Ten Million Reasons

by Heather Gray

  “I don’t know,” Max said. “I’m not sure it’s for me.”

  “When is practice?” Genevieve asked.

  “Monday, Wednesday, Friday.”

  “What time?”

  Max rolled his eyes. “I get it Aunt Gen. Mom’ll be at work when I’m at practice. Still, all the events will be on Saturdays. And they usually take up most of the day. It means I won’t see Mom or Dad much anymore.”

  Softly, Genevieve said, “Maybe they’ll come watch you race.” The teen gawked at her as if she’d just picked her nose and offered him what she’d found. It broke her heart that he’d lost faith in his folks. “Max, I know you’re tired of being let down, but you have to give them a chance. Remember what we talked about? If you assume they’re going to say ‘no’, you never ask, and then they never get a chance to say ‘yes.’ You have to keep giving them opportunities to be better parents, because if you stop believing they’re capable of it, then…” her words trailed off as their pizza arrived.

  “Hey, Richard, you want to bless the pizza?” Max asked.

  Looking as comfortable as could be, Richard bowed his head and offered up a brief prayer, “Dear Lord, thank you for everything you’ve given us. Please bless those that prepared our food and those who delivered it. See to any special needs they have. Thank you for how well Max did at his tryout today, Lord. Give him wisdom as he makes his choices. Amen.”

  Quickly on the heels of ‘amen’ all three were savoring their first bites of dinner. The previous conversation was dropped.

  “This is good pizza, Max. Where’d you hear about this place?” Richard asked.

  “Heard some kids talking about it. Figured it’d be easier for you to impress my aunt here than at some ordinary pizza joint,” came the teen’s cheeky reply.

  Genevieve almost choked on her food. Once she got her pizza swallowed and was breathing normally again, she drilled Max with her eyes. He threw his hands in the air and said, “Hey, I’m only trying to help you out, Aunt Gen.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Okay, Max, I get the point. I’ll drop the subject of your relationship with your parents if you stop trying to help with my dating life.” Or lack thereof.

  “Nah, it’s okay,” he said. “Let’s not talk about it anymore today, though, okay?” Genevieve nodded. “One more thing, then we drop it,” he added, his voice more authoritative than usual. “I don’t have to keep giving anybody opportunities to do anything. I have a choice.”

  As Genevieve’s heart began to sink at his words, she remembered what a spectacular kid Max had always been. He’d already given his folks far more chances to be in his life than most kids would have. She was confident he wouldn’t write them off quite yet.

  While they continued to eat, Richard regaled them with stories of his cross-country days in college. “I was the most mediocre runner on the team.”

  “No one can be that bad,” Max said.

  “Au contraire. I have the trophies to prove it. Four of them. One for each year I was on the team.”

  Laughing, Genevieve asked, “What does it say on the trophy?”

  “Well, the first trophy says ‘Most Mediocre.’ The next two years were slightly more creative. Those trophies both said ‘Mediocrity Medallion.’ Despite the honor of those first three trophies, the fourth remains my uncontested favorite. They renamed the trophy in my honor during my senior year. It has the same name to this day.” After a dramatic pause, he said, “The Richard Blakely Do-the-Best-You-Can-Even-When-It’s-Not-Good-Enough Award.”

  Laughter burst out of Genevieve before she could stop it. She was about to ask how on earth they’d fit all those letters on a trophy when Max spoke up, “No way! You’re Richard Blakely?” Looking to his aunt, he asked, “Why didn’t you say anything Aunt Gen?”

  Baffled, Genevieve glanced from man to boy.

  Max said, “You’re kidding me! You don’t know who he is?” After she shook her head, he went on, “He’s, like, one of the wealthiest men in the country!” Genevieve continued to look at him blankly, and Max sighed. “And you call yourself a journalist?”

  “It’s okay, Max, really,” Richard said. “I kind of liked that she didn’t know who I was.”

