Chapter 36
Three Weeks Later
Ali
The early-August sun did its job to heat up my new office on the thirty-seventh floor of my dad’s company in downtown Chicago. The city skyline was to my back. I found myself lost in the photo on my computer screen saver. A photo of Jake’s secret meadow.
It was hard to focus. I told myself it was because of the hot, sticky air outside.
The height of summer. The buzz of downtown Chicago.
I convinced myself I was still easing back into city life, not yet desensitized to the constant stimulation.
I repeated like an incantation that this was the right thing. I was in the right place.
Dad and Kathy had finished building their case to blow the whistle on GlennGlobal almost as soon as I came back with them.
Ultimately, they did the right thing. Who cared that my dad’s true motivation was money. They’d exposed GlennGlobal’s crimes. Justice would be served. For the communities that were already impacted. And for future areas the company was targeting. Like Lakeside.
There wasn’t much for me to do or contribute to the case in the end. But at least I was here. Back in Dad’s good graces. Just like I wanted.
I hadn’t made my way back to any kind of social life yet, though. When exposing the corporation’s negligence in mitigating and disclosing groundwater and soil contamination and the destruction of wildlife habitats, repairing my reputation was not a priority.
I hadn’t expected repairing my reputation to be included in the legal mess. But I had hoped my dad would say something. Not publicly. Just to me. Something that said he saw me in all of it.
I’d gotten used to being seen.
He made me part of the New Ventures and Innovation department at Bennet Media.
I heard the whispers, “Nepo hire,” echoed in the halls.
Technically, they were right. Nepotism did land me this role.
But I hoped so did my work in Lakeside. My work for Lakeside.
The team just didn’t know me yet. Didn’t know Lakeside yet.
I really hoped that would all change after today.
I’d prepared a pitch deck to present to the team and my father this afternoon. I’d even invited a special guest from Lakeside. One I was meeting in the lobby as soon as he texted me that he’d arrived.
“Ali, the conference room is all set up for you. Anything else you need?” asked one of my colleagues from IT. She was unwaveringly kind and helpful. I don’t think she knew or cared that I was the boss’s daughter. An ally. And she had great style. Simple with a street edge.
“Thank you, Marisol. I appreciate your diligence.”
“You got it.”
“Hey, um . . . would you ever want to hang out? Outside of work, I mean?”
“Oh . . .” She hesitated. “Yeah, maybe.”
My face dropped. I couldn’t help it. I made it awkward.
“I have a kid at home. My mom helps while I’m at work, but I have very little flexibility in my schedule. But maybe?”
“Of course. I didn’t realize. How old?”
“He’s six.” She pulled out her phone to show me some photos. He looked like a very cool kid. Like his mom. I told her as much.
“We should definitely try to have lunch or just a cup of coffee in the lobby. I want to hear all about him.”
“Okay, cool. Yeah, that would be nice,” she said with a smile.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
“Ope, excuse me, Marisol. My guest for the meeting’s here. I’m going to meet him in the lobby.”
Yay, he’s here. And did I just say ope?
“Text me if anything doesn’t work. I can be here in thirty seconds to help,” she said.
“Thank you.” I looked at her with as much gratitude as I could communicate with a smile and a drop of my eyes. Because her words felt like care and support among the silent judgment I’d encountered thus far at Bennet Media.
I practically sprinted to the elevators.
When the doors slid open, he was there with a big, warm grin.
“Asher!” I greeted him with a hug.
“Ali! Whoa . . .” My hug took him by surprise. He lifted his arms and returned the hug. “It’s great to see you too.”
We parted and started toward the elevator.
“Everyone at home misses you,” he recited cheerfully.
Everyone? Anyone in particular?
“I miss them too.” There was an unexpected lump in my throat. “How is Elsie? The kids?”
“Oh, they’re great. Trying to enjoy what’s left of summer.”
Small talk. I hated small talk.
“And Marjorie? MJ? Stacy?” My heart hurt saying their names. All the people I missed most. Well, all but one. I couldn’t bring myself to say his name.
“Yeah, nothing new to report. All is pretty much the way you left it.” We stepped into the empty elevator, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching as the door closed. The numbers started to go up.
“Sounds like the wildflower festival is going to be perfect. Marjorie is a natural. I’m glad she took over the planning committee. And Betsy is already ordering for fall.”
“Yes. It’s all very exciting.” He nodded. “Not the same without you, though.”
