Lost December

by Richard Paul Evans

  “What are you doing here?” I repeated. “What’s going on?”

  Sean looked at me with dull eyes. “James was in an accident.”

  I looked back and forth between them. “What?”

  “Last night,” Marshall said, “He was hit by a drunk driver.”

  Sleep left me. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

  “He was killed,” Candace said.

  I sat up. “Killed? I just … I was just with him. We’re going to get pancakes.” I looked back and forth between them. “This can’t be.”

  “It’s true,” Candace said.

  I felt sick to my stomach. “No, it can’t be.” My eyes began to well up with tears.

  Candace sat down on the bed next to me. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “If I had gone with him …” I said.

  “If you had gone with him, you might have been killed too,” Marshall said. “He was hit by some drunk kid celebrating his graduation. The kid ran a red light and hit James in a crosswalk.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” I said. “Why James? He did everything by the book. He worked hard, he went to church, he believed in God. None of it saved him.”

  “The good die young,” Sean said.

  “It’s not right,” Candace said.

  “It’s not a matter of right or wrong,” Sean said, “it’s what is and what isn’t. Death can come at any time. Accept it or not, death comes all the same. The only question is, what are you going to do about it.”

  Three days after graduation we attended James’s funeral in Philadelphia. He was buried with his graduation sash, the family’s first college graduate. The ceremony was simple and brief and affected me powerfully. I fought back tears the entire time. Candace held tightly to my hand throughout the service. Afterward, Candace and I went up to talk to his parents.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Candace said to them. “James was a good man.”

  His father’s eyes were swollen and red. “He was a good son,” he said. “We were very proud of him.”

  All I could think to say was, “God bless you.” Then I turned away. We left after that. We all went back to Sean’s house and sat in the front room in a grief-induced stupor. Gone was our usual banter and laughter. Sean brought out a bottle of bourbon and poured us shots. As we finished the bottle, I said to Sean, “We’re going to Europe with you.”

  Candace looked at me. “What?”

  “We’re going to Europe with them,” I said.

  Even with her grief, she looked distressed. “Can we talk about this?”

  “No. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “I can’t afford to go to Europe.”

  “You don’t need to,” I said. “I’ve got a trust fund. I’m bringing you.”

  She looked at me for a moment, then said, “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes I can,” I said. “Look at James. He postponed his life and never got the chance to live it. We don’t have time to waste. We need to start living now.” I turned back to Sean. “I’m going. Final answer.”

  “Bravo,” Sean said.

  Candace sighed. “Well, if you’re going, I’m going with you.”

  “Then it’s settled,” I said. “We’re both going. All that’s left to do is to tell my father.”

  CHAPTER

  Fourteen

  Today I broke my father’s heart.

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  Phoenix is a furnace in summer, but as I pulled into the parking lot of Crisp’s headquarters, I think I was sweating as much from my nerves as from the heat. My father had built the seven-story building two years before I left for Wharton and had filled the whole of it with Crisp’s operations. For the first time in my life I felt uneasy walking through the front doors of the business.

  It had been nearly a year since I’d seen my father. I wasn’t sure how he would react to my decision to abandon Crisp’s for an indulgent excursion around Europe for an indefinite period of time, but I was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be received well.

  I took the elevator to the seventh floor and took a deep breath before stepping out of it. Mary walked around her desk as I entered the office, her arms outstretched to hug me. “Luke, it’s so good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too,” I replied, taking her embrace.

  “I’ll let your father know you’re here. He’s just getting off a conference call right now. He’s so excited to see you. We all are.”

  “Me too,” I said, thinking my words sounded feigned. “It’s good to be home.”

  As Mary picked up the phone, a voice boomed behind me, “What’s wrong with security? They’re letting anyone in off the street.” I turned around to see a grinning Henry walking into the office. “Welcome back, my boy.”

  Henry was in his mid-forties, short and athletically built. The last time I’d seen him, he was losing the battle of the bald. Now, magically, he had a full head of hair.

  “Nice locks,” I said.

  “My new rug,” Henry said, tilting his head slightly to show off his hairpiece. “I can even swim in it.”

  “Now you’re going to be fighting women off with a stick.”

  “That’s the idea,” Henry said. He stuck out his hand. “Congratulations on your graduation. The family’s first M.B.A.”

  “Yeah, well I think they’ve done pretty well without one.”

  “Most of the time,” Henry said. I had no idea what he meant by the comment but let it slide.

  “Luke.”

  I turned around to see my father standing in the doorway of his office. I was surprised by how different he looked to me—how much older. It had been longer than I realized. He walked slowly across the room. We embraced.

  After we parted, I asked, “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m great,” he said. “Just a little sore from this morning’s squash match. Come in, come in. Let’s talk.”

