work. You’ll be begging for your job back in six months.” His father thought his dream of becoming a town leader was foolish. “So did you get the funeral set?” His father held his frown, but he was clearly concerned. He’d been shaky and red-eyed since he heard that Abbott was dead. The two men had been fraternity brothers at MIT, then business associates for almost thirty years, with Ryland Engineering supplying parts to Wharton Electronics.
Then his father’s business had failed. Abbott bought it, retooled the plant and turned it around, making a fortune. Believing Abbott had had insider information and had robbed him, his father sued, lost, then appealed.
The ten-year feud between the two men and their companies had ended six months ago, thanks to years of work on Dylan’s part, when Ryland Engineering signed a contract to provide the drive circuitry assembly for the Wharton battery for electric and plug-in hybrid cars.
“I found town funds to pay for the buses, yeah.”
“You tell Rachel?”
“Yes. I saw her at the hospital. Tara was there, too.” His face felt hot. He hoped to hell it didn’t glow red.
“I’m surprised that one even showed.”
“Why would you say that?”
“She walked away from her family. Shook them off like water from a dog’s back.”
“She did what she had to do for herself.”
“For herself. Exactly. I’m glad we raised you better. Though I blame that on her mother, who spoiled her rotten. That’s what comes of thinking money makes you better.” Dylan had felt the friction between his father and Tara’s mother even as a kid when the families got together for picnics and card games. His father had always been sensitive about status and wealth.
Now, he turned a framed photo away from himself.
Dylan picked it up, recognizing it as the shot of his father and Abbott posing with a jet turbofan they’d first collaborated on. His father had designed the components and Wharton Electronics had assembled and sold it, back when the company engineered aeronautics equipment.
The photo usually sat high on a dusty shelf. His father had taken it down to reminisce, no doubt, though he would likely deny that to Dylan.
“Look at you two,” Dylan said.
“We look like fools,” his father said.
“It was the eighties. Everyone wore leisure suits.” The men’s expressions captured their personalities. Dylan’s father looked dazed and humble. A scholarship student at MIT, he hadn’t been able to believe his good fortune. Abbott looked relaxed and confident, knowing success was his birthright.
“Give me that.” His father looked at the picture. “I was the real fool. I should have known he would cheat me blind.”
“He saved you from bankruptcy.”
“He took advantage of me.” Dylan’s father, a dreamer caught up in his ideas, had gone into debt on R&D, failing to boost production to cover costs. Abbott had bought Ryland Engineering at a fair price, not a generous one. Abbott Wharton was a businessman first.
“Abbott knew how to spot trends, Dad.”
“Now you take his side?”
“I’m being realistic.”
Growing up, his father had lectured Dylan, pride ringing in his voice, about how he himself was proof that hard work and intelligence overcame wealth and privilege.
Abbott making a killing on his father’s failed business had destroyed his father’s belief, convinced him that wealth and class always ruled.
“Your mother wore the same blinders. I was a failure, while Abbott could do no wrong.” Dylan’s mother left—went back to her family in Iowa—because she couldn’t live with his father’s bitterness, though his father believed it was the shame of his failure.
His parents’ breakup at Christmas his senior year had shaken Dylan to the core. Love was supposed to last. His parents hadn’t even tried. They drew lines in the sand and folded their arms, stubbornly blaming each other.
They’d forced him to choose, too. He’d stayed with his father, the one who needed him most. His mother claimed to understand, but she’d been hurt.
“And, still, the man’s trying to cheat me from the grave.” His father stabbed a finger at the papers on his desk. “These specs are impossible.”
“We knew there would be kinks to smooth.” To reach this moment, Dylan had watched their profit margin like a hawk, held the line on R&D, no matter how hard his father pushed, and kept tabs on developments at Wharton.
When Abbott nailed the federal energy alternative grant to build the cheaper, lighter, more stable lithium battery his engineers had devised, Dylan made sure Ryland Engineering was positioned as the best provider of the crucial part.