“Hmm . . . Thanks.”
“He’s doing okay too.”
My head spun toward Asher. A hard swallow. “He?”
Asher turned his head. “Jake. He’s okay. He’ll be okay.”
“Oh, of course. I didn’t . . . I don’t . . . We decided to cut ties, so I don’t . . .” I didn’t know how to finish. I faced forward again.
“I know. It was a tough breakup.”
“Our relationship barely got going. It was hardly a breakup.” A coldness settled in my belly as I lied. “I’m sure he’s moved on.”
“Ali, you made a lasting impact on a lot of folks in Lakeside. I hope you know it is always open to welcome you back.”
A clipped little burst of sound escaped me.
Silence followed as the elevator ascended.
The doors opened onto the marble lobby of Dad’s offices, and something in both of us shifted. It was the familiar feeling of armoring back up.
“Here we are.” I gestured for Asher to go first.
Asher was here because I’d asked him to be.
I was about to pitch Bennet Media a new vertical. Something bigger than a campaign. New business we all could be proud of. And I wanted Asher by my side to represent the community connection.
Asher and I stood at the front of the boardroom, surrounded by faces I didn’t quite know yet. My dad sat at the helm.
“Ready?” I asked Asher in a hushed tone.
“Let’s go!” he shout-whispered back.
We bumped our fists. I turned and started the presentation.
“Thank you for making the time to hear my proposal. What I’m proposing today is about community revitalization done right.
Investment without erasure. Development without displacement.
Growth that protects culture rather than paves over it.
Sustainability and real environmental repair.
This is not just about turning a profit—it’s building a legacy. ”
I paused for dramatic effect. I changed the slide on the screen.
“Midsize and small towns across the country are struggling with economic stagnation. Traditional development models prioritize speed and profit. What I’m proposing is different.”
“So . . . philanthropy?” one of the older male executives interrupted. He leaned back in his chair. Steepled his fingers.
“Um . . . well, no. Strategic investment.”
“I see somebody consulted her Business 101 textbooks.” The jerk gave me a small smile as a few others chuckled around the table.
“It sounds expensive, and community revitalization charity is not exactly on our growth trajectory chart,” Steepled Fingers said.
“I realize that, but this is about new business. Scalable, socially responsible business. The returns aren’t just financial—they’re reputational. A legacy.”
“Forgive me, James, are we a developmental firm now?” He glanced toward my father. “This is a great TED Talk, but we need ideas that make good business sense for a media company.”
The insult landed hard on the slick boardroom table. I studied my father, willing him to say something in my defense.
My dad adjusted his sleeves and cleared his throat. Then he glanced in my direction. “Alison, you may continue.”
The look on his face was stern and cold.
I looked back at the screen projecting my deck slides, stealing a beat to regroup before continuing.
“This would begin with a pilot program in one community where we can collect data and measure outcomes.”
“I bet I know where that will be,” one of the other executives grumbled to the person seated next to him, who scoffed under his breath.
Still nothing from Dad.
“It’s a feel-good.” Steepled fingers lifted his brows and nodded. “But ultimately, it’ll be a drain on resources. Time. Money. It’s generous of you to indulge your daughter, James, but this is not the direction for Bennet Media.”
I was painfully aware that these people had their minds made up before they even sat down. I confronted a familiar humiliation and dismissal. It felt like I was being pecked by a rooster while trying to balance on a beam.
I inhaled and forced my shoulders to relax. Maybe I could salvage this. Maybe Dad was just waiting for me to rise to the challenge.
“I’ve seen firsthand how thoughtful investment can stabilize a community. I believe in the model. I have numbers to back it up—”
“What kind of capital are we talking about here, Alison?” Dad cut me off, impatience in his voice. The abruptness threw me.
“If you, um . . . flip to page seventeen in your deck packet, you’ll see some of the numbers we are working with.”
The sound of flipping pages echoed around the table, then quieted as everyone reviewed the charts.
“It’s a cute idea, but passion projects aren’t worthy of our time, James.” Steepled Fingers tossed the deck packet on the table, arrogantly smoothed down his tie.
“Agreed, Evan.” Dad closed his packet and finally met my eyes.
“This doesn’t align with our current priorities. It’s not a good investment.”
He tapped his knuckles on the table.
“I think that concludes this discussion.”
He stood and walked out. The rest of them followed, leaving behind the deck packets scattered across the table.