the feeling in that time.”
I stared at him. My dad never said stuff like this.
“I like her. Is there a reason you’re keeping it under wraps?”
“Besides that it’s new? Not really.” I nudged him with my elbow. “Done stalling, old man?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re so damn competitive. No idea where you got that from.”
I laughed.
We’d been playing racquetball since my early teens. For a while there we’d been evenly matched. But the older Dad got, the slower he got, so our games weren’t as rigorous as in years past. After I trounced him the first game, and he was sweating and had lost some color, I’d made him sit and hydrate.
Of course, he grumbled the entire time. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, kid. I get enough of that at LI.”
I snorted. “After the last round with Ash and Brady I’m the one walking around on damn eggshells.”
He mopped his face with the towel. “I know we have a policy of not talking business outside of work, but I get the feeling you’re really unhappy with some of the recent decisions.”
“Any disagreement I’ve had with decisions stem from the full autonomy the executive board has been accorded. I’ve made some mistakes, but I’ve owned up to them and dealt with the backlash. As far as I can tell, Brady and Ash don’t believe they’ve made wrong decisions. When I bring up the financial facts, then I’m told I don’t see the whole picture. If I’m wrong, I’d like someone to explain to me why, and so far, no one has bothered.”
“Nolan, why haven’t you come to me with this?”
“Because I don’t want to be the guy who goes running to Daddy when I don’t feel like I’m getting a fair shake. I’ve tried to fight my own battles. I’ve given detailed financial rebuttals for recent acquisitions decisions I’ve vehemently opposed. But the fact you don’t know anything about all the work I’ve put in means they aren’t taking my concerns seriously enough to bring them up with you.” I swigged from my water bottle. “And I get that this situation is somewhat of my own making, given that in the past I haven’t been as dedicated to the company as I should’ve been. Again, this is not an excuse, but everyone assumed Jax would come back and learn the ropes to take over the CEO position when you’re ready to retire. Only I knew you had doubts about Jax’s interest in that. But I felt like you had doubts about me too.”
He sighed. “I get where you’re coming from. And maybe I have rubber-stamped some of their recommendations because Brady and Ash aren’t usually wrong.” He stood and spun his racquet around, ready to play again. “Tell you what. Send me everything you’ve considered a red flag. I’ll look into them.”
Another pat on the head. I half wondered what he was hiding. Opting to ignore the convo, I got back to my feet. “Thank you, sir.”
“Sir. Ha. Serve, smartass.”
We’d played five points when Dad lowered to his knees. At first I thought the ball had struck him. But when he crashed to his side on the floor, I knew something was wrong.
I dropped beside him. “Dad!”
His face had gone gray and he was clutching his left side. His eyes were wild and he tried to speak.
“Don’t move. I’m getting help.” I tried to remember everything I’d read about what to do when someone was having a heart attack but my mind went blank.
I hit the emergency button on the speaker for the intercom system. “Call 911 and an ambulance. My dad is having a heart attack or a stroke or something.”
Several excruciating long moments passed before I heard, “Ambulance is en route.”
“Thank you.
By the time I’d returned to my dad’s side, he’d gone limp.
Fuck.
I searched for—and found—a pulse in his neck. He was breathing. We were in a metro area so he had a good chance at survival. I kept telling myself that because I couldn’t accept anything else.
“Dad. Stay with me. Help is on the way.”
Nothing.
I grabbed his hand. “I’m here. Just hold on.” I kept talking to him, watching for changes in his breathing, keeping my fingers over the pulse point in his wrist to assure myself his heart hadn’t quit.
Time didn’t register and then the ambulance crew was there, loading him up. I yelled at the country club attendant, “Call Edie Lund. Her name is on file. Tell her to meet us at”—I looked