About That Night
Page 78
After the funeral, his original plan had been to stay at his dad’s place for another week or so, helping him sort through all the phone calls, sympathy cards, flowers, and e-mails that flowed in every day. Given the empire Grey Rhodes had built, there was an incredible outpouring of people who wanted to offer their condolences, and Kyle and Jordan did the best they could to keep up with all of it.
But when that first week passed, things still seemed no better. His father showed little interest in receiving visitors or speaking to friends and family on the phone, preferring instead to spend the days alone in his study or go for long walks around the estate grounds.
“Maybe he needs to talk to someone. A professional,” Kyle said to Jordan one night when they were sitting at their parents’ dining room table, picking halfheartedly at a lasagna someone had dropped off the day before. They could feed a small nation for a month with the number of casseroles, lasagnas, and baked macaroni and cheeses they had stacked in the refrigerator and freezer. No matter that their father could practically buy a small nation.
“I already tried suggesting that to him,” Jordan said. “He says he knows what’s wrong: that Mom’s dead.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly shook them off.
Kyle squeezed her hand. “It’s just the grief talking, Jordo.” He had half a mind to march into his father’s study right then and tell him to pull his shit together for Jordan’s sake, but he doubted that would help. And he certainly understood his father’s pain; they were all struggling to make sense of their mother’s death.
He decided to stay in Chicago for another week. And then two weeks became three. There weren’t really any good days, just bad days and slightly better days. Eventually things progressed to a point where his father was willing to see friends and family, which Kyle assumed was a good sign. But his dad continued to show absolutely no interest in his company—and the business-related calls, voicemail messages, and e-mails began to pile up, all unanswered.
Thus, it came as no surprise when, three weeks after his mother’s funeral, Chuck Adelman, the general counsel of Rhodes Corporation, called Kyle and asked to meet with him. In addition to working for the company, Chuck was his father’s personal attorney and had been one of his best friends since college. Kyle agreed to meet him for lunch at a restaurant only a few blocks from the company’s downtown headquarters.
“Your father isn’t returning any of my calls,” Chuck led in after they ordered.
“From what I can tell, he’s not returning anyone’s calls,” Kyle said matter-of-factly.
Chuck spoke in a quiet tone, his eyes kind. “Look, I understand. I was there when your parents first met—it was Hash Wednesday, and we were on the quad. Your father spotted your mother sitting under a tree, on a blanket with her friends, and said, ‘That is one totally groovy chick.’ He walked over and introduced himself, and that was it for both of them.”
“Oh my God. My parents told Jordan and me that they met in a bookstore, fighting over the last Classical Civilizations textbook. They were stoned at the time?” Having gone to the University of Illinois for six years, Kyle knew exactly what people did on the quad on Hash Wednesday.
Chuck paused. “Of course, a bookstore. It’s all coming back to me now.” He pointed. “The calculus textbook. Now that’s a cute story.”
“Classical Civ.”
“Probably best if we never mention this part of the conversation to your father.”
“Agreed,” Kyle said. “Now, aside from scarring me for life and ruining every sanitized, wholesome image I had of my parents’ first meeting, why else did you want to meet today?”
Chuck rested his arms on the table, getting serious. “He can’t do this, Kyle. He’s the CEO of a billion-dollar company.”
“And as CEO, I would think he’s entitled to some personal time,” Kyle growled protectively. “My mother just died three weeks ago.”
“I’m not trying to drag him into the office. But if he could at least make himself accessible. Pick up his cell phone once in a while. Let people know that he’s still in command,” Chuck said. “The other board members are starting to wonder what’s going on.”
“Surely they understand these are unusual circumstances.”
“They do. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is a privately owned business. Your father is Rhodes Corporation.” He shifted in his chair, as if debating how to continue. “As general counsel for the company, I’m obliged to mention that in the event your father was ever to become incapacitated, he named you as his legal representative. Which means that you would be in charge of running his affairs, both personal and business—including the controlling management of the company.”
Kyle felt the burning in his eyes. He’d known, obviously, that his father had always wanted him to work for Rhodes Corporation but had had no idea that he had this much faith in him. It was an honor, and also an incredible responsibility, but most of all he could not believe that things had gotten to the point where he and Chuck needed to have this conversation. True, his father wasn’t himself these days. But no matter how messed up the situation was, there was one thing they needed to get straight, right then and there.
