Chapter Twelve
Fatherly Advice Is Always Useful (not)
The conversation with George went about as well as Jordan expected it to. Jordan tapped his foot against the polished coffee table leg. He’d purposefully sat on the long white sofa, hoping Charlotte would hurry up and meet him there. Meanwhile, he was sitting quite low and couldn’t help but feel like a small child again as his father lectured him.
“You can lead or you can be people’s friend,” said George. “But if you want to run the company, then you need to forget about all this soft-touch no-dress-code modern bullshit. It’s a waste of time. It’s a construct built up by a bunch of kids who were lucky with technology but have no idea what to do when the chips are down. I didn’t make this business work by worrying whether people were fulfilled.” He spat out the last word as if it tasted bad. “I made it work by focusing on a single goal—where’s the money?—and taking it the moment it was in reach. You have to have guts, boy.”
“Guts, got it.” He tried to nod forcefully. His goal right now was to not answer back. He got up to put another log on the fire. Was it late enough for a drink? “Can I get you a beer?”
“That’s the kind of thing I mean, Jordan. It’s not even dark yet but you are ready to knock off and relax. If you want to win, you have to keep pushing!”
“George, I’ve been flat out all week. I am here trying to spend a weekend with my family and my girlfriend.” He glanced at the doorway. Still no Charlotte. “The world will not end.”
George shook his head grumpily. “That’s the problem with you, you always have an excuse. All right then, just the one.” He leaned back in the arm chair and sighed. “It has been a long day. Lauren is running me ragged with wedding plans and parties.” He was complaining but he had a smile on his face. “She’s a breath of fresh air, that one. Makes me feel alive. And exhausted.”
“I bet. I’ll be right back.” He retreated to the kitchen to get the beer. As usual, Jordan had no idea what to say to his father’s clear infatuation. He didn’t want to think about him being exhausted. He didn’t even remember him treating Jordan’s mother with any sort of affection. Jordan handed over a bottle of beer and a glass to his father and sat down, taking a long drink of his own. That was better. Maybe he could make it through this conversation after all. “I’m glad you found someone.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t jump into anything. Not like you, rash as always. How long have you known this girl?”
A week, thought Jordan. Actually, not even that. “Long enough,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. To his relief, he heard footsteps in the corridor. “And there she comes now so let’s change the subject.”
Charlotte peeked her head around and then, finding them both staring at her, flushed a deep red. “Good evening,” she said. “I wondered if I might find you here.” She looked stunning in a long sleeved black knit dress with rainbow stripes on the cuffs and the skirt. Stopping just at her knee, the dress was a wonderful mix of formal and flirty.
He stood up instinctively and gave her an appreciative look. “You look lovely.”
She smiled and then cleared her throat. He realized he was staring and dragged his eyes away from her curves. “Darling,” he said, with just a glance at his father. “Come sit down. We were just having an aperitif.”
“Thank you.” She sat down and smiled at George. “It’s such a beautiful house. You must love it here.”
George looked out of sorts, cut off from his favorite hobby of telling Jordan everything he was doing wrong. He waved Jordan away. “Get her a drink as well, I guess.”
“Glass of sherry? Or maybe I’ll see if there’s some champagne.”
“Oh no, not for me. Just a beer is fine. No glass.”
Jordan tried not to wince. His father had some strong ideas about what was and was not appropriate for the fairer sex and he was pretty sure bottles of beer was reserved for boys. On the other hand, it was about time someone challenged him. “I’ll get you one now.”
As he left the room he heard his father’s voice. “Young lady. What do you do?”
Jordan froze. There was a moment of silence and then her nervous voice. “I’m self-employed,” she said. “I do contract work.”
“Really? What kind of contract work?” Another pause and then his father’s voice again, pushing her. “Maybe we could farm some work for Lovett Industries to you.”
“No, really not,” she said. She sounded like she was speaking through gritted teeth. Jordan was frozen to the spot. Please God, don’t let her spill everything to him. He could only imagine the fallout.
“The services I offer are bespoke. It’s nothing very interesting.”
Thank Christ. Jordan forced himself to move, sprinting to the kitchen to get the beer and dash back into hearing range. His father was in the process of offering her a job in personnel, which was all he fricking needed.
“Or what about that court case, Jordan. You know the one with the warehouse man, what’s his name?”
“I’m afraid I’m fully booked,” said Charlotte.
“Charlotte’s got enough work on her own,” said Jordan. “She doesn’t need my help.” He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.
Lauren’s voice came from the doorway; Jordan hadn’t noticed her arrive. “Oh, your little dormouse has a job? How sweet. I presume you’ll give it up after you get married?”
“I wasn’t intending to, no.” She shot Jordan a look through narrowed eyes. “I guess we haven’t talked about it.”
“Well,” said George, taking a long drink. “Let me give you some advice. Being in a relationship, it’s all about compromise. My son, he’s very focused on the business. He wants to prove himself, and that is how it should be. He’s chosen some difficult roads but I’m here to advise him and to help him through.”
Jordan groaned and got up to tend to the fire. He didn’t like the way this was going, not at all.
George leaned forward and patted Charlotte’s thigh like she was a puppy waiting for a treat. “Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but what he doesn’t need right now is distractions. What he needs is someone to stand by him and support him. To supply the stability and comfort he needs so he can put everything he has into the business.” He shook his head. “Young women today, they like to think they can have it all, but success is based on razor sharp focus on a single goal. I’m not being sexist. If women had careers that supported the family, then I’m sure they could find a quiet young man who would run the household and make sure they don’t have to worry about things outside of the office.” He tilted his head. “That’s what my son needs. He has more important things to do.”
Charlotte didn’t answer. Jordan couldn’t even look at her. What must she be thinking?
“Yes, sir,” she said after much too long a pause.
He smiled like a piranha. “You are very pliable, aren’t you?” He smiled. “Many modern young women try to insist they should be treated as equals, whether they deserve it or not. I was lucky with my first wife. She was like you, a quiet soul—quick witted but she didn’t have the need to always say everything she was thinking. She kept her thoughts to herself.”
The words “not like Lauren” were on the tip of Jordan’s lips but he restrained himself and drained his beer instead. “Come on now, let’s go to dinner. I heard Maria setting the table and it’d be a shame for it to get cold.”
He took the room in two strides and grabbed Charlotte by the arm. He wanted to apologize for George’s words but he was worried he’d be overheard. “I’ll show you where you can wash up,” he said helplessly.
“Thank you.” Her voice was strained. “I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“Me, too.” He gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze. “It’ll be fine.” She didn’t look convinced. And after that lecture, who could blame her?