  I followed him into his office and he shut the door behind us. Everything, except my father, looked exactly the same as it had when I left. I sat down in a tucked leather chair in front of his desk, and he walked in front of me, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I’m so proud of you, Luke. Our first M.B.A.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I said.

  “It’s a very big deal,” he replied. His eyes were filled with pride. “I’ve been so excited for your return. And so ready to get started.”

  I looked at him. “Started?”

  A large smile crossed his face. “On the transition. I’m ready to start turning the company over to you.”

  I knit my fingers together in my lap, not sure what to say.

  When I didn’t speak, his expression turned. “You’re not happy about this? I thought you’d be happy …”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve been ready for years. You were raised in these stores. You know them better than anyone but me—and I’m ready to hand over the reins.”

  “Dad …” I just looked at him. I could see concern cross his face. “Look, I don’t want to do this.”

  My father looked at me without comprehension. “It doesn’t have to happen overnight.”

  “I mean ever.”

  A shadow came over his face. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to chain myself to Crisp’s.”

  He just looked at me quietly for a moment. “I don’t understand. What do you want to do?”

  “I want to live.”

  “I still don’t understand,” he said.

  “I want to really live. I want to experience life. I’ve worked since I was twelve.”

  He looked confused.

  “Did I tell you about my friend, James?” I asked.

  My father shook his head. “Your roommate?”

  “No, James was another friend of mine. He was a serious guy. Hardworking, very religious. He graduated third in our class.”

  My father was just staring at me, no doubt wondering what James had to do with our conversation
. “No. You never told me about him.”

  “Graduation night he was killed by a drunk driver.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “All that work and sacrifice was for nothing,” I said. “He wasted his life.”

  “I wouldn’t call that a wasted life.”

  “Then what would you call it?”

  “Anything but wasted. A man who lives an ethical life adds to the whole of the human family—no matter how brief that life might be.”

  “You’re an idealist, Dad. But the bottom line is, he could have enjoyed his life, instead of spending all those hours at the library poring over his books for nothing.” I slowly shook my head. “I used to believe that that was how life was supposed to be. But I don’t anymore. Life is meant to be lived, not sweated away. I’m not that kind of fool.”

  “You mean a fool like me.”

  “You’re twisting my words,” I said. “You’re no one’s fool. You’ve lived your life the way it worked for you. I just want to do the same.”

  My father didn’t reply.

  “When you insisted that I leave Arizona, you said it was because you didn’t want me to have any regrets. You said that you wanted me to see the bigger picture. At the time I didn’t want to go, but you were right. I’ve seen the bigger picture. And the world’s a whole lot bigger than the biggest corporate suite. Isn’t this what you were trying to teach me? To fly? To live life without regrets?”

  My father just looked at me quietly. “And what do I do with the company?”

  “Sell it,” I said. “Cash in on all your hard work. You could finally be free from Crisp’s and enjoy your life.”

  “You make Crisp’s sound like a prison sentence.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  After a moment he said: “No. And I’ve never considered selling it. This has always been a family business. For you, maybe someday for your children.”

  “What if I don’t want it?”

  He slowly shook his head. “I could never just walk away. Crisp’s is a family. Some of my employees have devoted their entire careers to working for me. I can’t just turn them over to someone else. I need to make sure they’re taken care of.”

  “That’s part of the problem, Dad. Crisp’s isn’t a family. And it’s not a charity. It’s a business. If I learned one thing from my M.B.A., it’s that. When you forget those boundaries, people will occupy your every waking moment. They’ll suck you dry.

  “One of my professors used to be the CEO of a major cosmetics company. He told us that he realized it was time to leave when more of his time was spent taking care of his employees’ problems than the actual business. Selling Crisp’s will be the best thing you’ve ever done. You’ll see that there’s another world out there—one you deserve before it’s too late to enjoy.”

  “Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may die,” my father said softly.

  “Not may, Dad. Will. Like James. Like Mom.”

  What I said pierced him. My father looked down for a minute before speaking. “What do you plan to do?”

  “For now I’m going to travel with my friends.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. Until I’m done.”

  “How will you fund this?”

  “I have my trust fund.”

  “And when that runs out?”

  “There’s a million dollars. It’s not running out.”

  “Money always runs out. A million dollars doesn’t go as far as you think.”

  “It will go far enough,” I said.

  He looked down at his desk. “I can’t stop you from accessing it, but I’m against it.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. But this is something I need to do.”

  He looked perplexed. “I’ve spent my life creating something to leave to you.”

  “And you’ve succeeded. But you’ve given me something much greater than a company. You’ve given me freedom.”

  He threaded his fingers together and put them in front of his mouth, his eyes closed. He looked like he was praying. He stayed that way for a full minute before he looked at me again. He took a deep breath then exhaled slowly.

