Chapter 4
Gabriel
“Don’t forget about them, okay?”
I’m on the back deck of Steve’s luxury cottage, speaking on the phone with some of my coworkers at Foundations—ex-coworkers—trying to convince them to continue making monthly payouts to a few of the smaller charities we work with.
Do I get a brief whiff of satisfaction knowing it takes several people cobbled together to do the job that I used to do on my own?
Maybe.
“The transfers are manual, so it’s easy to forget,”
I remind. I don’t want to be annoying about it, but these groups count on our money. For our front-facing philanthropic endeavors, we have the big ones, the American Red Crosses. But these smaller organizations? They’re local non-profits like a drug and alcohol awareness group for teens and an organization that provides supplemental weekend meals for elementary kids. Without our assistance, they’d be in real trouble in no time.
“Got it. I’m putting a reminder in my calendar right now,”
Andrea from accounting assures me. She lowers her voice. “How are you holding up?”
“Enjoying the little break, actually.”
Relaxing on the patio set, I watch the sun climb up over the tree line across the bowl that holds the resort. I don’t mention that I get hit at random times with a sickening fear that tells me I won’t ever be able to get back to Foundations.
Don’t say anything to my siblings, but Dad’s retiring in the next year or two and I’m the one who’s supposed to take over. As much as I keep telling myself this is only a minor complication in the grand scheme of things, I really don’t know. The board has cut all ties with me.
My phone vibrates in my hand. One of Dad’s assistants is calling.
Which is new. This animosity from Dad hurts. I’m not used to being on the receiving end of his ire, and I have no idea what to do with it.
For the first time in my life, I can see what my brothers have had to go through, and I don’t like it at all.
Mark doesn’t even say hello. “Your father has asked me to set up a call with you.”
“Okay. And when will that be?”
“In ten minutes.”
Mark’s voice sounds bored.
I guess Dad’s trying to intimidate me. Instead of calling me up normally, like he has all my life, he has to schedule me in with his assistant.
“I’ll be available.”
“Very good,”
Mark says before hanging up.
Did Dad already hear that I just reached out about our minor non-profits?
That seventy thousand I blew through in a matter of hours in Prague was going to be used to start my own non-profit. Dad had promised he’d match it when it reached a hundred thousand.
So, essentially, that one night has cost me almost two hundred grand. No wonder my father wants nothing to do with me. And those selfies of Todd and me surrounded by women? Shame flares up to heat the tips of my ears. Nothing happened with those women. It just looks bad.
I went from a responsible, wholesome teetotaler to a womanizing (by appearances), drinking gambler in less than twenty-four hours.
No wonder I’ve lost everything.
And now I’m stewing. Which is exactly what Dad had intended by having his assistant call first. He wants me to worry.
He’d started to change, to soften, especially with Mom’s lingering illness, or maybe it’s just due to his advancing age. We’d all noticed it.
And then I went and ruined it.
Finally, fifteen minutes after getting off the phone with Mark, Dad calls.
“You’re in Longdale. Did Sebastian offer you a job?”
“What? No.”
There’s a quiet sigh of relief. “Good.”
I’m not going to ask why that would be a good thing. “What did Sebastian tell you?”
“I had to pressure it out of him, if that makes you feel any better.”
It doesn’t. Much.
When I don’t say anything, my dad continues. “This is still mostly under wraps. For the company’s sake, I’ve told him very little.”
“I appreciate it.”
I massage between my eyebrows. “I am going to make this right, Dad. I promise.”
It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. “Sebastian said you met with his PR rep to try to get help with your public image, and I thought I’d better give you a call.”
“It was his director of PR, but yeah.”
River insisted that I know that. She insisted on a lot of things. Despite the stress of being on this call, I can’t help smiling at the memory of talking with her yesterday.
When Dad only sighs audibly, I speak up again. “I would have thought you’d appreciate me working on fixing this.”
“Fixing this? Unless you can figure out how to go back in time and not torch the money you’d saved for a charity and the integrity of my company, there is no making this right.”
“I’ve already started to recoup the funds I lost with my consulting jobs, and I—”
“That’s not the issue here. It’s deeper than that. The board asked for your termination, as you know.”
“I know.”
I scrape the chair back across the patio floor and stand, nervous energy causing my arms and legs to feel jittery.
“So what makes you think a few press releases and a walk about through Europe . . .”
He snorts. “. . . is going to change their minds? They consider you a huge liability, Gabriel, and so do I. The man who was a year or two away from leading the company has revealed himself as a philandering player.”
I hold back a bitter laugh at my dad’s choice of words. I’ve never even remotely done anything that could be considered philandering or that would make me a player.