  Max gaped at Richard and slowly shook his head in that I-will-never-understand-the-lunacy-of-adults way. Then he returned his attention to an important matter, his pizza.

  When Genevieve kept staring, Richard finally said, “You’re not going to let me off the hook, are you?” She shook her head, and he said, “Can we at least drop it for now and simply enjoy the remainder of our meal?”

  ****

  After the pizza had been demolished, they all walked across the street to enjoy some ice cream. “Double Chocolate Fudge Brownie Monster Chunk for me!” declared Max.

  “Peanut Butter Marshmallow Chocolate Madness please!” Genevieve added. Then she and Max went to sit down while Richard ordered the ice cream.

  “So, Aunt Gen, you honestly didn’t know who he was?” When Genevieve shook her head, he said, “You’ve got to look him up online. His family grew up around here. Old money. Maybe back to Jamestown. Lots and lots of old money.” She raised her left eyebrow, and Max shook his head and laughed at her. “I know. Money doesn’t make the man. Blah, blah, blah.” After a second he asked, “So, was this supposed to be a date or a business meeting today? You never said.”

  Right as Genevieve opened her mouth to tell her nephew it most decidedly was not a date, Richard’s voice came from behind her, “A date, of course. How many business meetings have you been on that include pizza and ice cream? Business meetings have boring foods like salad and steak and desserts you can set on fire because people are busy trying to impress each other.”

  Is he out of his mind? Of course he is. Genevieve watched Max and said, “Not a word, you hear me?”

  “Not a word about what?” Richard asked.

  “Oh, come on, Aunt Gen. If I go to school tomorrow and tell people my aunt is dating the Richard Blakely, do you know how much my stock will go up?”

  “Not a word. I mean it.” Max rolled his eyes, let out a loud, over-exaggerated sigh, and threw himself into the kind of relaxed slump that no one but a teenager could master. “Max…”

  “Alright, alright, but if you make it to a third date, all bets are off.”

  Genevieve shook her head in mock despair, her red curls gamboling with the movement. Then she looked over at Richard and did a double-take, “Since when do men eat girlie ice cream?”

  Richard spied his colorful cone and asked, “Girlie ice cream?”

  Max tried to warn him, “Don’t argue with her. Trust me. Let her lecture you and get it out of her system. Eat the ice cream as fast as you can. If she can’t see it anymore, she’ll get over it quicker.”

  Richard inspected her, slowly took a bite of his cone, and said, “Did you just insult my ice cream?” Then, putting on a hideous fake western accent, he added, “Them’s fightin’ words, don’cha know?”

  Max tried to hide his laughter as Genevieve, face dead-pan and voice matter-of-fact, said, “Only girls eat fruity ice cream.”

  Richard eyed her ice cream cone and said, “You’re a girl, and I don’t see any fruit in your cone.”

  “No man! You never say that,” Max said in sympathy.

  “I, Mr. Blakely, Esquire,” Genevieve wound up, “am not a girl. I, Mr. Blakely,” she said his name with added emphasis, “am a woman of sophisticated tastes. You, on the other hand,” she waved her hand dismissively, “are eating girlie ice cream.”

  Richard tried to defend his choice of ice cream but was told again and again, “Only girls eat fruity ice cream.”

  Finally, Max asked, “So exactly what flavor is that, anyway?”

  Shamefaced, Richard answered, “Pineapple Pom Pom Sparkleberry Cheer.” Max and Genevieve laughed uproariously, and Richard joined in. When their laughter settled down, he told Max, “And you are most definitely not allowed to tell your friends at school about tha
t, my boy.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’d be shunned for life, a perpetual outcast of the high school social strata. I’m taking that secret all the way to the grave.”

  “Alright, gentlemen, the evening grows late. I am supposed to have the prince home before he turns into a frog.” They all pitched in to clear the table off before heading back out to Genevieve’s micro-mini car. “Hand over the keys, kid.” When Max tossed her the keys without complaint, Richard looked at her in question. Shrugging, she said, “Let’s just say I’m not yet brave enough to let him behind the wheel after dark.”

