The Four Gifts of the King

by R. Scott Rodin

  Walter held it up, examining it. The drawing was a large post with rings of all sizes lying and leaning beside it. On the bottom was an inscription that read, “Do you want to be free?”

  Steward’s words to Czartrevor.

  Walter looked at Reed. No expression could capture his joy.

  Reed just smiled and nodded. “It will be the first thing people see when they visit the village.”

  “One more surprise.” Katie took Walter by the hand and led him to the main conference center where men were working on the entryway. Above the two main doors was a large beam that was covered by a tarp to keep it clean. Reed asked the men to remove the tarp, and beneath it was an engraved piece of metal that read, “The Aiden Glenn Conference Center.” Beneath it was inscribed, “In loving memory of Sam and Lori Roberts.”

  The Cadillac slowed down, and Walter was jolted back from that moment to the present as Jack pulled into a gas station for a break from the drive.

  “Is this okay, Mr. Graffenberger?”

  Walter knew that soon he would tell Jack to call him Walter, but he kind of liked the formality for now. “Yes, Jack, we have plenty of time.”

  Soon they were back on the road, and Walter let his mind take him back across the long and difficult journey that Merideth had traveled since that day at the Roberts home so many years ago. He’d seen her three times since those emotional two days in Harvest.

  He’d had such a sense of despair on his first visit as he walked down the sterile, linoleum-lined corridor of the Rainier Valley Rehabilitation Center. He’d only spoken a few words to the cheerless attendant and the attending physician who had treated Merideth during her breakdown. They arrived at her room, and Walter squirmed at the memory of her with disheveled hair, ashen face, and eyes that were empty of passion and life.

  It was awkward at first. Walter prayed for the right words. But without prompting, Merideth shared what happened to send her to the rehabilitation center.

  “The drive home from Dad’s funeral—the story, the inheritance, and all of it—that was the longest drive of my life. So much was coming to the surface. Things I’d pushed down. It was starting to change me. Stuff that drove me, it all began to look foolish…unnecessary. Okay, I know it sounds like Dad’s Phaedra, but my mind kept telling me to wash it all away. I had the money. Nothing else needed to change. So it didn’t. I didn’t. Not at first.”

  She went on to tell him how she’d thrown herself into using the power of her inheritance to further her ambitions. She bought her way onto influential boards and made several risky deals as first steps at building her own empire. Some paid off and her early success bred a greater thirst for more until she became obsessed by it. She alienated her few remaining friends, leaving her with only a handful of shallow relationships that revolved almost entirely around her money.

  “Did you think much about your father’s story as you were involved in all that?”

  Merideth continued gazing out her window at the manicured lawns. “Occasionally. I would catch myself imagining myself as Cassandra on the ramps, but I dismissed the thoughts.” She turned to Walter. “I wrote it all off as father’s sincere but naïve hopes for a daughter he never really understood.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What I couldn’t shake was the gnawing image of Donturnates struggling to build his pathetic little second ramp with his bleeding hands and gray eyes. That image unnerved me every time it flashed through my mind. It worked in me like the constant pain of a pebble in your shoe. Every step I took, I knew that something was not quite as it should be.”

  “What happened?”

  At that, she straightened and spoke in a staccato voice. “Well, Walter. One day I met him.”

  Walter’s eyes widened. “Him? You mean Donturnates?”

  She nodded. “It’s quite a story, actually. A special courier arrived at my office with a personal invitation to meet with one of the most powerful people on the West Coast—Truman Helms. He’d heard of my resolve and was intrigued by my recent run of successful deals. He wanted to know if I was a ‘genuine player’”—she made quotation marks with her fingers—“and if I was ready to move up into the big leagues of investments and mergers.”

  “And you went.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Absolutely! He flew me by personal jet to a private airstrip just south of Palm Desert. I was taken by limo, champagne in hand, up into the hills surrounding Palm Springs then through massive gates leading into a private world of waterfalls, golf courses, and, of course, mansions rising up in every direction.”

  Walter nodded. “I’ve been to a few places like that.”

  She leaned closer. “So have I, Walter. But nothing like this. It was…well, just unbelievable.”

  “So what happened?”

  She sat back. “Near the top of the ridge surrounding the exclusive settlement, the limo stopped in front of the largest home I’d ever seen. I was escorted inside, where I was greeted by an assistant, given yet another drink, and invited to wait out by the pool.”

  She stood, acting out the walk. “I walked out onto a sweeping lanai that led down to a massive stone and plaster pool. The marble, granite, and alabaster went in every direction. From the edge of the pool, I could look across the entire Coachella Valley and out into the endless desert. The opulence of the place took my breath away.”

  Walter was caught up in the story. “What was this Mr. Helms like?”

  She shrugged. “He was a short, stout man, which surprised me. I’d heard stories of him for years. He was renowned for his shrewdness, his ability to win every negotiation, his ruthless takeovers, and his brash personality. I didn’t expect a squatty man, modestly dressed and, frankly, not the least bit intimidating. He greeted me, and I thanked him— and then asked him the dumbest question you could imagine.” She shook her head. “I asked if he’d had his amazing home built. Then I said I’d never been in a more incredible home. And you know what he said to me?”

