Clarise
It took me one month, but I finally mustered enough courage for this.
"Dad," I start to say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I wait for him to look up at me.
"Yes?" He simply asks me, not bothering to raise his eyes from whatever document he’s reading. He’s hunched over his walnut desk, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and I’m not sure if he has registered that I’m inside his office right now.
"I’ve been thinking a lot about, uhm, taking a more active role in the company," I force myself to say, even though there’s a tight knot in my throat.
"Is that so?" He continues in that casual tone of his, and I know for a certainty that he isn’t listening to me. That was to be expected - whenever my father’s working, his whole focus is dedicated to the task at hand.
"Dad, listen to me," I push through, taking one step toward his desk and sitting in front of him. At last, he raises his eyes from the folder in front of him and looks up at me, an expression of surprise in his face, almost as if he didn’t expect to see me here.
"What is it, Clarise?" He asks, taking his glasses off and setting them on the table. He leans back against his chair, folds his hands over his chest, and I know I have his full attention.
"I want to take a more active role in the company," I repeat, looking straight into his eyes while Connor’s words replay inside my head in a loop: you can do anything. The expression on his face remains unreadable for a long while, and so I find myself looking for something to justify my request. "I’ve proved myself at Wharton, and I’ve been working hard to learn about all our investments… I have a good grasp of the business, and I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines. I want in."
"You want in…" He whispers, and then his expression lights up as his lips curl into a smile. A good sign. "That’s good, Clarise."
"Yeah…" I mutter, not really knowing how to react. After pissing off my parents with my crazy antics all throughout college, I wasn’t expecting my father to react this well.
"Of course, don’t expect to be assigned an official position right away. You’ll sit in at meetings, learn the ropes, and then we’ll go from there… Keep your eyes peeled, pay attention to what your brother is doing, and soon enough you’ll have a more active role."
"Thank you," I tell him, even though I’m not so sure if I can learn anything from Earl. Even though he’s been working with my father for the past four years, I doubt my brother has anything to teach me. Sure, he was a star student at Wharton, and he also proved to be a brilliant investor during his first years working at the company… But lately, it seems that he has become too bold, and too reckless… I’ve been pouring over our financial statements for the past few weeks, and I can’t really vouch for the decisions my brother has been making. If I were in his position, I sure as hell would be doing things differently. If I had to sum it up, I’d say that Earl got too greedy, too fast.
Of course, it’s not like what I’m telling you matters much. My brother has successfully entrenched himself in the company, and I’m just a mere outsider as of now. Even though my father always told us that, if we wanted, we both could run the company one day… Well, that seems more like a pipe-dr
eam nowadays. Earl acts as if he’s the sole heir of the Donovan business, and my antics in college didn’t exactly help my case.
But it’s time for me to change that. Specially now that Earl seems to be acting like a loose cannon.
"Thank you, Dad," I tell him, getting up to feet. "I won’t disappoint you."
"I know you won’t," he replies kindly, acting more like a father than a CEO. Feeling lighter than I’ve felt in months, I stroll out of my father’s office.
"So, do I have a target on my back now?" Earl asks as he sees me come out of the office. He’s standing up in the hallway, facing one of the large paintings we have hanging there, a replica of the Battle of the Gettysburg. The Civil War - how fitting.
"Were you listening in?" I ask him, but I don’t need him to answer to know that eavesdropping was exactly what he was doing. "Look, Earl, I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye," I continue, trying to build a bridge between me and him, "but that doesn’t mean we can’t get along. I know you’re working hard under Dad, and I can help you to --"
"Please, Clarise," he scoffs, never taking his eyes off the painting. "What exactly do you think you can help me with? If I were you, I’d just stay home and enjoy myself. Party around - you’re better at that than managing a business."
"No," I tell him, a cold tone to my voice. "This is going to happen, whether you like it or not."
"We’ll see," he says, finally turning to me and smiling. It’s a crooked smile, one brimming with unspoken threats.
"Yes, we’ll see," I whisper, my eyes locked on his. I tried to bury the hatchet and he has spat in my face. Now, more than ever, I need to step up my game. And there’s only one way for me to do that.
Connor.
During the whole month, I gave him all the distance he seemed to need. Of course, what Connor hasn’t realized is that this distance is nothing but a trap. Every time we cross paths I offer him a smile and a suggestive glance, and I’m always wearing the kind of clothes that ensure he’ll be thinking of me for the rest of the day.
Distance and time - I gave him both these things, but only because I’m a patient girl. I learned not to rush into things, to take my time… And that’s exactly what I’m doing with him. I’m driving him crazy one day at a time, and it’s working.
But there’s a time for patience, and a time for boldness.
Can you guess what time is it right now?
14