I hated leaving Samantha at the hospital that night, but I did it anyway. I drove back to the island, drank a glass of bourbon before bed, and fell into a restless sleep. When I woke up the next morning, it was after ten, my sheets felt drenched in sweat, and I had a hard-on the size of Montana.
In short, I was fucked up, distracted, and determined.
This wasn’t what I’d anticipated for this trip to Palm Beach. I was supposed to go down there after law school graduation, get my job at the company, drink some cocktails, mingle with some socialites, welcome the new year, and end the holidays with a bang. Simple formula.
And none of that included running into my past.
“You’re up late,” my grandfather said from behind his copy of The Wall Street Journal as I shuffled into the kitchen. He moved the newspaper so he could get a look at me. “And still in your pajamas.”
“What can I say?” I jerked open the refrigerator. “I’m on vacation, right?” I took the orange juice from the second shelf then walked to the nearby cabinet and grabbed a glass.
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have responsibilities, Davis.” Grandad folded the paper and tossed it onto the table. “Those don’t end just because you are on personal time.”
I poured a small glass of juice then put the canister back into the fridge. “I know. You don’t have to remind me of that.”
“I had hoped we’d squeeze in a meeting today with our tax attorney and the estate planner. But now it’s a little late to interrupt their schedule, given the holidays.”
“I’m sure you’re their biggest client.” I sat down at the far end of the table on the opposite end to him. Between us sat a large plate of croissants, Danishes, and bran muffins, all prepared by the staff. “They’ll stop whatever they are doing in order to make you happy, Grandad.”
“They might, but that’s not the point, son. We don’t abuse our connections that way—that’s not the proper way of handling things. We have to respect those who work for us, and part of that respect comes from being mindful of their time.”
I chafed at that answer, and it reminded me of the conversation I’d had the night before with Samantha. “You mean like Dad was?”
Grandad grunted and sipped his coffee. He didn’t have to verbalize his displeasure.
“Speaking of him,” I said, “do you remember Robin Green? I recently found out that Dad played a pretty big role in her sudden departure.”
“Robin Green? Hmm? I haven’t thought of her in years.” Grandad put down his coffee cup. “Didn’t she work here as part of the household staff?”
“She did.”
“That’s about all that I remember.”
“Well, she left quickly. Here one day, then”—I snapped my fingers—“gone. Like that. And it turns out that that Dad’s lawyers showed up and required she and her daughter sign a contract saying they’d never talk about their employment here.”
“Sounds like pretty standard stuff,” Grandad replied. “We have plenty of people sign non-disclosure agreements when they work for us. It’s bad business not to.”
“It sounds a little extreme to me. At least, this one did.”
His face moved into a scowl, as if he’d just remembered some additional things about my question. “Davis, I don’t know where you found this out, but I suggest that you leave it in the past.”
“What?”
“We don’t make it a practice to keep in touch with people who have left our employment, Davis. We’ve never done that.”
“But—”
“Enough.” He raised a hand. “That’s my opinion on this subject. It’s always worked for us, and that’s final.”
My grandfather’s voice had changed, and his expression told me this matter was closed. For now. I’d have to bring it up again another time if I wanted to get the contract voided. And I will.
“Okay.” I drank some more of my orange juice, wondering where this sudden sternness of tone was coming from. “I was wondering about it.”
“Well, stop wondering. As I said, the way your father acted in the past is not a part of our future. At all.”
“Fine.”
I knew better than to press him. Once my grandad made up his mind on something, he rarely changed it. Still, this whole exchange bothered me.
Why had my father asked Robin to sign that agreement after the fact? Why had he been such an asshole to her? And why had Samantha been so skittish around me?
If only I could have asked him.
“Now,” my grandfather said, “I’ve already set up a meeting with our director of PR today. He’s vacationing at the Breakers right now with his family, but he agreed to carve out some time so we can discuss the media strategy for the announcement of your new job. We’ll want to get as much splash for this as possible, because it’s a big moment.”
I nodded and grabbed a strawberry Danish from the plate. “I would imagine this is going to send a big signal to the rest the players in our industry.” I bit into the pastry.
“Many people will be interested in this announcement, and we need to handle it with care. This will say a lot about the future of our company.” Grandad drank more coffee. “We’ll be meeting with Phillip at twelve. He’ll be coming to the house. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t be,” I said, and my grandad knew he didn’t need to remind me about that either. What had triggered his anger about Samantha’s mom though?