  ****

  After Max was waved off with more congratulations for making the cross-country team, Genevieve and Richard got back into her car, and she swung it around to head toward the school. “Thank you for spending time with us this afternoon,” she said. “That was nice of you, and it cheered Max up. I’m sure you’re a busy person.”

  “It was my pleasure, Gen.” When she gave him an odd look, he asked, “Should I not call you that?”

  She shrugged and answered, “Just sounded different coming from you.” Liar! In truth, hearing the familiar name on his lips had sent a shockwave of energy ricocheting through her body.

  After a moment of silence, Richard asked, “Would you like me to tell you about my family?”

  She forcefully kept her tone light as she said, “Since you know all about mine, I think it’s only fair.” Maybe if she kept him talking and concentrated on listening, she wouldn't be quite so cognizant of their close quarters. As it was, Genevieve was keenly aware they no longer had a teenage chaperone.

  Richard chuckled softly, as if he was flipping through a favorite photo album in his mind and trying to choose which of the family pictures to share with her. Fondness filled his voice as he said, “My grandfather is the key to the story, but you need to know a little about my great-grandparents in order to understand him better. My great-grandparents came through the Depression. They struggled to survive, and that shaped who they became. Even when the economy began to turn around and get better, a lot of depression-era people kept habits formed during that time. Some people became hoarders, but thankfully, my great-grandparents didn’t go down that road.” The man was a great storyteller. She had to give him that. His voice wove a spell that made Gen want to step into the tale and see it with his eyes.

  “Still, they remained extremely frugal. They didn’t spend money unless they had to. Nothing was replaced unless it was beyond all hope of repair. That’s the world my grandfather grew up in. Every piece of clothing he had from the time he was born until he left home was handed down, handmade, or given to the family. He went to college, but he had to work two jobs in order to pay his tuition. College, he often told me, wasn’t about learning a trade. It was about learning how other people lived. His goal was to do business with upper-class people, but he knew he’d never succeed unless he could fit in with them. So he went to college.”

  “He sounds like a smart man,” Genevieve said.

  Richard smiled, “He was indeed, but he never let it go to his head. I suppose my grandmother helped with that. They met at a social gathering he’d accidentally been invited to.”

  “How does one get accidentally invited?” she asked him, whether out of curiosity or to stretch out her time with him as he told the story, not even she was sure.

  “He did a good job of fitting in. The family that invited him thought he came from money. They’d never have invited him if they’d known the poverty from which he hailed.”

  Richard stretched his legs as much as the small car would allow, and Genevieve continued to drive, deciding the scenic route back to the high school would do just fine tonight. Maybe he won’t notice that we’re heading in the opposite direction of the school.

  Picking the story back up, Richard said, “It was love at first sight for both of them. My grandmother’s parents approved because they thought he came from money. When he told her the truth about his financial situation, she knew her parents would denounce him and forbid her from seeing him again. Perpetrating a lie against the family wouldn’t be the problem. The hardship from which he came would be his undoing. The thing over which he had no control would be his biggest offense in her parents’ eyes.”

  Genevieve braked at a red light and glanced over at Richard. He seemed lost in the tale. His expression was almost vulnerable, not something she would have associated with him up to this point. Of its own volition, her hand began reaching out toward him. Before she could touch him, though, the light turned green. She pulled her hand back and continued driving. What on earth am I thinking?

  “My grandmother,” Richard continued, never having missed a beat to begin with, “convinced my grandfather to run off and elope with her. So that’s exactly what they did. Her parents cared a lot about appearances. Once the two were wed, they couldn’t allow their daughter to live in a tenement with a working-class husband – it would be too embarrassing for them. Instead, they gifted the newly married couple with ten million dollars.”

  “That’s quite a generous gift,” she interjected. Her shock that anyone could talk about such a large sum of money so casually only emphasized, in her mind, the immense chasm between her and Richard’s worlds.

