Chapter 3
MILES
“Ihave to say, you really talked me into something here,” Roland Bastion said. The expression on his face, Miles saw, was mildly displeased. “I’m not sure now why I agreed to this sale.”
It did Miles no good for the other man to leave unhappy, even though he thought Bastion had reason to doubt himself.
It wasn’t a very good deal from his end, after all.
But the reputation of Gold Standard was important to him, and he didn’t want Bastion walking out of this meeting feeling as if he’d been taken advantage of.
“Would you like to go over the particulars again?” he asked.
“No, everything is in the packet you put together,” Bastion tapped it, distractedly.
He seemed even more perturbed by the fact that he’d been given paperwork.
Miles was used to that. A lot of people approached these deals with more of a handshake-and-a-grin mentality, but Miles knew better.
If you didn’t put things in writing, you couldn’t expect to remember them the same way.
“The percentage you’ll continue to earn on original BasTech products is laid out in there,” he said.
“It’s more than enough to keep you in good financial shape year-to-year for the rest of your life.
” That was true. Miles might be a hard negotiator, but he didn’t relish the idea of leaving anyone high and dry.
Bastion ought to be able to make a living on the work he had done, even if he wasn’t going to be CEO of the company anymore.
“Well, I don’t know about this now that I see it laid out,” Bastion said. “Maybe we should talk about an extra ten percent.”
“Non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Miles said firmly. “We already worked all this out and signed the paperwork, so it’s all decided. But if there are any questions I can answer for you, do feel free to ask. That was the purpose of this meeting.”
Bastion sighed. “I suppose I have to accept that things are going to be different now that I’m no longer in control,” he admitted. “It’s just a little challenging. I founded this company myself, after all. Your father knows what that’s like.”
Miles lost some sympathy for the man. It was a low blow to say something like that, to point out that he and Miles’s father were both company founders, whereas Miles himself was inheriting an established empire.
It was the truth, but it was a constant insecurity for Miles.
As hard as he worked, would he have been able to do all this by himself if it hadn’t been for his father setting him up for success?
How many of his own accomplishments could he really take credit for?
Well, he could take credit for this one, no matter what Bastion thought about it.
“I understand very well how hard it is to relinquish control of something that’s always been yours,” he said.
“I’ll always be willing to answer any questions you might have about the direction we’re taking the company.
” He’d discovered in previous meetings like this, that such an offer had a way of making the person who was selling to him feel as if they were still going to have some creative control.
Bastion wasn’t going to have any such thing, of course, but he didn’t need to focus on that right now.
Let him take reassurance from the idea that he would still be involved in his company.
“And we’ve agreed to keep the BasTech name in circulation.
Everything your company pioneered will have A BasTech Creation on the label. ”
Bastion nodded slowly. “I suppose that’ll be all right,” he said. “I just don’t like to say goodbye to it all, after so many years.”
“I understand,” Miles said soothingly. This was his least favorite part of doing business. Everything had been agreed upon. This meeting should be a formality. Instead, he found himself having to re-sell Bastion on things he had already agreed to.
Bastion rose to his feet, finally wearing a smile. “All right,” he said. “I know I couldn’t be leaving the business in better hands than I am, young man.”
Young man. Miles bristled again, but he didn’t let it show. He shook Bastion’s hand with a smile. “Why don’t we get some champagne?” he suggested.
“That sounds perfect.”
The door opened and his secretary, a kid Miles had hired straight out of college, came in. Henry was smart and eager to please, and Miles hoped to promote him to a position of more significance within the company in a few years, once he had some experience under his belt.
“Henry,” he said, “can you please get a bottle of champagne for Mr. Bastion and myself?”
But Henry was fidgeting, clearly agitated about something. “Can I speak to you outside, Mr. Aspin?”
Miles frowned. This didn’t give the best impression.
A part of him wanted to scold Henry, but he had pledged to himself that he would always prioritize making Gold Standard a comfortable work environment for his employees.
The kid was obviously upset about something.
“This will only be a moment,” he said to Bastion. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Bastion assured him.
Miles stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. “What’s this about, Henry?”
“I just got a phone call from St. Francis Hospital,” Henry said, and for the first time, Miles noticed how pale he was. “They say your father was just brought in.”
“My father?” Miles’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s going on?”
“They wouldn’t tell me,” Henry said. “They said he’s stable for now, but that it’s serious. I think you should get down there.”
Miles was already moving toward his briefcase.
“Can you deal with Bastion for me? All the papers are signed. Everything is taken care of.” Focusing on business was keeping his panic at bay.
“Get him some champagne if he’d like it.
Tell him I’m sorry to leave like this, but that I had a family emergency and it was unavoidable.
Let him know that he can call me anytime if there are any follow-up questions in the next few days. ”
Henry nodded. “Of course,” he said.
“I’ll have my cell,” Miles said, already thinking of the instructions he would need to text to various people in the organization.