“No one is declaring my father incapacitated,” Kyle said, looking the general counsel right in his eyes. “That man built an empire—he’s a genius and an extremely powerful businessman. I dare anybody to say otherwise.”
But when that first week passed, things still seemed no better. His father showed little interest in receiving visitors or speaking to friends and family on the phone, preferring instead to spend the days alone in his study or go for long walks around the estate grounds.
“Maybe he needs to talk to someone. A professional,” Kyle said to Jordan one night when they were sitting at their parents’ dining room table, picking halfheartedly at a lasagna someone had dropped off the day before. They could feed a small nation for a month with the number of casseroles, lasagnas, and baked macaroni and cheeses they had stacked in the refrigerator and freezer. No matter that their father could practically buy a small nation.
“I already tried suggesting that to him,” Jordan said. “He says he knows what’s wrong: that Mom’s dead.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly shook them off.
Kyle squeezed her hand. “It’s just the grief talking, Jordo.” He had half a mind to march into his father’s study right then and tell him to pull his shit together for Jordan’s sake, but he doubted that would help. And he certainly understood his father’s pain; they were all struggling to make sense of their mother’s death.
He decided to stay in Chicago for another week. And then two weeks became three. There weren’t really any good days, just bad days and slightly better days. Eventually things progressed to a point where his father was willing to see friends and family, which Kyle assumed was a good sign. But his dad continued to show absolutely no interest in his company—and the business-related calls, voicemail messages, and e-mails began to pile up, all unanswered.
Thus, it came as no surprise when, three weeks after his mother’s funeral, Chuck Adelman, the general counsel of Rhodes Corporation, called Kyle and asked to meet with him. In addition to working for the company, Chuck was his father’s personal attorney and had been one of his best friends since college. Kyle agreed to meet him for lunch at a restaurant only a few blocks from the company’s downtown headquarters.
“Your father isn’t returning any of my calls,” Chuck led in after they ordered.
“From what I can tell, he’s not returning anyone’s calls,” Kyle said matter-of-factly.
Chuck spoke in a quiet tone, his eyes kind. “Look, I understand. I was there when your parents first met—it was Hash Wednesday, and we were on the quad. Your father spotted your mother sitting under a tree, on a blanket with her friends, and said, ‘That is one totally groovy chick.’ He walked over and introduced himself, and that was it for both of them.”
“Oh my God. My parents told Jordan and me that they met in a bookstore, fighting over the last Classical Civilizations textbook. They were stoned at the time?” Having gone to the University of Illinois for six years, Kyle knew exactly what people did on the quad on Hash Wednesday.
Chuck paused. “Of course, a bookstore. It’s all coming back to me now.” He pointed. “The calculus textbook. Now that’s a cute story.”
“Classical Civ.”
“Probably best if we never mention this part of the conversation to your father.”
“Agreed,” Kyle said. “Now, aside from scarring me for life and ruining every sanitized, wholesome image I had of my parents’ first meeting, why else did you want to meet today?”
Chuck rested his arms on the table, getting serious. “He can’t do this, Kyle. He’s the CEO of a billion-dollar company.”
“And as CEO, I would think he’s entitled to some personal time,” Kyle growled protectively. “My mother just died three weeks ago.”
“I’m not trying to drag him into the office. But if he could at least make himself accessible. Pick up his cell phone once in a while. Let people know that he’s still in command,” Chuck said. “The other board members are starting to wonder what’s going on.”
“Surely they understand these are unusual circumstances.”
“They do. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is a privately owned business. Your father is Rhodes Corporation.” He shifted in his chair, as if debating how to continue. “As general counsel for the company, I’m obliged to mention that in the event your father was ever to become incapacitated, he named you as his legal representative. Which means that you would be in charge of running his affairs, both personal and business—including the controlling management of the company.”
Kyle felt the burning in his eyes. He’d known, obviously, that his father had always wanted him to work for Rhodes Corporation but had had no idea that he had this much faith in him. It was an honor, and also an incredible responsibility, but most of all he could not believe that things had gotten to the point where he and Chuck needed to have this conversation. True, his father wasn’t himself these days. But no matter how messed up the situation was, there was one thing they needed to get straight, right then and there.
“No one is declaring my father incapacitated,” Kyle said, looking the general counsel right in his eyes. “That man built an empire—he’s a genius and an extremely powerful businessman. I dare anybody to say otherwise.”
