Chapter 2

Eli

The heavy wrought iron doors of the Copeland estate slowly swing open, and security guard, Ken, waves as I drive through. Ken’s been with the family for decades now, longer than I’ve been alive at least, his snowy white hair peeking out over the formal cap on his head. He probably wouldn’t be any good if someone actually tried to get through, which is why my grandfather also has a state of the art security system installed all over the grounds. Familiar old trees give shade as I cruise down the drive. Everything here is stately and old, almost transporting me back in time. The mansion itself is three stories high, spread into two wings that sweep back towards the well-tended gardens. The front facade has multiple stone statues, carved and placed around it as though it was some European castle instead of a hotel baron’s home.

I pull up to the front door and get out of my Ferrari. The slam of the door echoes in the quiet air. My grandfather’s bought acres all around the mansion, adding more and more in his old age. It’s as though he’s trying to shut out the rest of the world. Not a good approach for someone at the helm of a multi-million corporation. I walk up the steps, the front door opening just as I arrive. My grandfather’s butler bows. Yet another mainstay in the household. I have many memories of Jacob’s disapproving look as I slid down the bannister of the grand staircase or brought back a girl on the weekend.

“He’s expecting you in the solar,” he murmurs deferentially.

“Thank you,” I say, striding forward.

Childhood memories flash by as I walk down the halls. Rich brocade carpet dulls my footsteps, the place seeming darker and more somber than before. Paintings, sculptures and antiques stand on either side of the hallway. Doors to the rooms are closed tight, as if preventing anyone from going inside. It wasn’t always this way. My grandmother lit up the whole house, a whirlwind of activity that would make each day bright and exciting. People were always visiting, plans were always being made, parties and teas and balls that lasted until the early hours of the morning. But she died a few years back, and the energy of the house with her.

I enter into the kitchen, and one of my favorite people is there, kneading bread dough like she always has. She’s got her grey-streaked hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her uniform is freshly starched. Martha’s round face looks up, beams at me, and she claps the flour off her hands. We hug, and she has to tilt back to get a good look at me.

“Well it’s about time you came to visit,” she says scoldingly. “Almost six months have gone by Eli, and not a peep from you. I know you always have a phone glued to your ear, so there’s no excuse for not keeping me updated.”

“I’ve been busy with the new flagship hotel,” I say.

Martha snorts.

“More like you’ve been busy with the ladies. I know you Eli, and your ways. And I warrant that your grandfather knows them too,” she adds, nodding towards the solar. “He’s not pleased.”

“The papers exaggerate,” I mutter.

“Well, they had to be writing it based off something, don’t they?”

She puts her arms on her fat hips, an old Martha gesture of disapproval.

“Go on then.”

I flash her a smile, and she gives me one too, forgiving me in an instant. I slowly open up the doors to the solar and slip through. This used to be my grandmother’s favorite place. She had flowers flown in every day, covering the room and making me sneeze every time I entered. My grandfather sits in the far end of the room, on a wicker chair that faces out into what used to be the prizewinning gardens out back. Also my grandmother’s doing, though now that she’s not here to spearhead the planting and the tending, it’s fallen into disarray.

My grandfather looks gaunt, thinner than he was the last time I’ve come to see him. His once rich dark hair has faded, but his beard is neat, and his clothes still neat. His face is etched into a permanent frown.

“Hello grandfather,” I say respectfully. I take a seat on the wicker loveseat diagonal to him.

“Eli,” he says, his voice gravelly. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “There was traffic leaving the city.”

“There’s always traffic. Shouldn’t you account for that?”

I don’t say anything. There’s no point. He will just bring up another thing to criticize. My grandfather wasn’t always this way. Distant, yes, but I think I made him proud. Both of my parents died when I was three in a car crash, and he and grandmother took me in. They never approved of my mother, but when it became clear that I was his only heir, he brought me under his wing. Grandmother loved me, in a way, but she was never maternal. That role was left to Martha to fill. Despite all this, for whatever stupid reason, his approval mattered to me. And I strove to do the best I could in the company. At first, it was obligation and gratitude that kept me there. But now, the hotel business is my business. I’ve turned our company around from an economy line brand into something more, acquiring, merging, and investing in our hotels until I’d built up an empire. I thrived on business, on closing the deal, on every venture or crazy risk that succeeds for me.

That’s why I’m here today.