  Walter shook his head.

  “‘Oh, well, you will.’”

  Walter frowned. “What did he mean?”

  “I asked him that, and he led me to the farthest end of the pool and down some stairs to a sculptured lawn area that opened up a splendid view to the north. I could see that, high up on a ridge, a massive field had been created. Big stands of rock and lumber were piled alongside pipes and parked machinery. I asked what was going on up there, and he said it was his new house! That they were starting construction in a month.”

  “‘A new house? Why are you building another home?’” I asked. “He studied me, clearly not happy with my question. ‘Merideth, let me ask you…what do you want from life? What do you really strive for? What’s your passion? What makes you hungry?’ I knew he was measuring me, so I chose my words with care. I told him I wanted what he wanted, to be on top, to win. I thought that would please him. He didn’t flinch. Not a nod or a smirk. I guess I know how a swimmer feels when a shark is circling him. Then he asked me, ‘Then tell me, why shouldn’t I build a bigger house?’ I couldn’t believe my own words, but I blurted out, ‘You have so much here. This place is so grand, what could you possibly want with anything more?’ He turned on me like I was some kind of prey. ‘No, Merideth, I’m sorry, but you do not want what I want. Having something more is what I want. I sell yachts to buy larger ones. I sell companies to purchase bigger ones. I sell horses to own faster ones. I buy and sell real estate, art, airplanes, commodities, and people to own what is larger, more valuable, more beautiful, more powerful, and more loyal. And when I’m done, I see that I have only begun.’ And that’s when I saw him.”

  “Donturnates?”

  She nodded. “It gets worse. I blurted out, ‘When do you stop? When do you have enough? When is your house big enough, your horses fast enough, your investment valuable enough, or your people powerful enough? Where does it end?’ I can still hear him shouting. ‘Ending is for those who are content with mediocrity. Content with winning most of the time. Cont
ent with a taste of power and a sip of success.’And then I said something that was more to myself than anyone. It became so obvious. I just replied, ‘Perhaps, they are just content.’ That was the end of it. I was out the door, well, almost. His parting words to me, Walter, and I swear this is word for word, were, ‘I was the first one to build up on this mountain, and I will be the first to build on that mountain as well. There is always another mountain, and while others are scratching and clawing to get up there, I will be waiting for them at the top. You see, Miss Roberts, no matter how hard you work or how fast you build, I will have already beaten you. I have won, Miss Roberts. No matter what you try to accomplish, you will always have to live with the realization that I have already beaten you, because I am willing to do whatever it takes.’”

  Walter’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, those were his exact words?”

  “Yup, his exact words. It was Donturnates. As I watched him walk away, it was as though he turned into that sad little man, hunched over by the burden of his unfulfilled desires, gray from lack of joy in his life, hands bleeding from work that would not satisfy, and eyes sunken and lifeless from a thirst that could never be quenched.”

  Walter focused back on Merideth. I can’t imagine that moment. Whatever it takes, he actually said that. “How did that affect you?”

  “It devastated me. It was all so…pointless. I was back in the moment when I heard Dad calling me to a life of contentment. I remember I talked about a life of sandcastles being washed away by some huge wave. Well, that wave hit me again. Everything just wiped away. A week later, I was checking in here.”

  She paused, her shoulders slumped. She managed a glance back at him. “Thanks, Walter, for coming all the way to Seattle so soon after I called. I needed someone who understood…who cared.”

  It was six months before Walter could get back to the rehabilitation center for a second visit, and when Merideth would agree to see him. This time, as Walter entered her room, Merideth looked rested and well cared for, bearing a softer countenance.

  Was that humility? Soul searching?

  He was delighted to see her this way. “Hello, Merideth. It’s so good to see you.”

  Merideth looked up and smiled. “Thank you for coming, Walter. Dr. Schreck, can I spend some time alone with Walter?”

  The mid-sixties psychologist obliged. “Of course, Merideth. Remember to look for the patterns from your past. Perhaps Mr. Graffenberger can help. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  Walter let the door close and put down his briefcase. “What did he mean by patterns?”

  Merideth rolled her eyes. “Oh, he’s convinced that my recovery is dependent upon my ability to reconnect with the past patterns in my life that created in me the thirst for success and fame. I think it’s mostly psychobabble to make me think he can really help me.” She drew up a grin.

  Is she taking this seriously?

  “You don’t think he can? Then why are you here?”

  Merideth folded her hands, rubbing her thumbs into each other as she spoke. “I needed a safe place to get away and think. When you were here last, I’d lost all sense of who I am and what I am supposed to do with my life. I’m still searching. I mean, if I’m to give up trying to be successful, then I abandon everything that motivates me, everything that gives me satisfaction and happiness. I give up real life, fulfilled life as I know it. Then, Walter”—she threw her hands in the air—“what do I have left? What do I have left? Nothing! Nothing that I care to wake up to every morning. I’m not Anna. I can’t spend my life serving the poor or caring for lost kids. I have nothing to hope for. Nothing to live for. And that scares me. That’s why I am here.”

  Walter took her hand. “My dear Merideth. You and I are not so very different, you know.”