  He shook his head, “It wasn’t so much a gift as it was a bribe. They wanted my grandfather to take their daughter and go far away.”

  “Oh,” Genevieve said. “That seems awfully harsh.”

  Richard nodded. “That’s an understatement.” He went on to say, “My grandfather had a different idea about how to handle the situation. There was no way he was going to let his wife’s family shame her. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was love. Either way, he took that ten million dollars and put it to work. He had a brilliant mind for figures and business. He instinctively knew where and how to spend his money. They never did move away, and my grandmother’s parents never forgave my grandfather for that. In their own twisted way, they managed to take it as a personal insult when he became successful.”

  Genevieve, who had never been able to resist cheering for the underdog, said with triumph in her voice, “I’m glad he was successful.”

  Richard looked at her with his eyes that, even in the dim interior of the car, shone brightly, and said, “Within the first twenty years of their marriage, my grandfather converted the ten million dollars into more than two hundred million, and then he kept going from there.”

  Genevieve’s gasp filled the car. He looked at her sadly, ostensibly knowing she saw an unscalable wall of differences between them.

  “You wouldn’t have known it to spend time with them. My grandparents were wonderful.” His voice had taken on a wistful quality, and Genevieve’s heart sank.

  This is never going to go anywhere. Why does he have to be so nice? Seem so ordinary? It would be easier to walk away if he were arrogant and pretentious.

  “Kindness, generosity, and love were the benchmarks by which my grandparents measured their own worth. They supported many different charities and gave anonymous gifts to people in need all over the community. And they loved me unconditionally.”

  The warmth in his voice changed to sadness as he said, “My grandparents were only ever blessed with one child, a son. They did their best to raise him well. Nevertheless, he developed a taste for the finer things in life and didn’t see why he should have to work when there was so much money lying around for the taking. His choice for a wife reflected his ideals. My mother was vain and self-involved. They were well-suited. They were each their own top priority and saw no reason to deny themselves or limit their excesses. My father died when I was twenty. Cirrhosis of the liver. My mother died of complications following plastic surgery when I was twenty-five.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Genevieve said kindly, wishing she didn’t hurt for the young man he’d been when he’d suffered those losses.

  “Thank you,” he said. “It was hard, but having my grandparents to love me made all the difference. I moved in
with them when I was in high school and had been living with them for a month before either of my parents realized I’d moved out. I loved my folks, but as you can imagine, we weren’t that close.”

  “Your grandparents are both gone now?” she asked.

  Nodding, Richard said, “They were killed in a car accident two years ago.”

  “I am so sorry,” Genevieve said. “I can’t imagine suffering so much loss.”

  Melancholy drifted through the car like a shadow in the waning daylight. Richard shrugged and said, “Death is a part of life. I still miss them, some days like crazy, but they taught me from a young age that death is not the end. I’ll see them again someday, of that I’m sure.” Then, evidently trying to lighten the mood, he added with a grin, “Just not too soon, I hope.”

  Genevieve drove in silence for a while. She had so many questions, but despite her meandering, they were nearing the high school. Richard sighed in the seat next to her. Running his hand over his face as if trying to wipe away a memory, he said, “I still have a proposition for you, but I’d like to meet you at my office sometime later this week to explain it.”

  “Why can’t you tell me now?”

  Richard chuckled mirthlessly. “Life has taught me a few things. I have money, which means I don’t often meet sincere people. I think you, Genevieve Mason, are the genuine article. The least I can do is give you a couple days to check me out, dig for dirt, do whatever you need to do so you know who you’re dealing with.”

  “Is there much dirt to find?”

  Stiffening slightly, he answered, “We all have dirt, Gen. Having money doesn’t clean people up any more than not having money does.” When she nodded her agreement, he continued, “I’ve not been a saint, but I’ve tried to live a good life. Regrettably, having money makes me a target. There are a lot of rumors and accusations out there. If you are going to enter into an agreement with me, I want you to know who you’re getting into bed with.”