The Living Room (2 page)

“I’ve been in this business for a long time.”

Daniel quickly cut him off. “Are you really giving me the ‘I’ve been in the business a long time’ speech? Come on, Art. You brought me into this business, taught me everything I know, and now you’re going to talk to me like it’s my first day again?”

He smirked with confidence but was quickly given a dose of reality.

“Fine, I’ll talk to you as if it’s your last day in the business,” the older man said in a no-nonsense tone.

Daniel just stared. He recognized immediately that Art was humorless about whatever the topic was going to be. Flustered, he stumbled over the simple words, “Wait a minute. What about the partnership and…and the accounts?”

“Stop it, Daniel. I have something serious I want to talk to you about. I just wanted to get your attention.”

Daniel took a deep breath and listened attentively.

“What did I tell you when I first brought you into the firm?” Art paused. “Think, Daniel. I gave you three rules for long-term success in this business.”

Daniel was puzzled. A lot had happened over the years, and Art was infamous about declaring new rules.

“Work harder than anyone else.” Art held up his first finger.

Daniel nodded; he vaguely remembered the three-finger reference that he was about to be re-educated on.

“Help others the way you would help your own family.” Art now grasped his first and second finger.

Daniel again nodded in agreement. But he wondered about the value of having this conversation today and where Art was going with it.

“Three?” Art prompted and paused for a response.

He stared at Daniel, as if trying to will him to answer correctly, but the pupil was quiet. Art leaned forward now to gain his full attention and, holding his three fingers together tightly, said, “Make time to be with your own family.”

Daniel now understood the intention of Art’s discussion. The timing of it caught him off guard, though. He felt awkward and a little offended that it was even being brought up at work. Sure, he had never paid much attention to the third rule, but he had his reasons and didn’t feel like it had hampered his success, or the income he had generated for the firm over the years.

“Art, if this is about my personal life, you know how dedicated I am to my work,” he objected and began to list the many accomplishments that his superior already knew.

Art shushed him with an impatient wave of his hand and held up his three fingers again, this time right in front of Daniel’s face.

“Remember the three rules.” He pointed to the finger in the middle. “Helping others over the long term takes support. It takes the other two rules to keep it in place. You can’t tell me you’re happy with your life when you’re not at work. If you were, you wouldn’t be here as much as you are. Six, seven days a week—and nights!” he pronounced furiously, referring to the joke Daniel had made at the table only minutes ago.

Daniel now slouched in his chair a little. He had received the message. Art had approached the topic of Daniel’s relationship status more subtly in the past—a question or comment made casually when asking about how many place settings they should make for dinner invitations, or when tickets needed to be arranged for the theater. But this was a direct strike.

Daniel was aware that his lack of a partner was a concern to those close to him, and he understood that they only wanted his happiness. He would focus on the issue when he had the time to concentrate more on himself. Previous attempts to address the root cause of his disinterest had proven to be too painful—and too distracting from his career aspirations.

He briefly reminisced about the subject matter he had discussed privately with a therapist many years ago. Those sessions lasted only a few weeks while he heard analysis and opinions that he had already recognized for himself. He initially went for the assistance based on unsolicited remarks—not always delivered in a kind manner—by several women with whom he had attempted to have relationships. Most only lasted a few weeks, and never more than a few months, before he was consistently discarded for his lack of devotion. He recalled the psychiatrist’s confirmation of commitment and abandonment issues—which likely connected to the loss of his parents. That was enough for him to suspend the appointments and any relationships for the time being.

“Art, you’ve been in this business your whole life. You know what it takes to get ahead, and what you have with Linda, I would give the world for.”

Art smiled to himself. He knew he wouldn’t have the life he had today if it weren’t for his wife, Linda. She was as old fashioned as he was and ran the house while raising their family with traditional values. Art was always the first one to announce his gratitude and respect for her at gatherings. More than once, he had repeated his belief that beside every good man stood a great woman.

“I still don’t know how she puts up with you.” Daniel shook his head and smiled. “But I haven’t found one like her yet.”

“You haven’t made time,” Art replied.

Gazing right into Art’s eyes, Daniel somewhat reluctantly agreed, “I haven’t made time, yet.” He knew the topic was a serious one with Art, or it wouldn’t have come up, especially at a time that should be celebrated.

Art pushed his point even further: “I’m sitting here telling you as a friend, and as someone who is considering you for a long-term position as partner in the firm, make time. Now, Daniel.”

“Are you telling me I have to get married to get ahead in the firm?”

