Chapter Seven
Alexander
One Week Later
“I would like to see us expand into software design.”
“Son.” I anticipate my father’s groan before he even does it. It’s followed by shaking his head and throwing his weight back into his black leather office chair. I’ve seen that move a million times. You’d think I was announcing I was planning to rob a bank versus proposing to expand the business. “We’ve discussed this before. We’re known for selling business furniture and office supplies.”
I maintain my composure by rubbing my palms along my thighs. “Expanding into software is a natural extension of our business model.” Anytime I’ve brought up a new idea, I get the same reaction. My father believes in tradition, loyalty, and remaining stuck in the mud.
“How?” He frowns. “We don’t know the first thing about software design, how to package it, how to market it, or how to gain a foothold. You’re talking about a high-risk project. There would be a huge investment in starting up with no guarantee that our customers would come to us for these services, and if they didn’t, where would we recoup our money?”
“You seem to forget I went to college for business management, mathematics, and software design. This is what I know.”
“That hobby of yours? It’s not a business model. It’s something you do for fun. Your place is to remain true to the company’s promise to the customers. Like mine was when my father shifted the reigns over to me, and his father did for him.”
My hands curl into fists on my lap. One might recommend I wait him out. He’s nearing sixty and set to retire in a few years. And as his only child, I’ll take over in his place.
But you don’t know the entire story. I must agree to maintain the same product options for ten years, or the company is dissolved, and all the proceeds go to charity. My great-grandfather was an asshole.
“This is not a hobby. I’ve been designing software for ten years and have sold numerous apps.”
My father shakes his head. “You know I have no idea what you’re talking about. Your place is with the business. It’s not selling little gadgets and games for kids to play. All that mumbo jumbo is ridiculous.” He places his hands on the chair arms and shoves upward. “I don’t understand kids these days, and after everything I’ve done for you.”
Visions of Daisy’s mom berating her at the wedding flash into my mind. We’re not as dissimilar as one might think. Our parents consider us not smart enough to chew gum and tie our shoes simultaneously.
“Forget I said anything.” I ease out of my chair, determined to maintain control of my emotions better than him. If I ever have children, I’m giving them the option of taking on this albatross or leaving it in the dust.
If I stay in his good graces long enough to take over.
He smiles, and the tension disappears from his features. “That’s better.” He walks around the desk and pats my shoulder. “I don’t mind that you have a hobby, but it needs to stay that way. It’s something you do when you’re off work.”
“Right.” I nod briskly and exit his office, returning to mine.
Cora, my administrative assistant, glances up as I march through the door. Her nose wrinkles. “Didn’t go well?”
“What do you think?”
The wrinkles extend to the corners of her eyes. “It didn’t go well.”
“Does it ever?” I sit on the edge of her desk. “No. It doesn’t.” Cora has been with me since I graduated from college. She’s 15 years older than me and has been with the company since she graduated from high school. But her loyalty to me is unquestionable.
She clasps her hands together on the desk. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s disheartening to see him continue to fight progress. Everything is going digital now, and he doesn’t even consider that trend in new products.” She’s preaching to the choir.
“Thanks for being a sounding board.”
“You’re welcome.”
I pick up the photo of the twin girls on her desk. “How was the birthday party?”
“It was great.” She grins, causing her eyes to twinkle. “They loved the face painting, and the carnival-themed party their father put on.” Cora is a grandma of two four-year-old spitfires. They’re a bundle of chaos when they stop by the office.
“That sounds like fun.” I set the frame down on the desk.
She straightens in her seat and clutches the mouse, flipping from screen to screen. “You should have come.”
“I wasn’t in the mood to party.” I haven’t been in the mood for anything since Daisy walked out, leaving a Dear John note on my pillow.