Someone was going to have to step up and take over tomorrow’s meetings.
Someone was going to have to manage the financials.
Everything Miles struggled to take his hands off of and allow others to do, would now be left to other people to manage, and it was a terrible thought.
But he clung to that thought. Because that was easier to cope with than letting his mind wander to what might have happened to his father.
St. Francis Hospital was a busy place, but Silas Aspin had a VIP suite on the top floor.
Miles knew that this part of the hospital had been reserved by his father years ago for the family’s private use, although when they didn’t need it, they asked the hospital to give it at no charge to families who did.
Today, they needed it.
Miles didn’t have to ask anyone for directions as to where to find his father.
He knew exactly where to go, and he ran the whole way, dodging nurses and orderlies who called to him to slow down.
Fear had caught up with him on the drive over.
Henry had told him his father was stable, but what if something had changed in the last twenty minutes?
What if he was running to his father’s deathbed?
He burst into the room. A single nurse stood by the bed, checking something on a machine. Miles’s heart stopped. There were so many machines. It hurt to see his father hooked up to all those machines.
The nurse looked up at him. “Are you Miles Aspin?”
Miles nodded wordlessly, unable to speak.
“You got here quickly,” she said, giving him a gentle smile.
“My assistant couldn’t tell me what had happened…”
“Why don’t you sit down?” She pointed to a comfortable sofa by the window.
Miles didn’t want to sit down. He didn’t want this to be a sitting-down kind of conversation. He wanted the nurse to tell him that his father had passed out, but that he hadn’t been hurt, and that Miles could take him home. Something simple like that.
“We think it was a stroke,” the nurse said.
Miles’s breath caught.
No.
“He’s stable, and we think it was caught quickly,” she said. “But we’re not sure how his recovery is going to look. Right now, he’s lost a lot of function, and he’s going to need care. Some people recover from these things. Others don’t.”
She was giving him everything she knew at once, Miles understood. She wasn’t going to let him get his hopes up for this being less awful than it was. She was ripping the bandage off. But God, it hurt.
“How’s his cognitive functioning?” he asked, his voice a croak.
“We’re not sure about that either, we still have tests to run. But we’ll learn a lot when he sees you,” the nurse told him. “If he recognizes you, that’s a great sign to us that his cognition is still pretty intact.”
She didn’t present the other side of that hypothetical — what it might mean if Miles’s father didn’t recognize him. It didn’t really need to be said.
Miles rose to his feet and approached the bed.
His father’s eyelids were half closed. He looked a decade older than he had the other day on the golf course.
It was hard to believe this was the same man.
Miles’s stomach swooped. For a moment he felt like a child again, and all he wanted was to turn and run away, but he knew he couldn’t do that.
“Dad…?” His father’s eyes fluttered open.
“That’s a great sign,” the nurse murmured, and Miles tried to take heart. He reached out and took his father’s hand. His father looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and then gave his hand a squeeze.
Miles pressed his lips together, trying his best not to allow emotion to overwhelm him. “He squeezed my hand,” he reported to the nurse.
“Wonderful,” she said warmly. “That almost certainly means he recognizes you. That’s such a good indicator.”
“What do I do now?”
“Talk to him,” she suggested. “I’ll give the two of you some space. Just let him know that you’re here. He’ll find that reassuring, and that kind of thing can be very good for healing.” She smiled, rested a hand briefly on his shoulder, then turned and left the room.
Miles felt a chasm opening up in the pit of his stomach.
He wanted to talk to his father. Of course he did.
But this didn’t feel like talking to his father at all.
Everything about it was wrong. Maybe the man in the bed recognized Miles, but Miles didn’t recognize him.
This couldn’t be the hero of his childhood, the confident, capable man Miles had been so certain would never be defeated by anything.
Is it my fault? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to that day golfing. I knew his health was in a bad place… Why did I say yes to that?
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Dad.” His father’s eyes searched his face, and Miles cast about desperately for something to say.
He would ordinarily have told his father about the meeting he’d just been at, but all he could think was how poorly it had been received when he’d told his father about the BasTech deal in the first place.
He wanted to be a reassuring presence, not a distressing one.
Well, he did tell me what he wants from me. I could give him that.
The thought was only half-formed in his mind when the words came tumbling out. “I did what you wanted, Dad,” he said, eyes filling with tears. “I found a nice woman. You’d really like her. And we’re going to have a baby.”
His father’s eyes grew wide, and Miles was more sure than ever that there was comprehension here. This was a clear reaction to the news that the future of the company was secure. His ploy had worked. His father was overjoyed.
But Miles was struck with a stab of dread.
What was he going to do? He hoped more than anything that his father would live, that he would pull through this.
But if he did, eventually it would become obvious that there was no girlfriend and no baby.
There never had been. He would be devastated that Miles had made up such a story.
What if he lives just long enough for me to break his heart?
No. There had to be a solution. Every problem had a solution when you had enough money to give to it. Miles would figure something out.