26 and Change

by Deacon Rie

  "That didn't end too well, did it?" Rockwell's gaze returned to Stephen.

  "No, I can't say that it did." Stephen racked his brain to make sense of the conversation.

  "George is a longtime friend of mine. It was my first property acquisition. George set up the joint venture with me so we could secure the funding. At the time, I brought very little to the table and George generously treated me as an equal partner."

  Stephen's mind went into overdrive.

  Was he kidding? James Rockwell was the blazing comet of the commercial development industry and George McDowell had given this guy his first leg up?

  With a poised and stoic stance, Rockwell continued, "I trust George McDowell's word… emphatically. You should know that George and I recently had a chance to catch up."

  Stephen thoughts hit a moment of realization.

  Holy crap, what did I say to McDowell in that last meeting? Is that what this was all about? I burnt that bridge and now this was some sort of long-term retribution being played out by McDowell?

  Stephen could only take shallow breaths as he realized the meeting was about to conclude. Stephen retrieved the noisemaker off the coaster and took a careless gulp from the bottle, completely unconcerned with the impolite crackling from the bottle.

  Caring little for the rudeness or impropriety while finishing the last few drops, Stephen held the bottle against his lip for a brief extra second. Without warning, a reflective flash off the office window caught the center of his eye. Instead of cringing from it, Stephen starred at the glimmer. He felt the warmness of the light coming into him as he strained to keep focused on the reflection of light. The brightness reminded him of the abandoned car he had irresponsibly attacked during an afternoon run the prior year. In a moment's instant he recalled the feeling of helplessness, the lack of control, the unhindered rage he had unleashed on the vehicle. Then he thought about the blinding glimmer from the broken mirror which had nagged at him with defiance. His only concern back then had been for himself. He had become some enraged by everything that had happened to him, he hadn't seen the pain his own anger and distance was causing his family. Back then, he could only see his own pain and by dwelling on it, it had hurt him more. But hadn't the thing which pushed him over the edge, the foreclosure, hadn't it worked out? He had lashed out in anger and desperation and a solution had been presented. With the benefit of hindsight, Stephen was seeing more clearly now. He could see that in this very moment his anger was forming, he could see it building, and he could see it emerging just as it had with the car. He pondered that just as he had no idea that his father would offer to sell his house and rescue them from foreclosure, he had no idea how they would make it past the loss of the Rockwell account. But a solution would be presented. For some reason, he knew it would. Whatever came from this meeting, he didn't have to dwell on it. He would find a way to move forward and not adopt a mindset of unjustified anger as if he were constantly begrudging a world bent against him. Stephen wasn't that man anymore.

  His pulse eased and a calm began to drift over him. As he gently reached over to set the bottle back onto the table, he felt the gripping of a presence closing in around him. Unlike his previous emotions, this presence was warm, resting, even encouraging. By the time Stephen placed the bottle onto the coaster his mind was clear, his nerves settled and his palms were dry. Stephen was at peace with whatever came next.

  "Mr. Rockwell," Stephen's voice was controlled and calmed as he began to speak, his view of Rockwell obstructed by the afterglow of the sunspot still reflecting in his vision. "Mr. McDowell is someone who gave me an opportunity also. When his company closed I was pretty upset. I didn't treat him well at our last meeting and given the chance, I'd make it right with him. But however he feels about me, which is probably very justified, I still respect him and have a great deal of admiration for him as a businessman and also as a friend."

  Rockwell remained near the window but turned to face Stephen. Without even acknowledging Stephen's mea culpa he continued, "Next year we are expanding from twenty five acres to seventy five acres of titled land as we increase our square footage to 1.2 million square feet."

  "You're expanding?" Rockwell had shot another curve ball at him and Stephen was perplexed at the disconnect between hard times and the idea of more acquisitions.

  "Yes. Aggressively. I don't believe the talk about this being the new normal. It's a strong correction and it's done a lot of damage, but there's usually opportunity among chaos and I plan to go after it, hard."

  "But what about… what you just said about the funding?"

  "I said our banks were out. That doesn't mean I am. People think the commercial real estate market is going the way of residential. Stephen, I am not one of those people. Furthermore, neither are the people who are partnering with me to fund a series of joint-venture acquisitions."

  "Lenders?"

  "Not lenders, partners. We won't borrow a cent. And these aren't venture capitalist who will expect my dedicated attention until they look for an exit in three years. These are investors who will be active for the long term. If we have capital issues then we'll pause and just shift to smaller, more nimble developments. We won't be one of those companies that sit on a partially built property while having to make payments."

  "So you're acquiring new properties but still cancelling appraisal contracts?" Stephen's voice disclosed a glimmer of hope that there might be an opportunity in all this new information.

  "Yes, that's correct. We have an aggressive plan so we can't be held up while vendor companies deal with their own industry and personnel issues. We're going to internalize those operations. Rockwell Development needs people who are completely committed to the growth of our company and the only way to guarantee that is if we do it ourselves."

  "So you'll hire appraisers instead of using contractors?"

