Chapter 1

While avoiding Barbara Walters, I nearly knocked over an ice sculpture.

“Watch it, Janie!” My mother hissed from the circle she was entertaining. She paused just a moment, long enough for me—but no one else—to absorb her scolding eye and then she whipped her head back around creating a wave of freshly highlighted curls.

What could I say? I hated people who asked questions.

I realized very quickly that evening, wearing heels without breaking them in was a big mistake. The brand new soles were slippery against the floor, and I was struggling to walk. While I was studying my path for any signs of obstacles, like a discarded cocktail shrimp, I reached out for balance.

“Excuse me madam.” I looked up realizing I had reached out and grabbed the shoulder of one of the waiters. “Did you need a drink?”

“Yes, please.” I smiled apologetically and accepted a glass of white wine.

I continued to shuffle along the crust of the party, my eyes scanning the room. The music was bouncy with upbeat trumpets, while a singer, probably one of the rat pack, crooned, amplified by the marble floor. The candlelight and overwhelming chandeliers created a romantic mood for this New York evening. The ballroom was abuzz with chatter of who’s-who and what’s-what. Everyone was having a carefree time. Except me.

            “Where’s my dad?” I thought. As the party host, I was sure he was tucked away behind layers of tuxedoed “Yes Men,” but I just needed to get him alone for a few uninterrupted minutes. Instead, all I found was my forgotten date, Spence. He staggered up, threw his arm over my shoulders and pushed his face into my cheek, reminding me just how much he loved Jack Daniels.

            “Having a good time, sweets?” he breathed.

            “I’m fine, thanks.” I shrugged off his arm. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to deal with belligerence.

            “What’s wrong with you, Janie?”

There must have been someone else named Janie right over my shoulder, because that’s exactly where his glassed over eyes were looking. But, regardless, he did make me feel a little guilty; after all, it wasn’t his fault that he was always my date-by-default to these silly events. Because of the fact that I hadn’t had the best of luck with dating since…well, ever, I usually ended up bringing him; my tried-and-true-on-again-off-again ex. Right then, though, we were totally “off” and had been for weeks.

This time, I had invited him to my family’s annual Entrepreneurs’ Ball. Lucky for me, he looked nice in his tux, had shaved, and even managed to make his side burns fairly even.

            “I’m sorry, Spence. I just really need to talk to my dad.”

He cracked a lopsided smile and wiped the sweat off his upper lip.

            “Good luck getting him alone at this thing.” He said, using his drink to gesture around the room. “Well, I’m going to go to the little boy’s room.”

            With that, he stepped on my foot and disappeared into the crowd. I limped over to the bar area and left my unfinished wine on a table.

            I ran my fingers nervously through my hair, which as usual, was flat ironed straight. My friends were constantly telling me that I had the perfect hair for a “big and curly” look.

“If you showed up to an event with Kim Kardashian hair, you’d be all over those society papers.” My best friend, Veronica always used to say, but I brushed off the suggestion. For one thing, it would be a cruel joke to ever compare me to Kim, plus I had no idea how to accomplish anything Kardashian-esque. Therefore, I would just have to learn to live with my chestnut colored arrow straight style.

I never understood what the whole obsession was with making the society papers. Personally, I hated it, and all my girl friends thought I was completely nuts.

            Frankly, I preferred to have the media pay as little attention as possible to me, which wasn’t too difficult, considering who I was up against.

Speaking of the devil, I had just made eye contact with my brother, Peter, who spotted me from the group he was schmoozing and nodded for me to come over. As I got closer to the circle, I realized it was our Board of Directors. I say “our” but really it was my dad’s company and I was only loosely involved in it. I smiled tensely.

My brother, Peter Hightower, was President of Hightower International.  Apparently he was a one of a kind “Investment God”—at least according to a recent New York Times article. This was great for our company as well as Peter’s ego. According to him, he was just living up to his self designed business cards, which simply had his name, email, and the word “Genius” printed in black lettering across the center. No kidding, he designed them himself and handed them out all over the damn East Side, but I guess he was entitled to do so, since technically he was one: a genius. So were my other two siblings, Stanley and Caroline. I mean literally, off-the-charts, geniuses.

“Janie, you remember the Board don’t you?” Peter asked. “Mr. Frank Basset, here, is looking for our father. Do you know where he can be found?”

