Chapter 5
Shane
Kristen enters my office at 8 a.m. sharp, holding a grease-stained box with a Reuben bagel in one hand and a large black coffee in the other. "Good morning, Shane," she says. She rarely calls me Shane, so it's refreshing when she does. It's like a nice little gift, a break from her usual all-business demeanor.
"Good morning, Kristen. Thanks, I'm starving," I reply, taking the bag and coffee from her over the desk.
"You're welcome, sir," she responds. "Would you like me to go through today's agenda now or after your breakfast?"
"Actually, I need you to clear my schedule until about 3:00 today. I have a meeting with Jaime's teachers, so I'll be leaving in an hour or so."
"Sorry, sir," she says. "You have a meeting with the investors from Atlanta at 10 a.m. It's the one I reminded you of yesterday and the day before."
"Damn. That's today," I sigh, feeling exhausted. "I've been putting off the meeting with his teachers for weeks."
Kristen stands by, arms crossed, awaiting my next request.
"Sir, you could send Oliver in your place. He seems knowledgeable about your pitches and ready to take it on."
"No, Atlanta's too important to pass off to anyone."
"Of course," Kristen replies, though I sense disagreement.
"I'll call Nicole and have her go to the school in my place. Give me a moment, would you?"
"Sure, sir," Kristen replies, leaving the office and closing the door behind her.
I dread calling Nicole, already imagining her response. I dial the number, and after just two rings, I hear her voice.
"You can't go to school, can you?" she says instantly, no hello and no hint of emotion.
Part of me is upset that she feels comfortable talking to her boss like this. But mostly, I feel ashamed and sad. I'm taking over her morning and disappointing her at the same time. I tell myself that I'm busy, and it's her job.
"Yes. Sorry to ask this of you, but could you..."
"Yes, Mr. Matthews, I kept my morning free in expectation. I'll update you on how your nephew is doing by the close of business. Enjoy your day, sir," she says coldly.
"Look, Nicole. I'm sorry, this is..."
"Anything else?" Nicole interrupts.
"No... that's all. Thanks a—"
"Of course," she cuts in.
The phone call ends, and I feel her tolerance for me has as well.
I press the reception button on my phone. "Kristen," I say.
Kristen returns to the office and stands in front of my desk. "Sir," she says, waiting.
"I contacted Nicole," I explain, "and she's agreed to go to the school. However, I don't think she's very happy with me now. What do you think? Should I get her a gift card? Maybe worth 500 dollars?"
"I'd suggest doubling that, sir," Kristen says.
"Alright," I agree, "you pick the brand. You probably know more about her preferences than I do, at this point."
"That's a great idea, sir. Perhaps we should also include an apology with the gift card," Kristen suggests.
"Uh, yeah," I stumble over my words, "just make sure it says, 'I'm sorry for taking up your morning and missing another of Jaime's events.' And please arrange for it to be sent over sometime today."
"Sure, sir. Do you want me to send it here so you can give it to her in person?"
"No..." I look at Kristen's face. She wears a stern look, indicating that it wasn't a request. I exhale deeply. "You're right, I'll give it to her myself."
"Sure thing, sir. So you won't be needing the apology letter?"
"No, I'll tell her myself."
"Very good, sir, but you should plan what you want to say," says Kristen. She turns to leave the office.
"And Kristen," I call out. "Contact Oliver and ask if he's free to assist me on this investor meeting."
"Yes, very well, Shane." This time, she smiles.
"Thank you, Kristen."
"It's what you pay me for, sir."
It takes everything in me to stay composed and focused as we discuss financial forecasts, market analyses, and strategic plans for the next quarter. Several investors join the call, each with inquiries and questions. While maintaining an engaged demeanor, my mind wanders to Jaime and Nicole. Asking Oliver to take the lead turns out to be the best decision I made this morning. He presents our projections clearly, addresses investors' concerns calmly, and even injects some enthusiasm into the room. He has the charm and quick wit of someone who has been doing this much longer than the five years he's worked for me. With me mentally checking in and out, I owe the success of the meeting to him.
The investors leave the call individually until the video conference screen is blank.
I sigh and turn to Oliver, who looks up from his laptop just opposite me at my desk.
"That deserves applause, Oliver," I say to him. "And a drink." I reach into my desk and pull out an aged bourbon I keep for only special occasions, along with two glasses.
"Thank you, Mr. Matthews, really... but I probably shouldn't. I've got to get back down and..."
"Really? I was planning to give you the rest of the day off. If you'd like it?"
