I have to leave for a meeting now, but I’ll try to write again soon.
Love,
Richard
An hour later, Richard made it to the makeshift conference room at the top of Maxwell Industry’s newly rented office building. The remaining members of the advisory board were standing around in clusters, talking rapidly, their eyes wide as they exchanged stories of the day their lives changed irrevocably. The majority of them hadn’t been in the office on the morning of the crash, but the shock of their near miss remained etched on their faces as they chattered, their eyes sliding over to Richard as he entered the room. They were sizing him up as a potential replacement for Leon Maxwell.
Taking a deep breath, Richard squared his shoulders and walked to the head of the conference table, keeping his pace even and measured. He pulled the chair out, deliberately scraping it loudly across the floor, making all eyes turn his way.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I suggest we start. We have a business to run.” As they all sat down, Richard remained standing, moving his eyes around the room. He looked at each board member in turn. Some of them appeared skeptical, others hopeful. The cannier amongst them kept their expressions blank as they glanced back at him, making it hard for him to read their features.
“As you all know, Leon Maxwell, the owner of this company, is missing, presumed dead. In his absence, I am here representing the new owners: my stepbrother, my mother, and myself.
“I can see there are some among you who remain unconvinced that I can step into his shoes and turn the fortunes of this company around. To those people, I say; either you are with me, or you are against me. If you don’t want to work here, I’m very happy to accept your resignation right now.”
Richard paused, his eyes scanning the room again to see if any of them would take him up on his offer.
They all remained silent.
“I’m glad we’ve got that settled. Just like my stepfather, I expect you to work hard, and I demand your loyalty. Our business has suffered a huge body-blow in the past week, as has America. But the camaraderie and the determination I have seen out there on the streets has been absolutely amazing. If we can channel that same grit right here into this company, then I truly believe that we can rebuild this company brick by brick, and make it an enterprise that Leon Maxwell would justifiably be proud of.”
Richard noticed a few heads nodding at his words. He remained stoic, not allowing himself to sigh or even show a flicker of emotion as he spoke to them. He didn’t dare demonstrate any weakness.
“Now, I’d like you all to go out there and motivate your people. I’ll be meeting with you individually, and we’ll be making plans for the future. In the meantime, I look forward to working with each and every one of you.”
Thanking them for their time, Richard finally allowed himself to sit down, trying to hide the trembling in his legs. They all started to clap, standing up to give him a heartfelt ovation.
The first person to actually approach him was Joe Garfield, the chief financial officer. A close confidante of Leon’s, Joe’s face was drawn down in grief as he shook Richard’s hand, muttering the usual trite condolences as he looked him straight in the eye.
“Thank you, sir.” Richard replied, wondering how, in the space of a few days, he had turned into a man that everybody was looking to, someone who was supposed to know how to run a multi-billion dollar business.
Joe must have clocked the nervousness in Richard’s face, or perhaps it was the shaking of his hand as they clasped his own. Either way, the older man took pity on him.
“If any of these fuck-ups give you trouble, come and see me. I’ll give you every bit of support I can.”
“I’m grateful for your backing. Thank you.”
Glancing down at the sheet of paper in front of him, Richard could see his temporary assistant had already set up individual meetings with board members. His entire day was filled, right up until 8:00 p.m. that evening. It was clear his life was no longer his own.
To fail at this, would be to let down thousands of people, employees and customers and shareholders that were relying on him to make this company a success.
That was not an option.
Eight
June 29th 2002
“What’s this?” Josh picked up the package from her bed as Hanna continued to pack her backpack, stuffing things in as tightly as possible.
Hanna glanced over as she watched him pull the t-shirt out of the packaging. It fell open in front of him revealing the vintage 1973 New York Dolls band tee Richard had sent her.
“It’s a present from Richard.”
“I don’t like the way he keeps sending you things.” Josh let it fall back onto her bed, flicking his fingers as if he was trying to remove any traces of the gift from them. “It’s weird.”
Hanna stopped packing, leaning over to brush his cheek with her hand. “He’s just a friend, Josh.”
“Friends don’t send friends gifts worth hundreds of pounds, Hanna. He clearly fancies you. Christ, the guy can hardly take his eyes off you.”