            “I’ve been looking for him all night!” my voice broke and my stomach sank. It looked like I would be waiting in line for time with Dad. I realized a party wasn’t the best setting for a serious talk, but I needed to get to him…before someone else did…

            Peter leaned over and spoke softly into my ear. “So I hear things are a little rough for you and Dad right now. I can imagine he’s going to be pretty upset when he hears the news.”

…before someone like Peter.

            I stopped short and looked him dead in the eye. My face was hot yet frozen. Peter let past a hint of a smirk causing his fat cheeks to squeeze around his wire rimmed glasses, which I always thought were too small for his face.

I smoothed out my dress and attempted to regain my composure.

            “Everything is going to be fine.” I said through gritted teeth. But, really I wanted to stomp on his foot and call him out about why the hell he was nursing a Riesling when the bar was overflowing with Glenlevitt Scotch , but I supposed holding up such a manly drink might strain his tennis elbow and he’s probably fresh out of Bengay, and speaking of being gay…

            “Jane, my dear, maybe we can search for your father together.” Frank Basset said, gently touching my elbow. I broke my gaze at Peter and wondered if I glowered too obviously.

Peter wasn’t actually gay. He had a blonde-bombshell-super-model-trophy-wife. What she lacked in intelligence she made up for with boobs and kindness. She was the perfect yin to Peter’s yang.

I took a cleansing breath, which did little for my increasing anxiety.

            Frank led me away and I could hear the conversation of “portfolios” and “black out days” fading into the background.

            “So, how is your family?” he asked.

            “Wonderful, thank you. Caroline is still a Medical Engineer at Pfizer.”

            Frank continued, “Excellent, and when can the Board expect to see another amazing proposal from your brother Stanley? It’s been a while, since we’ve seen anything new from him, you know.”

            “That, I know nothing about.”

Frank fixed his gaze on me. I then realized that his intentions were not merely small talk for my benefit, so I sighed and explained. “He keeps his work very private. We never know what he’s working on or when it will be done. He’s secretive.”

            Apparently unsatisfied, Frank caught my elbow and stopped walking. He stepped closer, and breathed cigar breath in my face.

            “But, I hear that you and he are especially close and he usually shares his work with you before anyone else.”

            “That’s because he knows I’m trustworthy.” I gave Frank a hard look hoping he would back off from the questions, but from the look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t budging. My jaw tightened.

I hate people who ask questions!

I didn’t know what Basset was digging for or why he couldn’t wait like the rest of the Board.

            “I’m sorry to tell you, Frank, but for some reason, this time is different and Stanley hasn’t spoken to me about his work.”

It was entirely true. I had to admit, my brother had been acting very strange lately.

I set off. Frank caught up, and we continued our search in silence. I spied a promising group of men laughing boisterously and nursing cigars. I was about to point them out to Frank, but he must have had the same idea since he was already bounding toward the pack. I touched my cheeks to feel for heat, I was hoping they weren’t flooding with color as my annoyance grew.

 I hunted for a gap in the circle that I could possibly steal into. The conversation seemed centered around one person and I was pretty sure it was my dad. All I needed was for him to see me, and I knew he would make way.

I caught my break when the largest man of the group moved to shake hands with someone, and I finally spotted my dad standing in the middle of the crowd, laughing and looking like he was acting out a football play or something.

            Grace be damned! I was desperate! Seizing my opportunity, I dashed through the gap, turned my body sideways, but made the mistake of bending awkwardly. Things would have worked out if Mister Brick House didn’t decide to take his place back. His feet became intertwined with my ankles and—holy crap! I was falling! I held my breath and braced myself, but right before impact I felt a steady hand catch me, and I was pulled to my feet. I released the breath I was holding, and tried to hide my red face.

            “Easy there, darlin’.”

Daddy! I regained my footing and looked up to see him smiling. I couldn’t believe my luck.

Suddenly the entire crowd was coddling me.

            “Are you ok? How do you feel? That was almost a nasty fall!”

            “I’m alright! Really, I’m fine, thank you.” I smiled graciously. Dad gave my shoulders a squeeze.

            “This one here’s a little trooper. Nothing she can’t handle. Ain’t that right?”

I smiled up at him and nodded. Even though he had been living in New York for the past forty-something years, he’d made sure not to lose his Texas twang, and I wouldn’t know him any other way.

