Chapter Eighteen: Old Man

I hadn’t been here in years, and immediately felt like a kid. The big bookcases, the leather chairs, the dark mahogany… It was exactly the same. It seemed slightly smaller, but I had grown. And I do mean “slightly,” because the office took up most of the floor. I knew that the corridor I had come from had a public bathroom, and that there was a private one off my father’s office. Otherwise, this floor was for Gerald’s small office and then my father’s tribute to himself.

While there were a lot of books, the shelves also prominently displayed photographs of my father. He was shaking hands with eight successive mayors, one president, three governors. There were pictures of him receiving awards, opening buildings, and meeting celebrities.

He sat, not behind his desk, but in one of the reading chairs along the side of the room. Another was at a comfortable distance from him, positioned for a quiet conversation. He stood up, buttoning his black suit jacket.

“Good afternoon, Diggory.”

“Hello, Father.”

I crossed the distance and shook hands with him. His shake was still powerful. And, why not? He was just barely past fifty and took care of himself. He gestured for me to sit, and settled himself back down in his chair, unbuttoning his jacket as he did so.

I would have asked why he did that, but my father had told me years before. Presentation was everything. Sitting with the jacket unbuttoned kept the lines from rumpling, while doing it up while standing was to appear dignified and precise. My rolled-up sleeves and casual look in my own office would never impress my father.

“I understand that you’ve taken some real initiative with the Colorado project.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Christopher Geertz tells me you’re the best lawyer in his department.”

“If he says so.”

“He does.”

I sat silently. I wanted to drum my fingers on the arms of the chair, but fought the impulse. I just waited for him to say something else. That had been the rule at home. Answer questions, and then wait.

“I’ve reviewed the department’s past six months. He’s right. No one logs as many hours, finishes as many contracts, visits as many clients… You seem to live for your work, Diggory.”

“Yes, sir. I want to do my best.”

Here my father almost smiled. “Your mother thinks you’re working too hard.”

“Mother has never worked.” It slipped out. I really hadn’t stopped to think, and then realized I meant what I said. She wasn’t really in a position to judge.

“No, she hasn’t. She has never understood what we have in common.”

I blinked. Did my father just compare the two of us? That was unheard of.

“Pardon?”

“We have ambition. I noted it when you were young. You set your mind on what you wanted to accomplish, and then devised the means. I may not always have approved of your goals, but I certainly noticed the work ethic.”

He shocked me further. “I’m proud of you, Son.”

I sat back in the chair, and the world became a blur for a moment. I almost lost the thread of conversation, and it took a moment to register what he was saying next.

“After the Colorado deal is finished, I’m going to expect a lot more from you. Christopher didn’t realize it at the time, but admitting that you were the best lawyer in the building sealed his fate. You’ll be replacing him in two years, three at the most. Had he protested, tried to defend his own prowess, I might give him a chance. But he just blithely agreed. So, his job is yours, if you can keep things going.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Your mother wishes to congratulate you as well. Come for dinner on Friday, she’s having people over.”

“The country house?”

“No, the apartment in the city. She wants to go to the theatre this weekend. That will be all.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” I got up to leave, heading for the big doors.

“Oh, and Diggory?” I turned to look back at him. “Bring that young lady you’re seeing.”

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