Art glared back, unhappy with the tone in Daniel’s voice.

Daniel knew that he had overplayed his hand and wished he’d kept the question to himself.

“You’ll get ahead anyway, and I’m not trying to stop you. I’m telling you how to stay ahead,” Art finished soberly.

Daniel understood that Art’s comments were from the heart and struggled with his inner ego to just end the conversation and retreat to familiar ground in order to recoup. He stood and thanked Art for the concern, and left the room.

He skipped the elevator and headed for the stairs. He needed a moment alone, both to recover from the discussion and to take in the announcement by the board.

The rest of the day was less than productive by his usual standards, but there was no one around to judge him. The board’s gratitude and their announcement was enough to grant anyone a celebratory day. The private chat with Art deserved some self-reflection time.

It was now evening. He sat at his desk, alone in his thoughts, staring into the darkness outside. The office tower was only visible from the street because of the one light still glowing from inside his office.

Inspecting the room, he saw the accomplishments that his office walls boasted. He struggled to remember the many occasions when he had received praise and wondered if any of it was worth remembering. The only photo he had on his desk showed him and Art shaking hands, with family and children gathered around Art. Daniel’s side of the picture was glaringly empty. Everyone in the picture always treated him as one of the family but he still felt uncomfortable, as though he were imposing on all of them.

He held up the photo and wished he could change the way he had responded to Art in their earlier exchange. He knew he couldn’t take his words back and was comforted a little, knowing that Art would follow one of his own rules: Tomorrow is a new day.

As he packed up to head home, Daniel noticed the note stuck on his phone, reminding him to call the attorney. He wondered if another day really mattered after almost three weeks of neglect. He wasn’t purposely avoiding the man, but he had accepted his life without any living family. The news that an uncle he never knew had existed and recently passed on wasn’t enough to cause any great concern. He moved the note to the center of his desk for the morning and assured himself that it would be his first call.

He left the office, drove home slowly through the nearly deserted streets, and entered his lavish apartment, alone. Exhausted, he retired to his room and, with light music as his companion, struggled to fall asleep.

Chapter 2

The alarm clock never sounded. Too restless to sleep, Daniel had turned it off earlier.

His routine trip to work was flawless: a stop for the paper, some reflection on the attorney trying to track him down, and a parking spot awaiting his arrival.

People again congratulated him as he entered the office. This time, it also came from one of the firm’s partners, Mr. Bowman. It was as if to say the new position was in the bag. He normally didn’t speak much with Daniel, other than at office gatherings or the annual Christmas party. Unlike Art, Peter Bowman had little to do with the daily operations of the firm. He’d been semi-retired for years and restricted his participation to executive meetings and the occasional press release.

Nancy greeted Daniel with a good morning, a bottle of water, and a message that the attorney had already called. This didn’t much affect Daniel in any way. His thoughts were still on yesterday’s uneasy discussion with Art, and how to heal any resulting flesh wounds. Daniel had enormous respect for his mentor and knew that without his guidance over the past decade, he wouldn’t be enjoying the success he had achieved.

He summoned Nancy into his office for a private conversation. She informed him that the word was already around the office and reminded him not to forget the little people when he received his big promotion. Nancy had become a valuable asset to him over the years—not only as a model employee, but also for her ability to gather gossip from the office without spreading any of her own. It gave him that extra edge his colleagues envied.

She was somewhere into her late fifties, although she would never tell and was never really asked. Married and a mother of two strikingly attractive daughters (both young adults now and living out of state), Nancy was extremely professional and secretly thought of Daniel as her own offspring. He sensed her motherly instinct toward him but never mentioned it aloud.

Having an extra set of eyes and ears he could trust in an office this size helped him avoid the pitfalls of office politics. They shared a laugh and Daniel assured her that he was going nowhere without her. He then asked for an honest opinion.

“Do I seem like I’m unhappy with my life?”

The seriousness of his tone made her a little uncomfortable. Without knowing the reason behind the question, Nancy replied, “Daniel, you seem too busy working to be unhappy about anything.”

Daniel paused in thought, taking in her words.

“But do you think I’d be happier if I wasn’t, you know, alone?”

Nancy now knew where he was headed with the questions. She cared for him as much as any member of her family but didn’t want to travel down such a personal road with him and tried to dodge any serious conversation.

“Well, I’ve been married twice, and there are some mornings I wish I had learned from my first mistake.”

She smiled and Daniel let her off the hook, for now, ending the conversation with, “Fair enough.”

