My father called the following afternoon.
I was feeding Kirk when his name appeared on the screen.
I finished what I was doing before answering.
“Florence.”
“Dad.”
“I think we need to speak in person.”
I looked toward the folder on the kitchen table.
“About the transfer?”
“About the company and the situation you've created around it.”
I let the wording pass.
“When?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. Come to the house.”
“Will the meeting include an explanation of why you want my shares?”
He paused.
“I will explain what needs explaining.”
It was not the answer I wanted, but it was more than he had offered the previous day.
“All right,” I said. “I'll come.”
“Bring the documents.”
“I will.”
“And please don't bring an audience.”
I understood that he meant my adviser.
“I won't bring her.”
“Good. We can settle this as a family.”
The call ended before I could ask anything else.
I remained seated with Kirk in my arms.
The house had been part of my life for so long that I could picture every room without closing my eyes.
I knew which stair creaked near the landing.
I knew the dining-room chair my father preferred.
I knew the exact place at the table where Raymond sat when my father discussed the business.
I also knew how quickly a conversation could change when I asked a question my father did not want to answer.
For several minutes, I considered refusing the invitation.
Then I reminded myself that I had agreed to hear him.
I did not have to agree to anything else.
That evening, I called my adviser and told her about the meeting.
She suggested that I bring the documents, take notes, and avoid signing anything before we had finished reviewing the terms.
I wrote those reminders at the top of a fresh page.
I also wrote the questions I wanted answered.
Why was the transfer necessary now?
Why did it require my twelve percent?
What would I lose by signing?
Would the transfer be permanent?
What would happen if I refused?
I looked at the list until the words began to feel familiar.
Then I placed it inside the folder.
Kirk's father helped me prepare Kirk's things for the next day.
He checked the diaper bag while I folded a spare blanket.
Neither of us knew how long the meeting would last.
“I can stay with Kirk if you want to go alone,” he offered.
I thought about it.
“I'd rather take him with me.”
“Then take him.”
I appreciated that he left the choice with me.
He did not tell me that bringing the baby would make my parents feel guilty.
He did not suggest using Kirk to make a point.
I wanted him with me because he was my son, and I was not going to behave as if his existence were something I had to hide.
The next afternoon, I drove to my parents' house.
Kirk slept in his car seat until I lifted him out.
I carried him inside with the diaper bag over my shoulder and the folder tucked beneath my arm.
My mother opened the door.
Her eyes went first to Kirk, then to the folder.
“You brought everything?”
“Yes.”
She stepped aside.
“Your father is in the study.”
I followed her down the hallway.
The house smelled of furniture polish and the flowers she kept near the front window.
Everything was in its usual place.
That was part of what made the visit difficult.
The house looked unchanged, even though I no longer felt certain about the rules I had followed there.
My father stood beside his desk.
Raymond sat in the chair near the bookcase.
I had not expected him to be there, but I did not ask why.
My mother closed the study door behind us.
My father gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.
I sat with Kirk in my arms.
The folder rested on my knees.
For a few moments, no one spoke.
Then my father said, “I want to get this matter resolved.”
“So do I.”
“Your refusal has created unnecessary uncertainty.”
I took a breath.
“I'm willing to discuss the transfer. I still need to understand why it is necessary.”
He folded his hands on the desk.
“We have discussed this.”
“We've discussed the need for a clear structure. I don't understand why that structure requires my shares.”
Raymond shifted in his chair.
My father glanced at him, then back at me.
“The company needs its ownership arrangements simplified.”
“What part of the current arrangement prevents that?”
His expression tightened.
“You are not responsible for running the company.”
“I know that.”
“Then you should understand why decisions of this kind need to be made by people with experience.”
“I understand that the company has experienced people. I still need to know what I'm agreeing to.”
My mother moved closer to the desk.
“Florence, your father is trying to help everyone move forward.”
“I haven't said he isn't.”
“Then why do you keep challenging him?”
I looked at her.
“Because I'm being asked to give up something I own.”
My father tapped one finger against the desk.
“This is not a sentimental matter.”
“I haven't made it sentimental.”
“You are treating a straightforward business decision as though it were a personal attack.”
“I am asking for the business reason.”
He leaned back.
“The business needs certainty.”
“What uncertainty does my ownership create?”
He did not answer immediately.
I waited.
He looked toward Raymond.
Raymond stared at the floor.
Finally, my father said, “It is a matter of structure and future planning.”
I looked at the list in my folder.
“That still doesn't explain why my twelve percent needs to be transferred now.”
My father raised his voice slightly.
“You keep returning to the same question.”
“Because I still don't have an answer.”
My mother gave a disapproving shake of her head.
I felt the familiar pressure in my chest.
I wanted to apologize for making the room uncomfortable.
I wanted to say that I trusted my father and that he could decide what was best.
But I had brought the folder for a reason.
I opened it and took out the transfer agreement.
“I've had the documents reviewed,” I said. “I need to understand the consequences before I sign.”
My father looked at the pages as if I had placed something offensive on his desk.
“You hired an adviser.”
“Yes.”
“Against your own family?”
“To help me understand the agreement.”
“Do you think I would ask you to sign something harmful?”
“I don't know what the agreement means in every respect. That's why I asked for advice.”
Raymond finally spoke.
“Dad is not trying to take advantage of you.”
“I haven't said that.”
“You're acting as though he is.”
“I'm acting as though the decision matters.”
My father pushed his chair back slightly.
“The company cannot be run around one person's questions.”
“I am not asking the company to run around me. I am asking for an explanation before I give up my ownership.”
My mother folded her arms.
“You could make this so much easier.”
“I know.”
The words came out quietly.
For the first time, I did not say them as an apology.
I meant that I knew I could make the room more comfortable by signing.
I knew I could stop the calls and the accusations.
I knew I could give them what they wanted and return to being the daughter who never made her father explain himself.
But easier was not the same as right.
My father pointed toward the agreement.
“If you trust me, sign it.”
I looked at him.
“I want to be able to trust you and understand the decision at the same time.”
His face hardened.
“Then you have made your choice.”
“No,” I said. “I have made a decision not to sign yet.”
He stared at me.
I kept my hands still on the folder.
I had come to listen.
I had listened.
The meeting had not answered my questions.
My father stood and walked to the window.
My mother looked at Raymond as if she expected him to rescue the conversation.
He did not.
I placed the agreement back inside the folder.
“I'll continue the review with my adviser,” I said. “If there is a specific business reason for the transfer, I am willing to consider it when I understand it.”
My father remained facing the window.
“You are making this much bigger than it needs to be.”
“I hope it doesn't need to be big.”
He said nothing.
I stood carefully, keeping Kirk close to my chest.
My mother opened the study door.
“Your father is very disappointed in you.”
I had heard those words before.
They had once been enough to make me turn around and take back anything I had said.
This time, I only nodded.
“I understand that he's disappointed.”
I walked through the hallway and out the front door.
The air outside was cooler than it had been when I arrived.
I settled Kirk into his car seat and checked that his blanket was secure.
Then I placed the folder on the passenger seat.
I did not feel triumphant.
I felt sad, tired, and uncertain about what would happen next.
But the agreement was still unsigned.
And I had not promised to surrender something I did not yet understand.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: I Had Spent My Whole Life Waiting for My Father’s Approval, Until I Realized I Could Make This Decision Without It
My Parents Came to See Their First Grandson, but the First Thing They Brought Into My Hospital Room Was an Ultimatum
Part 15 of 16