  “Okay,” he said. “Follow your own drum. But be careful, son.”

  “I don’t want to live careful,” I said. “That’s part of the problem, people cling so tightly to their lives that they squeeze the joy out of it. I just want to live.”

  “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “You won’t.”

  His eyes welled up, which I could see embarrassed him. “I was so excited for your return.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  He took a deep breath. “I can’t talk you into sticking around?”

  I slowly shook my head.

  “Then I suppose there’s nothing more to be said. You know how to get the money, I assume.”

  “I’ll visit Mike.” I got up and walked to the door. I looked back at him. “Bye,” I said.

  He was overcome by emotion and couldn’t speak. He just nodded.

  I quickly walked out of his office and left the building. Whether to fly or fall, I had definitely left the nest.

  CHAPTER

  Fifteen

  Unless you’re an engineer, a doctor or mathematician,

  the true measure of any decision is less result than intent.

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  I was about to pull my car out of my parking stall when Henry knocked on my window. I put the car in park and rolled down the window.

  “What just happened?” he said. “I haven’t seen your father that distressed since your mother passed away.”

  “I told him that I don’t want to run the business.”

  Henry looked a little surprised but nodded sympathetically. “I can understand. That’s a heavy mantle.”

  “That’s what I told him. But he didn’t take it very well.”

  “No, I suppose he wouldn’t. He’s been planning on you taking over for years. Maybe since you were born.”

  “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

  “Your father? Of course he will. He’s a survivor. You don’t build a Fortune 500 company without contingency plans.”

  “Henry, you know him. Why does he do it? Why does he keep running the company? He could enjoy life, see the world, find love.”

  “You know, I’ve asked him that very thing, but he’s never given me a straight answer. I’m not sure he has one. Your father came from a different place than you or me. He came from a world of scarcity—where a man fought against the wilderness to survive. But even more than that, your father’s a do-gooder. He’s been the company nursemaid for thirty years.”

  “I know. I told him that Crisp’s isn’t a charity. He should sell the company, take his winnings and move on.”

  “I’ve told him that very thing, but he won’t listen—improve the P&L, sell, then really start living life. He could buy a yacht and sail around the world.” Henry cocked his head. “Who knows, maybe coming from you he’ll listen.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Henry asked.

  “I’m going to start living. Travel.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Everywhere. We’ll start in New York, then we’re headed to Europe”

  “Good for you, Luke. Just be safe. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of your father.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He slapped the roof of my car. “Don’t mention it. And don’t worry. Everything will be just fine.”

  I called Candace from the road. “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “Not well,” I said. “My father was planning on me taking over the company immediately. I really hurt him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. He didn’t deserve that.”

  After a moment she said, “Hurry to New York. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” I said.

  “Sean went
ahead and booked our room on his credit card.”

  “Tell him thanks. I won’t have my new credit card for a few days.”

  “Just a minute,” Candace said, “Sean wants to talk to you.”

  “You owe me, man,” Sean said.

  “I know. I’ll pay you back.”

  “How’d it go with the old man? Like you expected?”

  “Worse. He was expecting me to take over immediately.”

  “I told you. It’s archetypical. Atlas tries to hand the world over to Hercules. Only you were smart enough to reject it.”

  “I don’t feel that smart right now.”

  “But he’s not stopping you from leaving.”

  “No. The trust fund is in my name, so there’s nothing he can do about it anyway. I just hate disappointing him.”

  “You’ll be feeling better soon enough,” Sean said, “Don’t worry about your father. It’s not what he expected, but he’ll come around. He wants you to be happy, right?”

  “And if he doesn’t come around?” I asked.

  Sean laughed. “You’ll burn that bridge when you get to it.”

  I drove to the office of Mike Semken, our family accountant, and let him know that I was leaving town and needed to access my trust fund. He said it might take a few days to secure a debit card for the account, but he’d have it sent to me as soon as it arrived.

  Leaving Semken’s office, I stopped at a pub some of the Crisp’s employees and I used to frequent and had a drink to settle my nerves. Then I drove to Sky Harbor airport and caught a flight to New York to meet up with the rest of the gang.

  The five of us, Candace and I, Sean, Marshall and Lucy, had booked rooms at the Four Seasons Hotel between Park and Madison avenues. I arrived before they did and slept until Candace knocked on my door. She put her arms around me.

  “You okay, honey?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  She looked into my eyes. “We’re here, so let’s be happy.” She kissed me. “I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

  Not surprisingly, Sean knew the Big Apple to the core—from the best restaurants to the most exclusive clubs. He even knew the best hamburger joint, a peculiar dive hidden behind a curtain in the lobby of Le Parker Méridien Hotel off Fifty-Sixth Street.