He studied the picture of himself with Art and his family. Then it hit him. Nancy was thinking what Art was thinking. That was probably what most people in the office were thinking. Deep down, he knew they were all right.

He waited long enough, if not too long, to make a trip upstairs and speak with Art about his manners the day before. He had made it to his feet when Nancy announced over his speakerphone, “Line one. It’s the attorney again.”

His first thought was to request that a message be taken so he could deal with the guilt of yesterday that had caused him such a restless sleep. However, his mixture of curiosity and frustration with the repeated contact attempts forced him back to his chair to finally take the call.

“Daniel Clay speaking.”

“Mr. Clay, it’s Martin Stines calling from Stines and Becker. I’m sorry to bother you again, but this matter is nearing a close after several months of pro bono work, and we’re trying to clear it from our books.”

Mr. Stines spoke swiftly, in part to get all his words heard, but also because of his nervousness on the phone. Though a stranger to Daniel, Martin was well aware of who Daniel was in the business community. Martin had heard stories about Daniel’s accomplishments that were only slightly exaggerated at some networking functions.

“Well, how can I help you, Mr. Stines? As I’m sure my secretary informed you before, I’ve never heard of the man whose estate you are handling.”

“I realize that, Mr. Clay, but trust me, he was your uncle. We’ve done all our due diligence on this end.”

Before picking up the phone, Mr. Stines had read from all the notes he had put together. He always needed preparation and practice to make sure that all points would be covered during such conversations, in case he became flustered. He had faults, but his knowledge of them, and honesty with himself, allowed him to function at a reasonably professional level.

“Our research shows he lived in England most of his life. A small firm over there contacted us through the Internet to locate the beneficiaries of his estate in the United States. I’m sorry about the loss of your parents. It must have been a difficult time for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stines.” He quickly cut the lawyer off. Rehashing the painful memory of the early loss of his parents wasn’t something that he liked to do alone, much less discuss with a stranger.

“Now really, what can I do to help?”

“Well, all we need is a couple of signatures, confirmation of identity, and the house is yours, Mr. Clay.”

Daniel paused and made sure he had heard the revelation accurately.

“House?”

“Yes, your uncle’s house passes down to you as the sole living beneficiary.”

What started a moment ago as a suspected solicitation call was now a two-way conversation, and Daniel’s interest was piqued.

“Well, where is it?”

“It’s in England.”

Daniel was curious now but attempted to remain outwardly uninterested.

“How much is it worth?”

“Well, an appraisal was never done since the property was lien-free, and there were no other debts to be paid through the estate. I could probably arrange one to be done, if you would accept the bill.”

Though more involved now in the conversation, Daniel wasn’t about to make any financial commitments without doing a little homework of his own.

“Well, maybe later. Do you have any pictures?”

“Yes, I had some sent with the file. If you like, I could supply them with the forms for signature.”

“Yes, please. What’s your address? I’ll come over after lunch to give you whatever you need.”

Daniel wrote the address on a notepad. He vaguely recognized the street name. It wasn’t an area he would otherwise stop in; it was an area you would find an alternative path around when traveling across the city. He hung up wondering if he should have inquired more about the relation this man had to his family tree, but it was best to ask someone he knew better. Art was the one person on his mind he needed to talk with this morning anyway.

“Nancy, can you check to see if Art’s in a meeting?”

“Right away.”

Nancy had access to appointment calendars and schedules for all of the firm’s board members on her computer, a tool that came in handy on many occasions.

“Sorry, he’s out of the office today. Do you want me to put you in his calendar for tomorrow? There are some empty blocks showing in the morning.”

“Please, and first thing, if possible.”

Daniel knew he could call Art anytime on the cell phone that Art’s wife Linda had given him. She insisted that he carry it for emergency reasons. Apparently, it was a highly recommended practice, according to the talk show host Linda watched daily.

Even calling the home at night would have been acceptable. But why bother him on his time when Daniel was the only one of the two most likely to lose another night’s sleep over the ordeal? It could wait another day.

Near the day’s end, after almost a dozen calls, another rushed lunch at his desk, and two afternoon appointments for portfolio reviews, Nancy jogged his memory and reminded him to stop by the attorney’s office. She had seen the notepad on his desk earlier and trusted her instincts that a reminder would be in order.

Alert now, he asked her to call ahead and advise Mr. Stines that he was en route, as though he had left much earlier. He then gave Nancy a few instructions for the morning and headed toward the elevator.