"Yeah. And... I'll definitely take that drink."
I give him a smile, then open the bottle and pour a double shot into both glasses. The rich aroma of aged bourbon fills the room, adding a touch of warmth to the moment.
"Pardon my asking, but is everything okay, Mr. Matthews? You seemed a bit distracted today."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. I guess you noticed. I've recently become a parent... guardian... whatever you want to call it. And I'm learning that while I'm good at business, I've still got a lot to learn about children... and women, I guess. You were my hero today, Oliver." I hold my glass up in the air. Oliver grasps his and taps it to mine with a clink. "Your efforts won't go unnoticed. You can expect to be hearing from me again soon."
Oliver smiles, taking a sip of the bourbon. "Thank you, Mr. Matthews. But honestly, you should thank yourself. I've learned everything from watching you."
"Really? All that from watching me?"
"Yes, sir," Oliver assures me. "I always prepare for the big meetings by looking back at some of your past conference videos and speeches. There's always wisdom to be found in them."
"Well, that is surprising. It's good to know I'm doing some good in the world, I guess."
"The past holds a lot of wisdom," Oliver continues as he sips at his bourbon. "When I want to know how to be a good husband, I think of my uncle. My father wasn't around much. And when I want to think about being a good parent, I think of my mom or watch old family videos. Most of the guidance you need in life has already been given to you. Even if it's through doing the opposite of a bad example, you just need to open your eyes, look back, and remember it," Oliver says, finishing his bourbon.
I share a final drink with Oliver and thank him before he happily leaves the office for the day. I sit alone for a while, gazing out the window toward the mountains peeking out over the city's southern edge. There is a place there, a place I haven't been for some time, and if I really want to take a look back in time, it's where I need to go.
The old house at 26 Maudry Lane hasn't changed much since I last saw it. It doesn't look like it's aged at all; in fact, it looks newer. The front exterior is half-painted, with a fresh coat of white stretching from the left corner to just past the door. Claire could have afforded a professional, but she was always the type to do things herself. I pull the key from my pocket, the one I've been holding on to since the funeral. I walk up the three steps and onto the porch. The old swing we used to sit on has been replaced by something more modern, but a swing all the same. I remember Claire and I sitting in it in the summertime as kids, eating watermelon and challenging each other to see who could spit the seeds the farthest.
Inside, most of the furniture is new but familiar at the same time. Where the old grey couch with black pillows was, a new, larger one made of fine leather sits, the colors almost exactly the same. The dining table is the same, though it's been sanded and polished to a shine, and new cushioned chairs have replaced the old hard ones we sat on as children. I hear echoes of our voices talking about our days as the nanny served us dinner, and I see Claire standing over my shoulder, helping me with my homework. Mom and Dad were always busy, always handling business, but Claire was always there. I remember how hard it was on her, how she vowed never to treat her children that way, and I vowed never to have any.
I make my way upstairs. What was once Claire's room is now Jaime's. The boyband and popstar posters have been replaced with superheroes and anime characters. My room is now a guestroom. However, I find several boxes in the walk-in closet marked with my name. She could've thrown them all away, but she didn't. I think to myself that she knew I'd come back someday.
One of the boxes is marked "Shane/Claire/Family," and it seems to call to me. Within are family albums of us, our parents, Jaime, and his father, Mark. But it's the digital camera among it all that is the true treasure. I power it on and immediately go to the file marked "Jaime Memories." I watch for about an hour videos of varying lengths of Claire, Mark, and Jaime. Claire teaches him to tie his shoes, takes him to school on the first day, and teaches him to ride a bike. I see what Jaime is missing—it's the same thing I was missing for a long time. I realize for the first time that Claire was much more than a sister to me; she was what I needed, and what Jaime has lost: a loving parent.
I sit on the floor, surrounded by memories, letting the emotions wash over me. The pain of losing Claire feels fresh, like a wound that never quite healed. I feel the weight of my responsibilities as Jaime's guardian more than ever. I have to be more than just an uncle to him, more than just someone who hands out money or ensures his nanny is doing her job. I have to be there for him in the way Claire was for me.
I stand up and carefully repack the box, taking the camera with me. I walk through the house one last time, feeling closer to Claire than I have in years. I make a silent promise to her: I will do better. I will be there for Jaime, just as she was there for me.
Back in my car, I take a deep breath and head home, determined to start being the guardian Jaime deserves. I can't change the past, but I can honor Claire's memory by being the best parent I can be for Jaime.