Page 10 of Don't Call Me Daddy
“I’d like us to get a head start on the planning. So, if that’s something you’re interested in helping with, I’d love to get the ball rolling.” He looks around the room, and my eyes conveniently fall to my computer screen, where I finish typing out an email.
After a moment of complete silence, my dad clears his throat. “Good idea to get on top of things, Roman. Maybe we can send out an email at the end of next week and ask for volunteers, give everyone some time to come up with their ideas.”
We all know whoever’s appointed to the committee will have to be volun-toldbecause no one has time for planning a festival on top of everything else they have to do.
“That brings us to our next topic of discussion.” My dad fidgets with his pen as he waits for everyone’s attention.
I sit up a little straighter, and my pulse kicks up a notch. My dad only fidgets when he’s got something important to say or he’s nervous. And I think I know just what this is about.
“As you know, Leo’s been working on the Thompson Brothers deal diligently over the last year, and I’m pleased to inform you, they signed a contract to partner with Kingsley Industries and carry all our brands as generics in all two thousand stores across North America.”
The table erupts in applause with people whooping and hollering and slapping my back to congratulate me. My chest swells with pride, and in that moment, all the stress and long hours feel worth it. I’m beaming, and it feels incredible to hit such a gigantic goal.
When my father started this company twenty-five years ago, he didn’t cut any corners. We’ve been able to reduce our carbon footprint by thirty-eight percent, and that doesn’t even account for the extra steps we’ve taken to utilize sustainable energy in all our factories. This partnership will allow us to serve thirty percent more of the low-income families in rural America, thus eliminating further pollution and providing safe, chemical-free, biodegradable products to the people who need them most.
It’s a big fucking deal, and I feel honored to have contributed to that.
My dad stands from the far end of the conference table, and everyone’s chatter settles down.
“As you all know, I’m not getting any younger …”
I suck in a breath. Is he really doing this today?
I straighten my tie and wipe nonexistent wrinkles from my pants. I can’t believe this is happening. Everything I’ve been working so hard for is all about to come true …
“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to retiring—what it would mean for this company and the people of Ashford Falls. When I started Kingsley Industries, I had a great idea, sure, but it was just a seed. It was my beautiful wife, Mary, who insisted we rebuild this place she grew up into its former glory … and then some. But it’s the people here, that are the fertile soil which enabled it to grow. Ashford Falls wouldn’t be what it is today without Kingsley Industries … but we wouldn’t be who we are without this town either.” He weaves his fingers together to demonstrate. “So, after much deliberation and persistent nudges from my lovely wife, I’ve decided to retire on my sixtieth birthday, which just so happens to fall on the same day as this year’s Phantom Fest.”
You could hear a pin drop; the room is so quiet. My dad’s always had a way of commanding attention, but this is perhaps the biggest news this company’s seen since we went public ten years ago.
“Which brings me to my next announcement.” He pauses until he has everyone’s complete attention. “I’ve decided my replacement will be …”
I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants legs as I steady my breathing.
“Carl Manchester.”
My heart drops to my stomach, and I nearly fall out of my seat. A high-pitched ringing fills my ears from the sudden change in my blood pressure.
Did I just hear that right?
Did my father just name Carl as his replacement over me, his oldest son?
I shake my head, trying to make it make sense. I thought for sure I was a shoo-in.
I mean, I landed the Thompson deal; he was just congratulating me two minutes ago over it. I’ve worked my ass off for this company, never taken a vacation, only called in sick once when I had the flu and they forced me not to come in—and still, I worked from home until I was cleared to come back.
How? How is this happening?
Is this about the incident? Who am I kidding? Of course it is.
I meet my dad’s gaze, and his eyes are rimmed with tears. He looks disappointed, and my gut sinks with that all-too-familiar feeling of shame.
If it takes me the rest of my life to atone for my mistake, then I’m prepared for that, but I know my impact will go further if I’m the one calling the shots. I can only control so much from my current position.
But now’s not the time to dig up the past. People are watching me, and I need to put on a professional face.
I congratulate Carl and shake his hand, pretend like I’m excited even. Honestly, it’s nothing against Carl. The guy is fantastic—hence why my dad chose him—but he’s in his late fifties, and he doesn’t exactly have the freshest ideas for growth. Nothing like how I’d lead.
“With that said, that’s a wrap for Q2. Now, who’s up for tacos? There’s a food truck parked outside and a bar set up with margaritas in the cafeteria. Carl, yours is on the house.” Dad wraps an arm around Carl, then calls over his shoulder, “Just kidding. It’s all on the house.”