Which of course made me think about Sam. Was she still at the hospital? Should I head over to collect her if she is? How was her mother? She was so terrified last night, and I’m angry I haven’t even checked in with her this morning. I’d forgotten to charge my phone before I went to bed the night before, and of course, it was dead when I got up. I needed to get back to my room and check on her. I’d head over to the hospital after the meeting with Philip.
I would adhere to my grandfather’s request in all things business. But stopping contact with Sam? After all these years? Not going to happen. Especially when her mother was so sick.
I should have been engaged in the conversation. Actively participating. Offering suggestions and asserting my place as the future head of Armstrong International, not just the steel-production side of our assets. I was Davis-fucking-Armstrong-the-third for fuck’s sake, and I knew once I joined our company for good, I’d be able to lead it to a new generation of success. After all, I’d been the one to invent a travel app in my dorm room and sell it to a Silicon Valley venture capitalism firm six months later. I had the chops to grow this company.
But I wasn’t listening to the discussion. Not one word of it.
Instead, I was thinking about the text message from Samantha, the one I saw while my phone was charged. The one that said the dinner we’d shared was a nice distraction from her daily life and the problems with her mother.
It had a been a nice distraction for me too. More than nice. I wanted more of it as soon as I could get it.
And get it I will.
“Davis, what do you think about that? What if we call their offices this afternoon?” Phillip Wentworth asked. He sat across from me at the patio table that overlooked the rectangular pool with one eyebrow raised. “What is your opinion?”
I blinked at him. “Well, I—”
“Did you hear anything we’ve been talking about?” my grandfather demanded. “We need your input, son.”
“I know.” I glanced back and forth at the two of them, struggling for a response. No, I hadn’t heard what they’d said at all. I couldn’t have been further away. “Whatever you all decide.” I gestured at Philip. “You’re the expert in public relations, not me.”
Phillip cleared his throat. “From my experience, it’s better to engage the client actively in the decision-making. You’re as much a part of this as we are, and you should have a say in how we roll out this strategy. So, what are your thoughts?”
Good grief. Shit. This was not me—I wasn’t usually this disorganized or disinterested. I was not a fuck-up.
Get it together, Davis…
“Please, go over it again. I want to make sure it’s clear to me.” I pulled at the collar of my golf shirt. “I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind regarding all the changes that are coming to this company. I know we have a lot to do during the next few weeks and months.”
A weak excuse. Pathetic. I could do better than this.
My grandfather grunted. He wasn’t pleased with my behavior either.
“Certainly, Mr. Armstrong. It’s never simple to run a global business with interests in a variety of sectors. Armstrong International is complicated, but that’s part of the beauty of it all.” Phillip looked down at the folio next to his plate of breakfast. “With that in mind, I am thinking we roll out this announcement with a multi-pronged approach. First, we can grant Wall Street Financial an exclusive interview. They’ve looking for a January cover story after their profile of Terrek Hardy fell through. We’re not Silicon Valley like Terrek, but we do have a variety of legacy interests that continue to have impact on daily American life. WSF readers will want to hear from us.”
“Fine,” I replied. “Perfect.”
“After that, we’ll have an official press conference. Something slick and set in New York. I can investigate booking the Plaza or the Four Seasons, if you’d like. We need something formal.” He fanned his fingers then spread apart his hands as if he was envisioning a billboard. “A location that really says, this is the future of Armstrong International.”
“What about the lobby of the headquarters?” I asked.
Phillip nodded. “We can do it there.”
“I approve. Let’s go for it,” Grandad said, and folded his hands together. “I’d also like to see if we can work with 60 Minutes. I owe them, and they’ve been hankering for a sit-down ever since we acquired Westing Brand Investments two years ago.” He winked. “Gotta keep them happy, right?”
“Journalists are insatiable. Relentless. Never hurts to toss them something here and there.” Phillip wrote a few comments on a legal pad. “That can help us later if something unexpected arises.”
“Good ideas,” I said. “Let’s do it all.”
My grandfather agreed, and I felt my shoulders relax. The meeting would soon wrap up, and I looked forward to it. When it did, I’d still have time to stop at the hospital before hitting the links for round of afternoon golf with Aaron. Samantha hadn’t invited me to visit at the hospital, but I didn’t care.
I was going anyway.