My father told me I would never own real estate while standing thirty floors above downtown in the presidential suite of a hotel I had bought for more than 12M. What made it almost unbearable was that he wasn’t joking—he was trying to give me fatherly advice.
Chapter 3
Dinner sat untouched as the reality settled over the room.
Eventually, Daniel pushed the tablet away.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem.”
“You could have told me.”
“I tried.”
“You could have tried harder.”
I looked at him.
“Why should your interest in my life require a sales presentation?”
He flinched.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“You have to admit, Emily, keeping something this big quiet is unusual.”
“I didn’t hide it. I simply stopped forcing information on people who showed no interest.”
Dad crossed his arms.
“We’re your family. We deserve to know if you’re building some kind of empire.”
I almost laughed.
“Why?”
His face hardened.
“Because we’re your parents.”
“You were my parents when you thought I was a hotel clerk too.”
Nobody answered.
“That’s what bothers me,” I continued. “You suddenly think my life deserves attention because there’s a large number attached to it.”
Mom shook her head.
“That isn’t true.”
“Then tell me about the first property I bought.”
She couldn’t.
“Tell me what my company actually does.”
Silence.
“Tell me how many people I employ.”
Nobody knew until tonight.
“Tell me one goal I’ve mentioned in the past five years.”
Mom looked down at her plate.
I softened my voice.
“I would have loved for you to know these things when they were small.”
That finally reached her.
Her eyes lifted.
“I wanted Dad to ask about my first hotel when it had peeling wallpaper and a broken boiler. I wanted Daniel to ask why I was spending sixteen-hour days there. I wanted Rebecca to ask how negotiations were going. I wanted somebody to be interested before the numbers became impressive.”
Rebecca’s eyes grew wet.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed she meant it.
Dad still looked defensive.
“We pushed you because we wanted you to succeed.”
“You pushed me toward your definition of success.”
“What’s wrong with wanting security for your child?”
“Nothing. But I had security. You never asked.”
Daniel stared at the skyline.
“I really was awful to your staff?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“That doesn’t matter to the housekeeper you ordered to hurry.”
He nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
It was the first thing he had said all night without defending himself.
Mom touched my arm.
“What happens now?”
I looked at her.
“Nothing dramatic.”
“What do you mean?”
“You finish dinner. Daniel enjoys the room he paid for. Sunday he checks out. My staff provides the same excellent service we provide everyone.”
“No,” she said. “I mean with us.”
That answer was harder.
“I don’t know.”
Her face fell.
“I’ve spent ten years being treated like the family disappointment. Tonight, when you discovered you were wrong, Dad’s first reaction was anger that I made him look foolish.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
I waited.
He didn’t deny it.
“That tells me we have a lot more to fix than one dinner.”
Rebecca wiped the corner of one eye.
“I’d like to hear about your company.”
I studied her face.
“Really?”
“Yes. Not tonight. Not because I want numbers. I mean what you actually do. How you find properties. Why you like this work.”
Something inside my chest loosened slightly.
“I’d like that.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Me too.”
I wasn’t ready to believe him yet.
But I heard him.
I gathered my purse.
Mom stood quickly.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t finished talking.”
“I think we’ve talked enough for one night.”
She looked frightened.
Not of my money.
Of losing me.
That mattered more.
At the door, I turned toward Daniel.
“One more thing.”
He looked up.
“The champagne is on the house.”
His eyebrows rose.
“The four-hundred-dollar bottle?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I smiled.
“Consider it a gift from the owner.”
Then I left.