I begin to pace along the edge of the cement path to the trees that swallow up the house and backyard. “So all my years of work, of not drinking or gambling or philandering are meaningless because of one night of mistakes?”
“Yes!”
Dad roars. “You represented the charitable arm of our company. You represented integrity. You were the face of this company. You made Foundations Financial trustworthy in the eyes of the industry. Hundreds of organizations trust us with their money. How can they if its charitable arm is run by a scandalous cheat?”
“Now that’s too far. I’m not that—”
My dad interrupts. “No amount of PR is going to fix this, so don’t get any more ideas about taking that easy out. You’re going to have to prove, over years of work, that you’re the kind of man we all thought you were.”
It doesn’t matter that, before and after Prague, I’d never gotten so much as a speeding ticket. The mistakes I made in that one twenty-four-hour period have branded me as unworthy.
I didn’t spiral out of control on that fateful day in Prague because of a broken heart. Yes, Britney and I had recently ended things, but I wasn’t broken-hearted.
She was great. We’d been dating for a few months. She liked Major League Baseball and made a mean pumpkin chocolate chip cookie.
But she wasn’t “the one,”
and I think we both knew that early on. I was sad to see her leave my life, but it wasn’t why I did the things I did.
Maybe I imbibed in a show of solidarity with Todd. Maybe I let my guard down and got caught up in the opulence of the casino. I don’t know. I will figure it out eventually. Either way, I’m never going anywhere near a casino again.
“Does Mom know about what happened in Prague?”
“Of course she does.”
My head quivers with this news, and I back into the patio chair, sinking down into it as I force myself to breathe.
Mom had tried to call a couple of times since I got my phone back from the Prague hotel, but I hadn’t gathered up the nerve to call her back. I can’t face her. Yet after my initial lurch of terror at the thought of her knowing, an odd hollow of calm settles in my gut.
At least she knows the truth. She doesn’t like it, I’m sure. But at least she knows.
“Dad, like I said before, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove that I can responsibly represent the company. The board is going to see the changes I’ll make. You’ll see, too.”
“Unfortunately, that will take a long time. Once you’ve sufficiently proven you’re never going to do something so stupid and risky again, if you can ever prove it, we’ll talk. But by then, I could very well be retired. I can’t wait around for you to get your act together, son.”
Without another word, my dad hangs up, and I’m left speechless.
A woman on your arm and in your ear.
He’s said it so many times, like a mantra. And prior to Prague, he’d expressed his concerns about me taking over for him without a wife.
Your mother is the tour de force behind Foundations. Not many see it, but it’s true.
And, There’s little a man can accomplish without the influence of a wife.
And, more bluntly, Find someone to marry, Gabriel. It’s past time.
I love my dad. I trust his opinions most of the time. And I’d always shrugged these comments off as something to be done in the distant future. Get married and have a family. Of course I want that. But I haven’t found the one yet and figured I had plenty of time.
I stare through the trees, the edges growing sharp against the darkening sky. My hands go up behind my head, interlocking my fingers. In popular sports lore, this position is called the surrender cobra. When fans do it near the end of the game, sports newscasters joke that it signals their fear. There’s no more hope, they’re surrendering to the probability that their team is going to lose.
I got nothing. I’m on my knees here. Desperation is clinging to me like wet clothes and I’m shivering from the fear that comes from knowing marriage is, ultimately, the only thing that will convince my dad and probably the board, too, that I’m a settled, reliable, committed man.
There is no one in my life to marry, though. Despite Dad not liking the idea, for now, I’m going to have to prove my worthiness in as many other ways as possible.
My phone rings, and I look down to see that it is River Judkins calling. I hover my thumb to send it straight to voicemail. I cannot deal with her and her ire right now.
But if she’s changed her mind about freelancing for me, I have to take the call.
By the fourth ring, the spark of an idea threatens to buckle my knees.
“Mr. Tate?”
She asks after I say hello.
“Hello, River.”
As I say her name, I understand something. And it scares me. She and I are going to have to stop being so formal at some point, aren’t we?
“Can I ask you some questions about the job?”
she says. “You wouldn’t have to fill out the form if we went over it verbally.”
There’s a pause, then she continues, “I mean to say, maybe I can do it, if the pay is what you’ve promised.”
“That’s good news.”
Blood throbs through my brain. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
“I’m not agreeing to anything yet,”
she says. “Just thought I’d get more information. Ask you some more questions about the job.”
I step off the patio and into the mud, still gelatinous from the previous night’s rain. “I think we’re going to need to discuss this in person, River.”