“Oh, Nancy, what did the market close at today?”

“I think it was either up or down from yesterday,” Nancy replied jokingly.

This was something she had heard him state numerous times when talking with clients, often trying to settle their nerves with a little humor. It was common for a new client to call the day after a large equity purchase. Investors tended to check the newspaper for the stock prices and compare them to what they had paid only a day before.

Fifty percent of the time it goes up the next day, but these clients would never call. No matter how many times a new client was advised not to track a twenty-year or even five-year investment day by day, it seemed almost human nature to peek. Of course, 50 percent of the time, it would have gone down the next day. As a result, there were always a few clients that forgot the rule and picked up the phone with concerns.

Long-standing clients never made that call, at least not more than once in the beginning.

Glancing at the sign in front of the law office of Stines and Becker, he shook his head and questioned what he’d gotten himself into. He wondered if a courier or some method of current technology could have been used to handle the signing of such documents.

Outside the office, the streets were scattered with garbage. A neighbor of the building was reorganizing his precious belongings in the shopping cart he had pushed throughout the day. He moved cautiously while gathering more treasures that had been left in garbage bins, by people more fortunate and certainly less concerned about the refund payable on bottles and cans.

Inside the building sat a worn-out, balding man. Pieces of his last meal were still dangling from his unkempt facial hair. He was slightly shorter than Art in stature and had him covered by at least forty pounds. Once he noticed he was no longer alone, he stood and began to brush himself off.

“You must be Mr. Clay,” he said as he extended his hand. He had been waiting hours for the late arrival, although he always had some pending court case to keep himself busy. Most of his time, though, was typically spent on case studies from his old school days.

“That’s right, and you must be the notorious Mr. Stines.”

This frightened Stines. He didn’t understand the comment, and Daniel instantly noticed.

“I just mean notorious as in the guy who’s been calling me every day for weeks.”

The explanation put Mr. Stines at ease. He always assumed he wasn’t the type to be well-known, or spoken of, in any circle of the profession. He was correct.

“This is a pretty small office you guys have here, barely room for a Becker.”

Mr. Stines agreed but avoided the topic, purposely failing to mention that Becker was actually his wife’s maiden name, which he had borrowed in order to make his company sound more professional.

“Well, I won’t keep you, Mr. Clay. I just need you to sign these forms, and I’ll copy your picture identification. I will have the documents sworn and delivered through the courts this week. Oh and here are the pictures you requested. Looks like a nice old place.”

Daniel still acted somewhat uninterested in the whole affair and put them in his pocket without viewing them. Mr. Stines again became a little nervous and avoided eye contact.

“You know, Mr. Clay, as I said on the phone, this was a file that I—I mean, we took on pro bono. Sometimes, we do this kind of work in hopes it will lead to, you know, other work and stuff.”

Daniel smiled. “Are you asking for referrals, Mr. Stines?”

The attorney couldn’t lift his head. He was too busy struggling to read the small text he had scripted down on the corner of wasted paper. This was a chance to build his business, and the guys in the networking club had been coaching him for a week to get it right. Concern overwhelmed his mind. Did he read it right? Did it come across like they said it would?

He knew Daniel was used to being wined and dined for referrals. Gifts from large corporate attorneys laced with kickbacks and priceless tickets to any sporting event in the big city were things he didn’t have, so the old-fashioned approach of simply asking would surely be considered an embarrassment.

“Give me some of your cards, then. I’ll see if anyone in the office is in the need of a good attorney.”

Mr. Stines was in shock, and his chin quivered just enough to shake the last of the crumbs from its hair. Shaky handed, he tendered over a pile of cards, far more than what would seem normal to anyone previously having had this experience. He struggled to keep his composure and tried to understand how his request had just succeeded, after years of failure. Wait until the guys in the networking group heard about this one!

With that, Daniel thanked Mr. Stines for all his work and teased him again about his unrelenting attempts to contact him.

“Well, if persistence pays in your business, you’ll be a wealthy man, Mr. Stines.”

Daniel tried to sound comforting to the gentleman, who was dwarfed beside his powerful young frame. He felt sorry for him but didn’t spend any time thinking about what he could actually do to help. His mind was consumed with sorting through the events at the office, and adding an inherited house overseas now made him act out of his usual character. Concerned even more about escaping the area, he left the building and headed straight to his car. The business cards that Mr. Stine had handed over with so much hope and optimism ended up thoughtlessly delivered into the garbage bin on the street’s curb.