Page 93 of More Than Pen Pals

“Frank?”

I burst into laughter. “Yes, please call me Frank, especially when we’re in public.”

“Don’t test me,” he teases.

“I’ll always respond if you call me Frank.”

He pulls our hands toward him and kisses the back of mine. “Then you’ll always be my Frank.”

I giggle again before saying, “Now, on to more serious matters. Do you want to answer the question from my letter?”

“Are we not going to write to each other anymore?”

“Do you want to?” I do, because I want to re-read our letters someday down the road.

He squeezes my hand. “I do—with absolutely zero rules. But I’ll still answer your question now.”

“And my question from earlier today, too?”

“Was it today we had that meeting about Sanchez?”

“Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

“The best lifetime.” He caresses my knuckles with his thumb.

For someone who claims not to know how to be a boyfriend, Ash is knocking it out of the park.

The waitress brings some chips and salsa along with my margarita and his Coke, and we toast to ourselves.

Then Ash says, “I’ve often thought about leaving the firm. Dad always talks about how it’s his legacy to me and Randall, but it’s not a legacy I want. I don’t want to be associated with a lot of the things Dad does and believes in. I want to create something better to pass on to my children—if they want it, that is. If they don’t, that’s fine.

“Dad doesn’t understand that, either. Randall didn’t have dreams of being a lawyer, but he did it because he screwed around in high school and had little choice. Dad would only pay for college if my brother promised to become a lawyer, and his grades weren’t good enough for him to get any kind of academic scholarships. Plus, Randall has never been able to stand up to him about anything.”

“Have you?” I ask. “Have you ever stood up to him?”

“Not at work, I’m ashamed to say. But I do when it comes to my sisters. He doesn’t treat them like he does Randall and me. He doesn’t expect much from them and has mentioned nothing about the firm being a legacy for them. Tonya has always dreamed of becoming a doctor, and when she told us she wanted to go to Duke and do pre-med, Dad laughed at her. He said he wasn’t paying for Duke for a girl.”

I’m so enraged on Tonya’s behalf that I inadvertently crush a salsa-laden chip on its way to my mouth, and the remains fall onto my lap. The worst part of the situation is I have to let go of Ash’s hand while I clean the mess up.

“I’m good now. Please continue.” I take his hand again.

“I told Dad that Tonya was going to Duke if I had to take on an extra job to pay for it myself, and I wouldn’t be afraid to tell the world I was doing so—not to make myself look good, but to make him look bad. He threatened to fire me if I did, but I knew he wouldn’t go through with it. Not that I’d be upset if he did fire me. That would be much easier than me leaving of my own free will. Anyway, I didn’t back down—and neither did my sister—so Dad finally said he’d pay for Duke.”

“So she’s going?”

“She is. It ended up she got a full academic scholarship, which stuck it to Dad in the end.”

“Is everyone in your family super smart?” I ask.

He blushes and doesn’t answer.

“Come on,” I say. “I won’t think you’re bragging if you say yes.”

“Then yes. Even Randall, though most people wouldn’t know it. He never applied himself in school, and to be honest, he doesn’t apply himself at work, either.”

“So what would it take to get you to leave the firm?”

“I’d like to not quit without something else lined up. Eventually I want to start my own business or nonprofit, but for now I’d be perfectly happy doing a job I enjoy for someone else’s organization.”

---