  "Yes, several. Appraisers will be a large part of a newly formed acquisition division organized specifically for the purpose of positioning Rockwell Development for the future." Rockwell followed Stephen's thought process and knocked it off the tracks before the train went too far. "But Stephen, I don't want to hire you as a commercial appraiser."

  Right back to the same point.

  The curve balls, plentiful as they were, didn't seem to matter as Stephen was still going out of business. But his sense of peace was a blanket comforting and shielding him from the relentless cutting of anxiety.

  "The reason I called McDowell earlier the other week wasn't to catch up with him. It was to talk about you, Stephen."

  Confused and somewhat taken aback again, yet calm in spirit and becoming more relaxed, Stephen was still having a very difficult time keeping up with Rockwell's pace.

  "George told me the hardest thing he had to do when his company went under was let you go. You weren't just his best appraiser, he said you built a culture in that company that allowed it to become the success it was. He thinks very highly of you, Stephen. And like I said, I trust George McDowell's word emphatically."

  Without waiting for a response, Rockwell continued, "I believe George's exact words were, 'Stephen Lantz had been more than instrumental, but critical at turning vision into a reality'. Well, Stephen. I've got a new vision for Rockwell Development. That vision needs leaders to make it a reality. So what do you say? Will you be my new vice-president of property acquisitions?"

  Stephen, head lost in the vortex, wanted to respond but couldn't put the words together quick enough for James Rockwell.

  "If you do this, I realize it will mean closing your appraisal business. I understand that is a difficult consideration. I can appreciate the freedom of being a business owner but we both know it has a down side. Financially speaking, I've reviewed our contracts with your company. Your salary will equate to a little more than three times the amount of our current relationship. It is my expectation that your new salary would compensate you for not having other contracts besides Rockwell. If it's not, let me know. I'm pretty determined
to bring you on board so I'm content to discuss it further."

  Calm. Steady. Moving from resting to hopeful. Take it in before speaking.

  "I'm also aware of your daughter's health. Hailey, right? George mentioned her. How old is she now?"

  "Yes, Hailey is our thirteen year old."

  "I understand she's gotten better, is that right?"

  "Yes, sir. The cancer is still in remission but she's having complications." Stephen's brain was racing and he still struggled to connect his words.

  "Complications?" Rockwell's voice expressed a heartfelt concern to hear more.

  "Um, complications from prior treatments. She has some vision problems and some of the medicines impacted the development of her joints in her legs so sometimes she needs to use a wheelchair. But she'll grow out of that as her body catches up. She's… she's a fighter."

  "Well, I'm very sorry to hear that she has to fight. But I have no doubt she's as persevering as you are." Rockwell's sentiments came across genuine and even compassionate, despite his direct pace and reserved use of words.

  "Stephen, we have an excellent benefits package which would include medical benefits to cover any of the treatments Hailey needs. We'll make sure she gets the best treatment. If you're working for Rockwell, Hailey becomes part of this family as well. And Stephen, I personally make sure we take care of our family."

  Stephen could tell James Rockwell's words were the commitments he never heard while growing up. The determination in his voice expressed a very intentional change from his father's view of family and there was no doubt he would absolutely follow through for the people in his company.

  "Thank you."

  "This is a lot for you to consider, I realize that. But I need to let you know we're moving pretty fast. Would a week's time be enough to discuss this with your wife and get back to me? If you two decide we're all on the same page then we can talk about a timeline to get you in the door."

  His mind attempted to balance a whole new range of emotions as Stephen tried to digest the feast of information Rockwell had hurriedly placed before him. "Yes, a week would be plenty of time. Yes, thank you."

  Wait. What just happened here?

  Mile 26

  The ping of the elevator signaled his arrival to the lobby level. Stephen could barely recall the final moments of his meeting. After being extended the job opportunity, Rockwell had wrapped up their time together with a brief encouragement about the future.

  "What just happened?" he reiterated to a vacant elevator as it revealed the active hallway and foyer.

  Stephen hovered through the lobby in a daze and out the glass doors into a brilliance of sunlight. Walking down the limestone stairs he attempted to flip through a mental checklist.

  Need to put validation stickers on garage ticket. Need to buy a new suit. Does Rockwell need a resume? Did he even ask for one? Need to finish outstanding appraisal work. Need to call Sarah first, talk to her about closing S&S. How do you even close a company down? Did I say I would call him or email him with an answer?

  His mind was a flush of faint bullet points, each breaking free of his imaginary checklist and trickling off into the midday air before he could get a handle on them. He simply couldn't hold a thought and when he stopped to look around he saw the lush green grass and scattered oaks of the park he had aimlessly wandered into. Continuing to walk, he released his vain attempt at tracking bullet points and allowed his thoughts to rest freely. Breathing in deeply his lungs filled with encouragement, with stability, with hope… with peace. Stephen looked up to the sky and outstretched his arms in humility and gratitude.

  The noise of the excited crowd was unexpectedly sudden as he rounded the corner, almost as if they were waiting for Stephen to reveal himself before the roaring applause began. The course was becoming more dense with onlookers yelling out their encouragements.

  "Keep it up, you're almost there!"

  "Looking strong! Way to go."

  "Great pace!"

  "Less than a mile to go. You got this!"

  Less than a mile?