My grandfather is still the owner of the company. He sits on the boards, he is the one with the final say. But he’s made missteps that I’ve had to correct. And worse, he doesn’t believe in technology and the internet, fighting back hard against my suggestions until all of our competitors have done the same. I’ve fought for every percentage of our market share. It’s been enough up until now, but there’s a chance for us to expand overseas, to go international. It’s risky, but I can do it. I know that I can. The only thing that’s preventing us from succeeding is my grandfather. Time and time again he’s delayed handing over the reins. He promises he will once I’m able to turn around this hotel, after I’ve overseen a division, after I open up in every single state. The goalposts keep moving with every success, but I’ve proven myself to him every time.

“You look like you haven’t been eating well,” my grandfather comments as he resettles into the chair.

“You look like you haven’t eaten at all,” I return. “Have you seen a doctor?”

One clawed hand waves the idea away.

“Don’t need doctors to tell me that I’m growing old.”

We lapse into silence. I look outside, towards the beautiful stone fountain my grandmother installed as the centerpiece of her garden. I used to splash in it when I was a kid on a hot summer’s day.

“You’ve been growing old for a while. There’s something else going on, isn’t there? Why don’t you just tell me?”

He glares at me a moment, then harrumphs.

“You’ll know soon enough I suppose.”

I wait as he readjusts himself, cursing the hardness of the chair.

“I’m dying Eli,” he says. “Plain and simple.”

The news doesn’t surprise me. A part of me knew something was happening as soon as I laid eyes on him, but I feel a tightness in my chest all the same.

“They’re giving me three months, perhaps a month or two more if I’m exceedingly lucky.”

He slowly leans to the side, picks up a manila envelope.

“The contract,” he says. “I’ve signed over everything to you.”

I take the envelope and place it down beside me. I don’t care about the fortune. I need to know about the business.

“I know how eager you are to get started. You have big changes in mind don’t you?” He gives a short laugh when he sees my face. “I’ve always known. I may not move as quickly as I used to, but the old noggin still works. That’s fine, it’s important to always be moving in business. I admit that I’ve lost that edge, that thirst. You’ve proven yourself worthy, so why haven’t I handed over leadership. Well, there’s one last condition.”

My hands tighten on my lap. Another condition, another delay. Even now, when he’s admitted that I would be the better leader. When we are on the cusp of an opportunity to take our company to new limits never seen before, he delays.

“What is it?” I ask, trying hard not to grit my teeth.

“A wife,” he says.

It takes me a few seconds to understand what he’s asking.

“A wife?”

“Yes. I would have you settle down with a wife, a good woman who will help you put all this nonsense about dancing with strippers behind you. A man needs a stable family life at home to ground him, to help him strive to do better.”

The old man has clearly lost his marbles finally.

“She wasn’t a stripper,” I ground out. “And I’m already doing great. I’ve put our hotels in every state. We’re the second largest chain in the country. What more do you want?”

“It’s not enough, Eli, to have success on paper. You need success in your life too. If the business is all you have, there will be nobody to lean on when times get tough. If the business goes, and it can, in an instant. And then you’ll find that pretty young thing you picked up at the bar won’t be there.”

“This is ridiculous!” The words burst out of me like water from a dam. “I’ve done everything you asked for. I’ve succeeded where lesser men have failed. Yes, I enjoy myself with different women, but why shouldn’t I be allowed to let off a little stress? It hasn’t affected my work.”

I jump to my feet, eyes blazing. Grandfather folds his hand over his other one.

“Nonetheless, that is my last request. Inside the envelope are the papers for the transfer as a sign of good faith. Once you’re married to an upstanding woman, ownership of the company will take effect immediately.”

I’m furious, trying hard to contain my anger. I snatch up the envelope, pause, and storm out before I say something I might regret.

Martha’s eyes widen as I stride through. Normally I would stay for lunch, but my hunger has disappeared completely. Jacob jumps when he sees me, opens up the door so I can walk through. I get into the car, and rip open the envelope. It’s exactly as grandfather’s stated. In order to take over the company and the family fortune, I must be married. If I’m not married at the time of my grandfather’s death, the company will be taken public and the profits donated. I’d still retain the Copeland fortune, as well as the estate, but that’s it. I didn’t care about the money. That wasn’t important. What is important is the business. I’m singularly good at this.

“Damnit,” I curse, slamming a fist on the steering wheel. “Where the hell do I find a wife?”