"You take care of yourself, Cameron. Other people can mind their own business. You have a plan, a purpose. Other people are just doing their best to find theirs. Let them."
I shook my head, looking down. I didn't think he got it, but there was no use arguing with him. At the end of the day, he was right. All I could do was mind my own business; it was the best use of my time in any case. I had a job. In the future, I'd have his job; that should have been more than enough to keep me busy. It had been mine since before I had been born. I didn't know whether to feel duped or lucky. Everyone had a role to play, and this was mine. I could complain, but if I didn't do it, who would?
I was born in Salt Lake City and had lived most of my life in Utah. There had been the years I had spent in California for college, but it had always been the plan to come back. No complaints from me as far as that was concerned. I liked it, preferred it actually to the bigger cities I'd lived in. Being close to my parents had always been a priority, and they weren't going anywhere, so neither had I. My parents still lived in the home I'd grown up in, in Holladay, but I had moved to Provo after renting a place in Salt Lake for a couple years after graduating. Salt Lake City was no Vegas, but I preferred the slower, quieter vibe smaller cities had. Provo was smaller than Salt Lake and less populated. Fewer people meant the neighborhoods weren’t as crowded. I had my own place, and most of my neighbors were older people and families. If a house in the middle of isolated ranchland was a feasible option for me, I would have taken it, but it wasn’t, so I’d settled for the next best thing.
It was a bit of a drive, almost an hour to get from my place to my parents’ house, but it was worth it. Instead of heading home after work, I decided to take my dad up on his offer to have dinner at their house. They were flying out to Greece that weekend, so I wouldn't be able to see them for a while. I saw my dad every day at work, but it wasn't the same with my mother. She ran an art gallery in Salt Lake City, and unless I went to the house, we didn't have that many visits. She answered the door when we got there, hugging me and taking dad's coat from him as we came inside.
We had shown up a little early; dinner wasn't ready yet. My dad headed upstairs, but mom had been cooking. I followed her into the kitchen. She cooked a lot more now than she had in the past when I had been a kid. They had a housekeeper, and always had, but I remembered as a kid, always cleaning my plate when my mother cooked, partly because she would always let me help when I asked her.
She had on an apron over her calf-length skirt and coral blouse. Throughout my life, we had always eaten meals together at the table, no exceptions. They hadn’t given me an easy time, Grayson and Evangeline Porter. They were easy going ‘til you crossed them and did not suffer fools. I felt like I had turned out okay. Both of them had experienced huge successes professionally, and look at that: they hadn’t turned into power-crazed degenerates.
"Smells good in here. Need any help?" I asked her. She put on som
e oven mitts and opened the oven to look at whatever she had cooking inside.
"Grab a bottle of red from the cellar from me?" she asked, pulling a skillet out of the oven. It had three browned, glazed duck breasts on it. The kitchen was big enough that as a kid, I had been able to sit at the island and watch her cook without getting in her way. The cellar was just off the kitchen, temperature controlled, filled to the ceiling with racks of wine that my parents had collected over their thirty plus years together. I picked out a pinot noir to be safe and went back to the kitchen.
"How's this?" I asked, showing her the bottle. She looked up from the salad she was preparing.
"Good pick," she said appreciatively. "I got your father that one on our last trip to Paris." I searched for a corkscrew to get it open.
"You excited for your trip this weekend?"
"It's been a long time coming," she said. "I think we both need the time off. Especially your father. How was work?" she asked.
I shrugged, pulling the cork free from the bottle. "Same as it always is."
"One more time, with feeling," she said, teasing me. It wasn't a secret that I didn't have the same passion for real estate that my father did. Passion was just one part of the equation, and passion could be built. I hadn't gotten that far with my efforts, but one day...yeah, one day.
"What would I have to do to get dad to hear me out about work? All this stuff about me replacing him?" I asked.
"Cameron, you and your father have been working together for years now. After him, you're the most prepared for the responsibility."
"If he could train me to do it, he could train someone else to. I don't want it. It's his thing. Not mine."
She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron and untying it. "He's not asking you to do it tomorrow, or even a year from now. The handover is going to take time, and he is going to be there every step of the way supporting you if you need him."
"I don't want it, Mom. I can't. I can't take this thing he's worked his whole life for. I can't give ten, twenty more years to this."
She leaned on the counter, looking at me. She didn't have any grays unless she got them colored and I didn't know about it. Her warm, blonde waves were pinned back. She had a classically beautiful face, which had aged gracefully. "It's always been your father's dream for you, Cam."
I shook my head at her. "A while ago, that had been a good enough reason. Now... I know I can't do it for him. Not in the way he'd need me to."
"Think about it," she said, coming up to me. "Take a couple weeks and think it over. If you tell him you don't want to take over the company, he's going to want to know what you intend to do instead."
"I know."
"Just wait. Wait ‘til we're back from Greece then tell him. He...he's going to be upset, but you have to understand where he's coming from. You're his only son, which makes him proud and terrifies him at the same time. He loves you, and this was how he knew how to show you that."
I nodded. In its own way, it made sense. If he laid a path for me himself, he'd never have to worry about me, but it didn't work like that. I loved him too, and if he wanted to show me that, he'd let me make those decisions. I could wait. They would only be gone ten days. After that, I was telling him.
Chapter Two
Natalie
I dropped the sun visor and looked at my reflection in the tiny mirror. I pulled a lipstick out of my purse and carefully drew it over my mouth. Living as far away as I did from work, sometimes I had to get creative with my time. Moments like this, I felt so proud of the decision I had made a year ago to move out of Salt Lake. Get stuck in traffic because you took too long curling your hair in the morning, or improvise in your car before work and get there on time. My hair looked fine. It looked great, in fact, because I had actually done it that morning before leaving the house. Makeup wasn't a requirement for showing up to work, but let's be real: it totally was. One of those unwritten rules. I didn't wear much. Foundation, lipstick, blush, and some mascara, and I could make it work, but it wasn't that glamorous getting ready in your car.
Well, you know what to do, Nat, I thought, shave your head or get up earlier. I grabbed my purse off the passenger seat, checked my face one last time, then got out of the car. I'd stop by the bathroom to make sure everything looked okay. It was only Tuesday, way too early in the week to be this stressed out. I checked my reflection in the elevator mirror discreetly as I got on. It was a long way up to twenty-fifth floor. I had been at the job for just over a couple years, one year since I had become in-house counsel and moved into my office. Coming off the elevator, I stopped at the bathroom for one last head-to-toe evaluation.