Chapter 4 – Ben

Pam’s words stayed in my mind for the rest of the week. I couldn’t stop thinking that she had a very valid point and maybe I was looking at this whole marriage clause wrong. Maybe it really was just about my father wanting to make sure I was okay and, if that was the case, then I could find a way out of this mess without signing away my life to a wife I didn’t want.

Knowing that there was only one place for me to get the answers I needed, the first thing I did after returning from NYC was to drive over to Hank’s house. I parked my Bentley in the driveway of his modest home—or at least, modest by Bel Air standards—and made my way to his front door. After three knocks, his face appeared on the other side of the glass.

“Benji,” he greeted me by the nickname only he and dad ever used and pulled me in for a tight hug. Being called Benji at forty was odd, but after recent events, it was a nostalgic oddity I enjoyed. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he added.

I nodded as we pulled away. “I know, but I just got back and wanted to talk to you before the board meeting tomorrow. Is now a bad time?”

His lips parted into one of the broad smiles I had seen my entire life. “It’s never a bad time for you, son. C’mon in.”

He stepped away from the threshold and opened the door wider, welcoming me into his home. The house hadn’t changed one bit from when I was a kid. The walls were still painted the same cream color, and the floors were still covered with the same ethnic rugs. He guided me through the long corridor that connected the foyer to the double doors of his home office.

The smell of paper and wood filled my nostrils as we walked inside the old-school wood paneled room. I smirked thinking of the many times I sat in the corner while Dad and Hank talked business at the long table by the window.

“Do you want something to drink?” Hank asked as I took a seat at one of the chairs facing his side of the desk.

Needing a clear head to properly navigate the delicate subject, I passed on the drink and waited until he was seated. Just as I opened my mouth to finally start the conversation I needed to have, Hank put on his reading glasses and pulled a folder from his top drawer. He tossed a stack of papers over to me and placed a second one right in front of him.

“What’s that?” I asked, looking down at the papers.

Hank raised a brow at me. “What you came here for, and don’t deny it. You and I are gonna read your dad’s will together and see what we can do about your situation. I really want to help you, son, and I’ve told Kevin that much, but I’m bound by law to uphold his wishes. I hope you understand that.”

I sighed but still nodded. Hank wasn’t only my father’s friend. He was family, and I knew he was on my side. He’d always been.

“Okay,” I started picking the papers up from his desk. “What does this thing states.”

With a small smile on his lips, Hank picked up his version of the will and started explaining me the terms clause by clause. Aside from some money to charity and personal belongings he wanted his closest friends to have, I had received everything dad owned. The money, the houses, the cars, the art and jewels, everything, except for his shares and duties to our company, was now mine.

Then, after that was settled, we arrived at the damned marriage clause. The text was quite straightforward. A mere seven line, meddling paragraph that wreaked havoc in my personal life.

Once we were done reading it, I removed my glasses and propped my forehead in my palm. “Can’t I buy his shares instead, then?” I demanded, trying to find another way.

Hank pulled his glasses off as well and shook his head. “No, to protect what is rightfully yours, Kevin has already transferred the bonds to your name. However, they are bound to the marriage clause and will only be released after your first wedding anniversary.”

“And what if I don’t get married? Then a third of the company will just be in limbo forever?”

“No,” Hank assured. “The fourth article of that clause states that if you die without an heir, those shares will be divided equally through the members of the board.”

It took a while for the information to sink in. Once it did, I tossed my glasses and the will over Hank’s desk and stood up. Pacing back and forth, I tried to calm my mind, but it was impossible. I brought a hand to the back of my neck and tried to massage the tension away, but it was also a losing battle.

“I understand that my father wanted to make sure I was okay after he died, but marriage, Hank? I’m a forty-three-year-old man, if I’m not married yet is because I know it won’t make me happy. That was him, not me.”

The exasperation in my tone must have been so apparent that Hank got up as well, filled two glasses with bourbon and brought one of them to me. I downed the contents in one gulp as I listened to him say, “I know, and I told him that, but he was adamant that you at least give family life a shot. That’s why the marriage has to last only a year.”

Hanks words shined on me like a light at the end of the tunnel. They also brought Pam and the story of her mother’s last request back to my mind.

This whole time I had thought that to fulfill my dad’s last wish I would have to forgo my bachelor ways and commit myself to a woman for life. However, if all my father wanted was for me to try marriage for one year, there was a way for me to give him what he wanted while also keeping the freedom I needed and the life I loved, just as Pam had given her mother revenge without actually feeding her father the ashes. I just had to make sure my brewing plan would work before I put my foot in my mouth.

“And if I give marriage a try and it doesn’t work out, will I lose the company?” I asked Hank in my leveled and business like voice.

He tilted his head at me knowing I was up to something. “No. If you make it to a whole year of marriage and then get a divorce, the shares and the company will remain yours. But I must warn you that article five says that before you can completely take over, the board and I have to make sure she’s actually a wife and not one of the gold-digging floozies you hang out with. She’ll have to live with you, attend events and prove that she’s a part of your life and not just a prop.”

With a real smile forming on my face for the first time in weeks, I said, “C’mon, man. I’d never marry a floozy. I’m not a moron.”

“But you will marry?” Hank asked with a raised brow.

I shrugged, placed my empty glass on top of Hank’s desk and patted his shoulder as I prepared to leave. “That is yet to be determined. All I can say is that I’ve recently met a woman who would fill that position perfectly. I just have to get her to say I do.”