  “Oh, come on, Walter, you are…well, you are Walter Graffenberger! How are you and I alike at all?”

  How much should he, could he, tell her?

  “Oh, Merideth, my ambitions have taken me several times to the brink of disaster. After leaving law school, I longed to be the preeminent attorney in the region. I did my own share of clawing my way through and around and over people to build my practice and reputation. But my success never satisfied me. I thought I just needed to work harder, earn more, and climb higher than my peers. I was on the fast track to absolute burnout, but I was so driven. Man, was I driven!” He stood to look out through the window, across the open landscape.

  Merideth came next to him. “Walter, I’m…I’m astonished. You seem so…settled. So at peace. Your life seems to be in such balance. How did you get there?”

  He turned to her. “You may not like the answer. I found out that God cared less about what I did than who I was. Everything that drove me was of no consequence to my Creator. I had to come to grips with the fact that I was doing it all for me. And, Merideth, that just wasn’t enough.”

  She broke his gaze and shook her head. “That’s great to say, but just how did you make such a huge change in your life? How do you go from your heart’s desire to something else…something less?”

  Walter put his hand to her chin and turned her face back to him. “But, Merideth, it isn’t less. It’s more, so much more. Saying it’s less—that’s the lie. Your father helped me understand that I was gifted to succeed at whatever I put my hand to. I just needed to choose battles that made a real difference. I didn’t leave my law practice, I just changed the focus of what I did through it. I took on cases that mattered. Not for their prestige or financial reward, but for the impact they would have on issues of justice and fairness and equality. I decided that I would start fighting for what mattered in the bigger picture, regardless of what it meant for me personally or professionally.”

  He let his hand fall, but his caring gaze continued to hold her. “Merideth, your mother and father were immensely proud of your ability to accomplish whatever you put your mind to. They just prayed that you would find satisfaction in accomplishing things that had eternal value. Your father helped me understand the value of such work. And I know that, when he was dying, he hoped that you would find the same satisfaction in your own life. He left you that fortune because he had absolute faith that one day you would.”

  Her eyes opened wider. “Do you think I can, Walter? I’m not sure. I’m so far down the other road. I can’t see my way back. It just seems so dark and hopeless…”

  He turned her to face him.

  “Merideth, you are Steward at the crossroads in the Fungle Woods. You have two paths. One is wide and familiar, the other is dark and threatening. But I am confident that you know in your spirit that the harder road will lead you to where you want to go. And I know”—he pressed in closer to her—“I know you have the courage and the strength to take it.”

  Thank you, Lord, for those words. They were yours, not mine.

  Three months ago, Walter had made his third visit, this time to her new offices located in a row of quite classy but humble houses that had been converted into offices near Elliott Bay in downtown Seattle. The views were magnificent, but the décor was humble and brought a sense of calm to Walter. In the lobby, Walter got his first look at the beautiful bronze sculpture that symbolized Merideth’s transformation. He ran his hands over it and admired its combination of simplicity and emotional power.

  Merideth greeted him with a hug, and they stood looking at the three-foot-high sculpture.

  She looked at him. “Well, what do you think?”

  He just shook his head. “It’s amazing. It captures the essence of the symbol. I can’t imagine anyone looking at this without being moved.”

  “You’re right. Almost everyone has an emotional response to it, and then they ask what it means. That’s its beauty. It invites you in to learn more.”

  Walter walked around it to see it from every side. “Do only prize winners get one?”

  “Only prize winners get first-run copies. But we will sell a second-run copy to anyone.”

  “How many
prizes have you given so far?”

  “Just nine. We hope to give out about twenty per year, starting next year. We just had our first in February.”

  Walter picked up the brochure. “The Cassandra Award for Excellence in Business Practices with Eternal Value.” The brochure explained the cash award, ranging from $100,000 to $1 million, “to be given to companies with business practices reflecting eternal values that are expressed in acts of love and service to their neighbors and communities.”

  The brochures sat in a glass case next to the glistening sculpture of a Quash and sash. The detail was impeccable, with every fold in the sash so lifelike that many people tried at first to run their hands across the smooth cloth, only to find it was metal. The inscription that had been on Sam’s gift to Merideth—“Love your neighbor as you love yourself”— was engraved on the bronze award.

  Walter felt the deep engraving. “From your gift from your father.”

  Merideth let a broad smile beam across her face. “Yes, and that’s what it’s inspired people to do. Each gift has awarded amazing changes companies and their leaders have made in refocusing their goals to include helping others. I love the line ‘acts of eternal value.’ That’s what I was missing all those years. A life focused on eternal value.”

  Walter decided to take a chance. “They have a word for that…”

  Merideth didn’t hesitate. “Yes, they do, it’s called contentment.”

  Walter smiled in the back seat of his Cadillac as he rolled the thought of that visit over again in his mind. Then he moved his thoughts to Anna.

  He’d been so disappointed when he first saw her a few months after the funeral. Despite her wealth and her insistence that she had been changed by her father’s story, she remained unkempt, carrying the same melancholic countenance she had at the funeral. He’d met her over dinner at a small café near the University of Washington.