            “Dad, I’ve been looking for you all night.” I spoke into his ear.

            “I’m sorry, hon. What do you need?”

I started to open my mouth, but then somebody diverted his attention.

            “I’m headed to the bar, Tom, you want anything?” a man asked him.

            “No thanks, I’m good.”

I cleared my throat and pushed a tangled lock behind my ear.

            “Actually, Dad, can I talk to you in private?” I whispered.

Somebody else walked by and patted his shoulder, he stopped and smiled at whomever and then turned back to me. “I’m sorry sweetie, what did you say?”

            “I said, I need to speak to you in private. Can we go to your office?”

He was obviously not sensing my tension, because he was still hugging me like I was ten years old and grinning from ear to ear.

Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was more than a little perturbed to see it was Spence.

            “Hey, Janie! Is it ok if I steal you away for a little dance?”

I shot him a look that he obviously didn’t register. I think Spence was immune to annoyance. It’s called Open Bar Syndrome.

I ignored his outstretched hand.

            “Thanks, Spence, but I’d like to talk to my dad and….”

            “C’mon Janie! Dance with the boy!” Dad gave me a little push. “You’re young and beautiful, so enjoy yourself. I’ll be here waiting when you get done.”

            Yeah but by then it may be too late.

I bit my lip as Spence led me away and then we started to dance. His feet were about a half beat off and his arms must have been at a completely different party, because I didn’t know what rhythm they were picking up.

            “Spence!”

            “Huh?”

Siiigh. Calm down Janie.

            “Thanks for the dance, and all, but, you know I’ve been trying to find my dad all night.”

            “Yeah, and you found him.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Gee thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.”

Wait, did I just give him a compliment? This was really turning into a painfully long night, but honestly I only had myself to blame. After all, I brought a “two am” guy to an “eight pm” event.

            While we were lapping everyone on the dance floor, I looked over to check on my dad. Just then, my stomach dropped. Peter was standing over him whispering in his ear. I wasn’t sure if he was saying what I thought he was saying, until Dad frowned. Peter let go and raised his hands indicating that he was “just the messenger.”

            Even though he wasn’t looking my way, my eyes shot daggers at the back of Peter’s head. Extra sharp ones.

            “Keep up klutz.” Said Spence.

I whipped my gaze back to him. With what?! The music in your head?!

I was so angry right then, but I didn’t want to take it out on Spence, so, once again I just bit my lip and stewed.

I was brave before, but now I didn’t even want to go talk to my dad. I felt really hot, and needed a moment alone. The song ended and I excused myself, but was stopped short when someone behind me tapped my shoulder.

            My heart jumped up into my throat, and I turned around to my father staring me in the face.

            “You were right, Janie.” He said. “We do need to talk.”

            He motioned for me to come with him and then turned and headed in the direction of his office. I took a deep breath a followed.

A few minutes later my eyes were trying to adjust to the lack of lighting in my dad’s east wing lounge. With its massive leather couches and mahogany columns, it was a dramatic change from the bright party we just retreated. The only resonance was the faint ballroom music lingering in the background.

            I carefully took a seat on the stiff leather couch.

            Dad unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and hovered over his desk. With his back to me, I heard the click of his lighter and then, a moment later, the smoke from his cigar, haloed over his head.

In spite of the situation, I couldn’t help but smile. I suppose you could say I’ve always been a bit of a Daddy’s Girl, but with a father like mine, it’s hard not to be.

We never had problem talking and used to always chat up a storm in the car on the way to school. On the other hand, we were just as comfortable sitting together in silence, watching television.

            But now, we sat in a different kind of silence, a thick, uncomfortable one. With his back still to me he finally spoke, “So, is what I heard true?”

            “Um, well, what did Peter tell you?”

He turned around, leaned on the edge of his desk. Suddenly I remembered a recent New York Times article about my dad describing him as a “Gray-haired maverick that hadn’t lost even an ounce of gusto over the years.” From the way he looked right then, I thought that article was a perfect description.

He took a long drag of his cigar, and squinted at me. “Peter said he heard that you allowed our computer business to go bankrupt.”

Crap! There was no sugar coating this one, but by God, I would try!

            “Ok, it’s true, but…”

            “I don’t understand. What happened? You were doing so well last quarter.”

