Page 4 of Omega's Midlife Love
I turned off the television with a scowl. Apparently even the other side of the country wasn’t far enough away to avoid news about the family company.
I scrubbed a hand down my face.
I needed to move on, not just move away. I’d been in my new home for a week, and was already bored.
I’d spent my entire adult life working for the family company; building relationships and reassuring stakeholders in the companies we acquired that we had their best interests at heart. I’d built a lot of goodwill over the years, which had translated to low-drama processes when we finally moved to take over any one company.
We’d been known for reviving failing brands, and it was good work that made me happy.
All of that was gone now, as was, apparently, my usefulness.
There was a soft knock from across the room. I looked up to see Victor standing near one wall.
“Yes?” I asked.
He nodded and stepped forward. “I hope it’s ok sir, but I took the initiative to research some local charitable organizations. You were quite involved with several back in New York, and I thought you might want the information soon.”
I smiled. Victor was more than a house manager, he’d worked for me long enough that he was also a friend. He understood me.
“Thank you Victor,” I replied. “I appreciate it.”
He set a tablet on the cocktail table and took a seat across from me. I could see that something was on his mind.
“What is it?” I asked. “As a friend, not my employee.”
He sighed, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “To be honest, Alan, I’m worried about you. This has all hit you hard. Don’t get me wrong, I understand. That whole thing was messy. But you’ve not been yourself since Robert took over. Getting away is the best thing you could have done, in my opinion. But sitting around isn’t helping.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “What am I supposed to do? I have no interest in starting a business from scratch. That’s a young man’s game.”
“Do the things you didn’t have time to do before,” he replied. “Don’t just donate to local charities and attend fundraisers. Join the boards, make a difference behind the scenes. Use the contacts that Robert hasn’t burned, and become an investor in startups. You’ve got the skills to help others fulfill their dreams, and the means. Fight back before your nephew completely tarnishes the Beischel name.”
I looked out the window, watching the waves crash onto the sand. When I’d bought the house in Harris Cove I’d resigned myself to an early, and unwelcome, retirement. But Victor was right. I couldn’t just sit around and waste away.
I couldn’t let my greedy nephew and his sycophants on the board destroy the name that generations of my family had worked for.
I picked up the tablet and scanned the list of charities.
“I know it’s not your job,” I said. “But I’ll be leaning on you more for some tasks until we can hire a personal assistant.”
Victor straightened, professional mask back in place. “I’ll prepare a list of requirements for you to review so I can place an ad.”
“Thank you. In the meantime, can you also research which local charities are in need of board members, or other leadership organization?”
“Of course.”
“Also, let’s make hiring a chef a priority. I have the feeling that I might have to host a few dinner parties to establish myself in the community.”
“I’ll let the placement agency know that we’re ready to move onto a permanent position.”
I nodded.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’ll get to work then.” Victor stood and left, probably to the room that had been designated as the staff office.
He was right. I wasn’t the type who could sit around and wallow in my misery. The sooner I made a new purpose for myself, the better.
