squeezes back.