* * *
The phone rang on Christmas afternoon, and I heard Laurie answer it. I went looking when she didn’t yell for Christy or me. We’d already talked to Christy’s parents and the Carmichael side of the family. My own parents were coming for dinner, so it probably wasn’t them either. I figured it was Erin. Sure enough, Laurie was chattering away.
“Uh-huh, three of them. Labrador retrievers. No, little ones, puppies. They had bows and everything, just like regular presents. They were from Santa Claus, but he must’ve told Daddy and Mommy, ’cause they were waiting for us with the video camera. Oh my gosh, they’re so adorable! The yellow one’s a girl. We’re going to call her Molly. The black ones’re boys, Spike and Bucket. No, Bucket. Susie named him.”
We were still scratching our heads about that one. At least the other two made sense, as Laurie was happy to explain.
“Daddy says they’re good swimmers. The dogs, I mean. So I named mine Molly, ’cause of the Unsinkable Molly Brown. I did a report on her. Emily named hers Spike. He’s the dog in Rugrats. Do you watch Rugrats? Oh, you should. It’s really good. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, I wanted to call him Doug, but Daddy said it was Em’s choice. We don’t know why Susie picked Bucket, but Daddy said we can call him Buck, so that’s his name.”
She talked for a little while longer and thanked Erin for the gifts she’d sent.
As she did, I surveyed the living room. Kids and dogs had left toys, boxes, and bits of wrapping paper that radiated outward from the Christmas tree. Laurie’s presents sat in a haphazard pile where she’d opened them by the hearth. Emily’s were stacked neatly under the tree, with the boxes in ascending order of size. Susie’s were all over the place, wherever she’d left them, although she at least had the excuse that she was only two.
“Hold on, Daddy’s here,” Laurie said. “Okay. I love you too. Merry Christmas. Bye. Only, don’t hang up. I’m going to give the phone to Daddy. Don’t hang up, okay?” She hopped off the couch and passed me the handset. “It’s Aunt Erin,” she said politely. “Where are the puppies?”
“Asleep with Em in her room. I think you wore them out.” She ran off, and I called after her, “Remember to knock if her door’s closed.”
I listened for a ruckus but didn’t hear one, so I relaxed and sank to the couch. I raised the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Er. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. Laurie was telling me about the puppies. She sounds so mature. And so articulate!”
“It runs in the family,” I chuckled. “You doing okay? Did you and Tom have a good Christmas?”
“We did. It was low-key. Sounds like the opposite of you and the girls.”
“Yeah, it was pretty crazy around here. Everyone’s worn out at this point—kids, dogs, and grown-ups too.”
We chatted for a couple of minutes and caught up.
“Okay, let’s get serious,” she said at last. “I wanted to talk to you before Mom and Dad get there.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I have news.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Oh, God, no!”
“Just checking,” I teased.
“No, but Tom and I are talking about getting married.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you. We moved in together in August. Sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to tell Mom.”
“Seriously? You know I don’t tell her things unless you say it’s okay.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But… I guess I wanted to make sure before I told anyone. Anyway, I’m not going to mention the wedding to Mom until we decide a few things.”
“Such as?”
“We’re thinking spring break.” She told me the date. “Does that work for you?”
“I’ll have to check the school calendar,” I said, “but it should.”
“Awesome. Next, we want a small ceremony, just family and a few close friends. Something like Leah and Mark had. But Mom’s gonna try and talk me into a lavish affair. Tom’s publicist wants the same thing, but he can handle her. I need your help with Mom. I mean, I don’t want a big all-day thing like you and Christy had.”
“Well, you aren’t Catholic, so you’re off the hook there. The rest is up to you. I mean, yeah, Mom would like to do the whole mother-of-the-bride thing, but she knows it’s your decision.”
“I hope you’re right,” Erin said.
“Trust me.” I paused, and we shared a long-distance smile. “I’m happy for you, Er.”
“Thanks. I’m happy too.” She laughed softly. “I was beginning to wonder…”
“Nah. We always knew it would happen. Leah even called it.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she said you’d be thirty before you settled down.”
“Eh, thirty… thirty-one.”
“Exactly. Close enough. So, what’re you thinking? Beach wedding and the Macarena? Sesame Street and Tickle Me Elmo? Oh, I know…!”
* * *
Paul+Hughes Design continued to add clients and employees at a blistering pace, which created a different kind of problem.
“I think we might be growing too quickly,” Trip said one evening over a glass of whiskey, our standard debrief at the end of the day.
“Is that really a thing?”
“Absolutely. If we spend all our time getting new clients, we can’t take care of the ones we have.”
“Makes sense. Even with the new people, my group’s been going full-throttle since Christmas. We haven’t missed any deadlines, but we’re looking at serious burnout if we keep it up.”
Trip and I had taken a short break for Erin’s wedding, but we’d returned to the same workload we’d left.
“Yeah,” he said judiciously. “I think I’m going to slow down on the new business front.”
“We also need a break,” I added, “something like a company picnic. And maybe bonuses for everyone, for all the hard work.”
“Profit sharing? Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Let Shari plan it. The picnic, I mean.”
“That’s your department.”
“Mmm. And speaking of Shari, I think we need to elect her to the Board of Directors.”
“No,” Trip said immediately, although he frowned and thought about it. “Why?”
“The Board has to represent the whole company,” I said. “It can’t be just the principals. The regular employees need a voice.”
“That isn’t technically what the Board is for, but it doesn’t matter. You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“You know this isn’t a democracy, right?”
“It’s an oligarchy,” I said. “But we live in a democracy, so it’s what people expect. We need to listen to them.”
“So you’re a politician now, too?” he laughed. Then he paused and eyed me curiously. “When did you become such a socialist reformer? I mean, you used to be a good capitalist like me.”
“I’m still a capitalist,” I said, the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “But I also know how to build a house.”
“So do I. But… what the hell does that have to do with capitalism?”
“My designs are just pretty pictures without the people who swing the hammers.” I waited for him to make a snarky comment about sickles, but he didn’t make the connection to the old Soviet Union.
“That’s true enough,” he said instead.
“So we need to add Shari to the Board,” I repeated.
“Gimme a sec.” He stared into space and considered it. “Do you trust her?”
“Completely.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “She’s friends with everyone, and she understands the business side.”
“She’s totally loyal, too.”
“To you or the company?” he snorted. Then he quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you aren’t…?”
I didn’t dignify it with an answer.
“I’m just kidding,” he laughed. Then he turned serious and considered the question. “Yeah, okay, you’re right,” he said at last. “How about this, let’s compromise. We need to keep the Board for its intended purpose, which is to protect shareholder value. It does other things, but that’s our main fiduciary responsibility.”