  Stephen gave a puzzling glance to the encouraging spectator who was already cheering on another oncoming runner. In his mental drifting, Stephen's body had carried him across an unknown mile with minimal cognitive commitment. With his body on empty, fueled by little more than willpower and spikes of adrenaline, Stephen fought the soreness which grasped the length of his entire body and extended his stride to increase his pace for a final push to the finish.

  Something happens to the mind when it realizes the body is about to do what it didn't think it could do. Stephen's mind burst with emotions as it made the connection between task at hand and the eventual certainty of crossing the finish line; a finish line which held so much more to him than the completion of 26.2 miles. From the time of his initial deployment, he had been fighting to finish a race with no finish line in sight. The struggles his family incurred along the road had not been smooth; some travels had pruned him while others crushed him. But in spite of the difficulties, he could feel the strength each turn had added, placing him onto the path where he could genuinely appreciate the yearning for perseverance and the accomplishment of the grand feat before him. His mind melded the pairing of contradictions between his pain and gratitude, his solitude and community, his despondence and his joy. As Sarah would tell him, it had all been used for good.

  The crowd grew increasingly energized as he approached the final quarter mile. Distant noises which previously sounded as urban echoes now revealed their origin. He stole glances past the block's spacing between the city buildings and could see the crowd in flashes as if they were dancing in glimmers of an old film reel.

  Stephen picked up a rhythmic cadence from the distant music and emphasized each breath, causing his chest to expand and contract to the quickened beat of his own feet. Each yearning from his lungs sucked in air as if it were coal fueling the train down the tracks. His body still ached in pivotal places but tendons no longer resisted him as they fell to the will of his mind's desire. His stride was steady and seemingly oblivious to the hours of punishment he had put them through. Previously failing legs procured new life and propelled his body forward with determined might. As a result, he passed several other runners who hobbled about, having succumbed to their bodily pains and failing to recover for the final push to the finish.

  Stephen saw the crowd had reached capacity and people lined the street shoulder to shoulder congratulating and encouraging each pained runner which passed. They fed off Stephen's energetic display of fortitude and their voices rose to an approving eruption. Flags streaming along the crowd barriers told him that he was close to the finish. With the music pumping and his body drifting across the pavement, he emerged around the final turn and saw an archway within sight with a giant banner which had the word FINISH written across it. He could feel the wind blowing cool sweat off his face amid deep breaths and his pounding heart. He looked up and sprinted through the final steps at his fastest pace yet. His head elevated and his arms outstretched to feel the glory of the late morning sun. An uncontrollable smile burst from within at the change in texture he felt as his foot pounded onto the slightly raised blue mat of the finish line.

  A small army of volunteers stood just beyond the finish line to greet and encourage runners. They held a stack of medals in their arms and met each of the finishers in a personalized private ceremony, draping them with a finisher's medal while meeting them with a warm smiles and congratulatory praises. Stephen saw a particularly joyful volunteer staring directly at him. His face fell into a smile as he began walking towards her. With the unpleasant reminder of the day's torturous journey, his muscles stabbed at his back and then stiffened into a tight knot when he attempted to lean over to be presented with his medal. He laughed and instead offered an awkward tilt of the neck to her.

  The volunteer grinned her large cheeks while pursing her lips and crossed her arms, causing the three dozen or so medals she was carrying to clank to
gether. She exaggerated her head from side as if she were declining a child's request for a cupcake before dinnertime, "Uh-uh… I'm sorry, honey. I do NOT have a medal for you."

  Stephen stood confused between a mix of disbelief and physical disability, "Huh? Are you serious? I mean, I'm sure I smell pretty bad but… really?"

  "Honey, your medal is waiting for you over there." She stepped aside and pointed further down the finisher's chute.

  Toward the end, Stephen saw a swarm of people moving around a food and beverage section. It was chaotic and filled with the buzz of overjoyed runners still riding high from the euphoria of crossing the finish line. Then, among the shifting sea of torsos, he saw them. Sarah stood behind their daughter, waved at him and reached her neck up for a better view of his location. Hailey, still using the wheelchair for precautionary purposes, was saying something to her mother and attempting to see from her lowered vantage point.

  Stephen began moving forward, shuffling his way past the limping bodies. Unable to see through the masses, he focused on the area he had glimpsed Sarah and continued pressing forward. His body fought in vain for attention, yet none could be spared and he blocked out everything else as a single thought hovered in his mind.

  They are absolutely beautiful.

  Hailey saw him and her eyes popped with excitement. Her smile broke through and overwhelmed his physical pain, emulating the sight of the sun’s refreshing beauty as it breaks morning over a misty pond. Her long sandy blonde hair danced in the wind along with the strings from her purple hoodie. She had a finisher's medal draped around her neck. Sarah, with her hands resting on Hailey's shoulders, gave him a flirtatious grin and winked. As Stephen began moving closer, Hailey reached down and grabbed the padded armrests to begin pushing her body upwards. Concern swept over Stephen and he quickened his pace to help his fragile daughter. Sarah placed a hand on Hailey's arm and said something he could not make out, but Hailey appeared to reassure her and removed her foot from the rest.