Page 31 of Denying Davis
“I’m sure you’re their biggest client.” I sat down at the far end of the table on the opposite end to him. Between us sat a large plate of croissants, Danishes, and bran muffins, all prepared by the staff. “They’ll stop whatever they are doing in order to make you happy, Grandad.”
“They might, but that’s not the point, son. We don’t abuse our connections that way—that’s not the proper way of handling things. We have to respect those who work for us, and part of that respect comes from being mindful of their time.”
I chafed at that answer, and it reminded me of the conversation I’d had the night before with Samantha. “You mean like Dad was?”
Grandad grunted and sipped his coffee. He didn’t have to verbalize his displeasure.
“Speaking of him,” I said, “do you remember Robin Green? I recently found out that Dad played a pretty big role in her sudden departure.”
“Robin Green? Hmm? I haven’t thought of her in years.” Grandad put down his coffee cup. “Didn’t she work here as part of the household staff?”
“She did.”
“That’s about all that I remember.”
“Well, she left quickly. Here one day, then”—I snapped my fingers—“gone. Like that. And it turns out that that Dad’s lawyers showed up and required she and her daughter sign a contract saying they’d never talk about their employment here.”
“Sounds like pretty standard stuff,” Grandad replied. “We have plenty of people sign non-disclosure agreements when they work for us. It’s bad business not to.”
“It sounds a little extreme to me. At least, this one did.”
His face moved into a scowl, as if he’d just remembered some additional things about my question. “Davis, I don’t know where you found this out, but I suggest that you leave it in the past.”
“What?”
“We don’t make it a practice to keep in touch with people who have left our employment, Davis. We’ve never done that.”
“But—”
“Enough.” He raised a hand. “That’s my opinion on this subject. It’s always worked for us, and that’s final.”
My grandfather’s voice had changed, and his expression told me this matter was closed. For now. I’d have to bring it up again another time if I wanted to get the contract voided.And I will.
“Okay.” I drank some more of my orange juice, wondering where this sudden sternness of tone was coming from. “I was wondering about it.”
“Well, stop wondering. As I said, the way your father acted in the past is not a part of our future. At all.”
“Fine.”
I knew better than to press him. Once my grandad made up his mind on something, he rarely changed it. Still, this whole exchange bothered me.
Why had my father asked Robin to sign that agreement after the fact? Why had he been such an asshole to her? And why had Samantha been so skittish around me?
If only I could have asked him.
“Now,” my grandfather said, “I’ve already set up a meeting with our director of PR today. He’s vacationing at the Breakers right now with his family, but he agreed to carve out some time so we can discuss the media strategy for the announcement of your new job. We’ll want to get as much splash for this as possible, because it’s a big moment.”
I nodded and grabbed a strawberry Danish from the plate. “I would imagine this is going to send a big signal to the rest the players in our industry.” I bit into the pastry.
“Many people will be interested in this announcement, and we need to handle it with care. This will say a lot about the future of our company.” Grandad drank more coffee. “We’ll be meeting with Phillip at twelve. He’ll be coming to the house. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t be,” I said, and my grandad knew he didn’t need to remind me about that either.What had triggered his anger about Samantha’s mom though?
Which of course made me think about Sam. Was she still at the hospital? Should I head over to collect her if she is? How was her mother?She was so terrified last night, and I’m angry I haven’t even checked in with her this morning.I’d forgotten to charge my phone before I went to bed the night before, and of course, it was dead when I got up. I needed to get back to my room and check on her. I’d head over to the hospital after the meeting with Philip.
I would adhere to my grandfather’s request in all things business. But stopping contact with Sam? After all these years? Not going to happen. Especially when her mother was so sick.
I should have been engaged in the conversation. Actively participating. Offering suggestions and asserting my place as the future head of Armstrong International, not just the steel-production side of our assets. I was Davis-fucking-Armstrong-the-third for fuck’s sake, and I knew once I joined our company for good, I’d be able to lead it to a new generation of success. After all, I’d been the one to invent a travel app in my dorm room and sell it to a Silicon Valley venture capitalism firm six months later. I had the chops to grow this company.
