Page 10 of Built to Last

“But you’re not your dad,” my mom replies. “Your father was a man and you’re a woman. The world treats and sees you differently. Oh, you have no idea how often we would fight about this.”

“You didn’t fight about anything, Mom. You did whatever Dad told you to.” I often saw her as Dad’s doormat. Our world revolved around what he wanted. She shoved down her entire personality for her marriage.

“I fought about the way he wanted to raise you. He treated you like you’re a boy but you’re not, and so you never learned how to handle the men around you,” she says as though she’s making any kind of sense. “He filled your head with a lot of nonsense.”

“I have worked with men all of my life. I don’t have trouble dealing with most of them. If you’re telling me I need to change my personality so Paul feels more comfortable with me, then we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“If you would only listen to him,” she says.

“About how women shouldn’t be in the workplace? You know he’s not merely talking about at the site. He doesn’t like the fact that I hired a woman accountant,” I point out. “I overheard him complaining that women don’t have a head for numbers. Should I placate him by firing all the women and then maybe firing myself and finding a good man and settling down?”

“You don’t have to be so harsh. You don’t have to make it sound like a terrible thing to do. Like my life was a waste.”

“I didn’t say that. Not even once. But you’ve been disappointed in me since the day I took over this company. What do you think Dad spent years training me for? I’m exactly where he wanted me to be.” I step back, not saying what I’m really thinking in the moment. That there are days I wish I wasn’t. That I didn’t have this responsibility on me. My father died young, his illness taking us by complete surprise. He hadn’t prepared more than a cursory will leaving all the money and the house to Mom and his stock and place in the company to me. At the time I had fifty-five percent. I had to sell some to cover the enormous tax bill since it was that or let the company that employed my whole family go under. Now I’m down to a still major shareholder share, but if my cousins decide to back Paul, they can take my job.

Would that be such a terrible thing?

Yes, because Paul will run the company into the ground. The few times I’ve sent Paul to deal with clients, I’ve had to clean up the fires he lights with his arrogance and attitude. I’ll never forget my uncle holding my hand on his deathbed, begging me to take care of things for his grandkids because his son wasn’t capable of doing it.

“Are you?” She asks the question with a hint of challenge. “You know I haven’t told you this because I wanted to spare your feelings, but maybe it’s what you need to find a way to readjust your attitude. Your father never meant for you to take over the company. He knew Paul would struggle so you were his best bet, but he always meant for your husband to be the one to head Ross Construction.”

The anger that flares inside me is only matched with the hurt. I know I’ve disappointed my mother all of my life. From the way I dress to the men I date, she finds fault in all of them. I can’t please her but she could have left me with this one thing. “Well, then it wouldn’t be Ross Construction, would it? Since I would have to be a good wife and take my husband’s name. Now if you’re through telling me what a failure I am, I have a wedding to pack for.”

She stares at me, tears filling her eyes. “I didn’t say you were a failure. You said I was. You think my whole life is meaningless because I didn’t work some job.”

This is well-worn territory. “Mom, you think everyone who wasn’t a stay-at-home mom thinks you’re worthless. That’s simply not true. Why can’t you understand that we have choices and they don’t diminish the people who make different ones?”

She wipes at her tears. “Doesn’t it bother you that your friends are getting married and you’re alone? Ivy is getting married. I still struggle to believe someone wants to marry her. How did she get picked before you did? Anika, I understand. She’s a sweet girl and so lovely. But Ivy can be rude.”

My mother always hated Ivy. I’m pretty sure she blames Ivy for ruining me since she still believes the combat boots Ivy gave me for my sixteenth birthday turned me into a radical feminist. I can’t explain to her that she did that every time she found out my dad cheated with the receptionist and she ignored it, saying at least he would come home to her.

See, I don’t say everything that hits my brain. I think I’m a fairly good person because I know what goes through my head, and it’s not pretty.

“Ivy isn’t rude. She’s assertive.” I’m fudging here. She can be seriously rude if you screw with her lunch. She gets hangry. Heath carries around mini candy bars for just such an occasion.

When I get hangry, I have to make a sandwich. If I went to the store. I glance over at the cookies. At least I have a snack.

Gosh, I am jealous, but not for the reasons my mom would have me be. I’m jealous because Heath gets Ivy. He knows her. Luca understands Anika, and they’re working toward something beautiful. They all have these great dreams and dream them together.

I’m not even sure I like my job anymore. I know that many of the people who work for me don’t appreciate me.

But they’ll get rid of my cold, dead body before they force me out.

“She’s awkward and often unfeminine.”

“Only because you have one narrow definition of femininity.” I’m getting irritated. She’s not usually this bad. Usually she comes over, fusses that the apartment isn’t perfect, makes some tea or coffee to go with the muffins she brings, and then tells me how all of my cousins’ kids are doing. I can listen to tales of Bobby’s T-ball game if it makes her happy, but I’m not going to do this with her. “Sometimes women don’t get the option of being sweet and unassuming. We’re not a monolith.”

“I don’t even understand you when you talk like that.” She frowns. “I’m sorry you had to find out about your dad.”

“It wasn’t like I thought he was a great guy.” He was complicated. I won’t use the word complex. He wasn’t. He was simple, but his relationships were complicated. Especially the one he had with me.

You’re a good one, Harper. You’re almost one of the guys.

She’s back to tears. “Well, I can see I’m not wanted here. You have a wonderful time in Europe away from your family.”

“You were invited.”

“What would I do in Europe?” she asks as she moves to the door. “Besides, I would miss Kelly’s dance recital, and her grandmother is awful. Can you believe she’s choosing a work conference over her granddaughter’s recital?”

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