Page 9 of My Dear Mr. Corporate

CHAPTER 4

Tate

We stood staring at the wall of pictures of members of the Rosenbaum family who had helped to build this company. I didn’t know any of the faces, but they seemed important to dad for some reason so, I tried to pay attention as he spoke. I didn’t want him to accuse me of not listening as my teacher did, even when I was.

“Son, do you know what all these pictures represent?”

I shook my head. “No, dad. Do you know them?”

“I’ve only met two in my lifetime,” he replied. “My father and his father. You know what that’s called son? Legacy.”

“Le-gacy,” I repeated the word, trying to mimic my father’s pronunciation. My father was different. I had always known that much. He was away a lot and he didn’t get to come to my school recitals often either. I wanted to understand why this was more important than me.

“That’s right, son. This is your legacy. It’s what I’ve worked so hard to protect so one day neither you nor your kids will know poverty like our forefathers. One day you will run this place like I do now, and you’ll do a splendid job.”

Even at ten I felt the pressure closing in on me already. “Why? What if I don’t want to be a businessman like you?”

Dad chuckled and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You will, son. You’re a Rosenbaum. It’s what we do. Never forget that. You’re a Rosenbaum.”

Seeing the name of the company looming before me in its gold lettering, a wave of nostalgia hit me harder than I had expected. I had anticipated coming back to this place would have brought back memories. How could it not? As a kid growing up, this had been my second home since that first time dad had brought me here. I had felt overwhelmed by his expectations for me, but mostly because I had internal conflict about whether I was joining the company for love or because he said it had to be so. When I had accepted that I loved this company as much as he had said I would, my life had been much happier.

I parked my car in the vacant spot to the left of the designated C.E.O. parking. Seeing the unfamiliar car, I noted that my uncle had traded up. I felt good about this. It meant he had the business under control. When Uncle Simon had seen how much I was struggling with the running of the company after the accident that claimed both my wife and child’s lives, he had suggested I needed to take some time to heal. Grateful for his suggestion, I hadn’t even cleared my desk before I left.

Two years had elapsed since I left, and not once had he called me to demand I return to the job. I was grateful for the time he had given me to heal. I had always felt sorry for him because my father had made me the C.E.O. instead of him, just before he died. My father had transferred all his shares in the company to me, and with my own shares added, I had the largest portion alone in the company. I always sensed some tension existed between him and my father because of this but I was never able to determine if this was just a figment of my imagination. They had certainly never fought before me and Uncle Simon was the closest family member I had living. My mother was alive and well, but we had never been too close. She always struck me as judgmental and hard to please. I had been closer to my father.

I exited the car and approached the building, eager to be inside and catch up on what was happening at the company. I hadn’t called my uncle to let him know I was in town because I wanted to surprise him. Once I stepped into the lobby, it was like being catapulted in the past. The area usually sported a steady stream of people coming and going, and today was no exception. Rosenbaum did not only provide luxury homes for the wealthy, but while I had held the C.E.O. office, I had worked to give back to the community by offsetting costs to help the needy in acquiring smaller homes. Rachel had worked with the charity foundation which had the sole purpose of providing more affordable homes to people who were down on their luck. Uncle Simon had also assured me the foundation would be taken care of while I was away.

I ignored the front desk and headed for the elevator. I had no need to be pointed in the direction I was going. Glancing at the wall which boasted the Rosenbaum legacy, I stopped mid-stride. What in the world? At the top of the photos was a portrait of Uncle Simon exactly where my father’s photo had been the last day I left. It was a tradition that the latest member of the family who ran the company had their portrait in that position. The first day my father had brought me here my grandfather’s picture had been at the top. To the best of my knowledge, Uncle Simon was very much still alive.

“Excuse me, sir. May I see your visitor’s card please?”

I tore my gaze away from the wall to address the security guard standing before me. I didn’t know him which meant he was new because after working here for over five years, I knew even the janitors by name. I took an active interest in the people who worked for me.

“I don’t have one,” I replied.

“Then you’ll have to speak to the front desk about securing one before you can pass this point.”

Impatiently I dug into my breast pocket and removed my wallet. Locating my ID, I showed it to him. He glanced from the photo to me and smiled apologetically.

“My apologies, Mr. Rosenbaum.” He seemed unsure as though he had never heard of me before.

“Is Simon Rosenbaum in?” I asked him, pocketing my wallet.

“Yes, sir. He came in half an hour ago.”

I nodded my thanks and proceeded to the elevator, wondering if I should have prepared my uncle for my arrival after all. I hadn’t because I wanted to surprise him. I should have been here since last week but with Bryan moving in, I had wanted to spend some time with him, making him feel at home.

I rode the elevator to the top floor, noting this too had been altered. My uncle had been busy renovating. The furniture had been changed and the desk set up just outside his office had been replaced as well. The desk which should have been attended to by Marge, my Personal Assistant was vacant.

Frowning, I approached the closed door with Uncle Simon’s name affixed to it in gold lettering and the title C.E.O. Seeing it felt strange, not that I could have wronged him since he had served in the position for two years. However, I couldn’t help the queasy feeling in my stomach. I wondered why my dad never wanted him to lead the company, and I hoped I hadn’t been wrong by not considering that question in greater detail before I ran off.

I knocked on the door twice and when I didn’t get a response tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked so I pushed it open to peek inside. Perhaps Uncle Simon had wandered to another office and I could wait for him.

“Uncle Simon?” His name croaked from my lips as I stared in confusion at the sight that awaited me. Uncle Simon stood, his face paled and his mouth opened in shock. I gathered he hadn’t expected me but the look of panic that crossed his face was unexpected. Until I understood exactly what threw off the energy in the room. The tail of his shirt trailed through his unopened zipper, like he had hastily shoved in his shirt and didn’t get enough time to fix himself. I took in the other tell-tale signs, the crushed shirt, the upturned collar and the disheveled hair. Was that pink lipstick he was wearing?

My eyes dropped to the desk and his followed. He had someone under there. I didn’t know whether to leave and come back later or go along with his charade that nothing was amiss. I decided to play his game until I could put the pieces of the puzzle back together to find out what the hell was going on here. I was pretty sure it wasn’t his wife Susan beneath that table. She wouldn’t have had reason to hide.

“My God, Tate, when did you get here?” he exclaimed, placing both hands on top of the desk.

---