Avoiding eye contact, I looked over at his desk name plate. It was also mahogany wood, with his name written in gold calligraphy:

            Mr. Thomas Hightower

            My shoulders slumped.

I finally replied, “I was doing well, but that was before the recession really hit us hard and closed down half the shops in the shopping center.”

            “And?”

            “And I lost all my foot traffic.”

            “But, Janie, I thought financially you should be able to sustain a temporary loss in profit. Why, with all the money I gave you to get started, you should have been fine.”

            “I spent all the money.”

His piercing blue eyes ignited at this piece information. “What?”

            Holding my breath, I chose my next words carefully. “I decided to…er, I mean, I suppose I jumped the gun a bit when I thought we were doing really well.”

“And?”

“And, I thought it was time to expand.”

“No, Janie. Don’t tell me.” He rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

I knew I would have to finish explaining, even though that was the last thing I wanted. I could hear my heart palpitating in my ears and felt the sweat forming around my temples, but I continued to speak, my voice significantly lowered.

“I leased a new property, over on the Lower West. I started renovating it for a grand opening two months from now. It was going to be a surprise for you, but then when we lost profits at our store, I ran out of money.”

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me?”

I looked down and shook my head. “I wanted to fix it on my own. I thought I could, so I just kept working and trying, but it just wasn’t enough.”

I almost added; “Would Peter or Stanley need to come to you?” but changed my mind.

It was a bad decision on my part, as usual. I could kick myself. I always did this! I would get really excited about an idea, and then get my dad to give me the money. At first, things would go well—or not so well as we saw with the commercial condos idea, and then I always, somehow, ended up blowing it, and everything would come falling down around my ears. I didn’t know how I didn’t see this one coming. From the look on my dad’s face, I knew that excuse wouldn’t be enough.

I hated to admit it, but I had been in this hot seat a few times before. I wished I could just explain to my dad that I was trying really hard to follow in his footsteps. He too was just an average guy who worked hard and turned what little he had into an empire. His instinct for the market was amazing. He and I were alike in so many other ways; I just knew that if I found my niche, I would be just like him.

My sinuses burned and the backs of my eyes became wet and tingly.

            Dad seemed to be relaxing a little. He sat down on the coffee table across from me, but then a moment later, he just patted me on the knee and stood up.

            “Have you liquidated all your assets yet?” he asked.

            “Almost, I have a potential buyer coming by this week.” I replied, wiping the corner of my eye with my index finger.

            He nodded, and looked calmer. “I’ll deal with the buyer.”

I finally released my breath and my shoulders loosened.

“Well, Janie,” he continued, “let me know how much this is going to cost me.”

 I looked down at the floor. “Ok, thank-you.” I said, but then immediately regretted it.

            “Janie?”

I looked up...

            “Next time, apply what you learned in business school, ok? You can’t risk expanding too soon too fast.”

            “I was just applying what I learned in that Success in Sales Seminar I went to: ‘Always prepare for the best case scenario, think big!’ That is principle number 3; number 1 is ‘Always…’”

            I suddenly stopped because Dad was rubbing his temples, reminding me how much he hated those seminars I was always attending.

            He went over and poured a drink from the wet bar, but then, as if to think better of it; he left the untouched glass on the counter. His cigar smoke continued to rise and dissipate over his head. He turned around; his expression was now soft, but he looked me square in the eye. With a foreign tone, he spoke.

“I’m going to go back to the party now and I want you to do the same thing.”       He looked as though he had more to say but instead he walked to my side and looked past me, gazing out into the hallway.

Then, his brow crinkled and he pressed his hand against his left shoulder, like he was giving himself a massage.

“Dad, are you ok?”

Without answering, he stopped and moved his hand onto my shoulder. “Go have some fun. You need it.”

            “Thanks, Dad. I want you to have fun too.”

But, he put down his cigar and leaned against the doorway.

            “I would rather go get some sleep.” With that, he slid his body off the frame, and sauntered down the hall.

I was left in silence; confused and dumbfounded. I wasn’t sure what he meant by his last comment. A few minutes before, it was like he was having the time of his life. Dad always loved a good party, and suddenly it was as though he became incredibly tired or something. I hoped I had nothing to do with it.

To Chapter 2        Click to purchase ebook!