Page 76 of Conflagration
He clears his throat. “I just wanted to check in and see how things were going.”
“Things are good. To be honest, since I’ve returned to work, I haven’t been working the same amount of hours that I used to and I’ve had to delegate some duties, but things are running smoothly.” I pull at my tie, hoping my admission doesn’t work against me.
He nods, leaning forward in his chair to place his elbows on his knees. “Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear. Part of being the boss is trusting your subordinates and knowing when to delegate. I was just like you when I was your age. I wanted to take on every account, every role, and every responsibility I could manage. That’s all fine and dandy, but it takes a real businessman to know when it’s time to take a step back and reevaluate how he handles his affairs. And it seems as if you’ve finally learned that.”
“Wait… You don’t mind that I’ve nearly cut my working hours by twenty percent?”
“Hell no, son. You were working too much as it was, but it seemed to be the only thing to keep you grounded, so I let it slide. You do good work, and I trust your judgment. I couldn’t be prouder to call you my son or to have you take over the company.” He pauses, and I swallow hard. “I know you were expecting me to retire sometime soon after you married Megan, but to be honest with you, I hated seeing how your work life was affecting your home life. In retrospect, I should’ve discussed it with you. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently. At the same time, I know I wasn’t ready to pass the torch myself.”
“Are you kidding me? Nothing you could’ve said to me back then would’ve changed anything. Megan and I married for entirely wrong reasons, and whether I’d been with her or by myself, I’d still have thrown myself into my work the way I did. That being said, things have changed. I love the company, I love my career, and I love the work we do. It’s just… I love Ariana more, and I refuse to choose my job over her. I still have my goals and my dreams. They’ve just shifted a little. And as hard at it was, I took a step back and realized that, with the right amount of balance, there’s no reason I couldn’t have both.”
“Balance is the key, Branson, and I’m glad you’ve learned that on your own. You’re going to be an excellent leader,” he tells me, standing up.
“Dad,” I say, and he stops in the doorway, turning to look at me. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“I’ve always had faith you’d come around. After all, stubbornness runs in our genes, but you also have your mother’s smarts,” he replies, giving me a grin. “It’s Friday, Branson. Wrap up what you’re doing and head home early for the weekend.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
He laughs. “That file will be there Monday morning. If I have anything to say about it, I won’t be the boss much longer, so take advantage while you can. In fact, do me a favor. Send out a mass email. Everyone’s released two hours early today.”
“What’s gotten into you, old man?”
“I guess I’m in a good mood. Let’s just say…sometimes it’s good to be the boss.” With a parting wink, he slips out the door, and I rest back in my chair, running our conversation through my head.
Everything I’ve ever worked for is at the tip of my fingers, and now, more than ever, I want to prove that I can follow in his footsteps. After sending off the email, which I’m sure will garner much praise, I start to pick up the file, eager to get back to work now that Dad’s practically told me my becoming CEO is right around the corner. And then I remember his words about balance and knowing when to hang things up for the day. Slowly, I close the file and put it into my cabinet, shutting down my computer and locking up for the day.
Just like he said, it’ll be there waiting for me on Monday morning.
I have someone more important waiting on me at home.
“BABY, I’M home!” I shout, excited to start our weekend early.
My dad’s right. Being successful is great and all, but if you don’t have someone to share it with, it’s not quite as fulfilling. Now, I understand all those married men who live for Friday afternoons. Not because they want a few days off—okay, that helps too—but because they get to spend uninterrupted time with their loved ones. After two weeks of normal work hours, I’ve finally begun living for the weekend.
Once I drop off my briefcase in my office, I close the door, vowing not to open it again until Monday morning. I frown when I pass the kitchen and the living room, not seeing Ariana anywhere. When I head to the bedroom to change, I’m surprised to see her in bed, fast asleep. Glancing at my watch, I see that it’s nearly one in the afternoon, and it’s unusual for her to nap.
After quickly changing, I pull back the covers and slide into bed with her. She groans as I pull her into my arms. Her skin feels hot and clammy, and when I lie her down on the pillow, I press my hand to her forehead. She’s burning up, her hair’s a sweaty mess, and she’s completely pale.
“Baby,” I whisper, not wanting to wake her but knowing I need to get her to a doctor.
After I tap her cheeks a few times, her eyes flutter open. She grimaces at the light before her eyes focus on me.
“Branson?” Her voice is meek and quiet. “Is it afternoon already? I had a headache and decided to lie down so I could sleep it off. I didn’t mean to sleep the afternoon away.”
“I came home early, and it looks like it’s a good thing I did.”
She tries to smile, but her lips barely tilt up.
“Does your head still hurt?”
She nods. “My throat, too. I think… I think I might be coming down with something.”
“I think you’ve already come down with something. Let me call the doctor, and we’ll get you checked out.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Thank you, Branson. I’m glad you came home.”
Leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead, I watch as she lies back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut.
