“You don’t have to give up. I won’t stand for it. You deserve your father’s company. He couldn’t give you a sense of legitimacy growing up, but he entrusted you with his legacy. Sure, you’re going through tough times right now, but that’s no reason to quit.”
He was shocked at how firm and resolute she was in wanting him to continue, but it wasn’t in him. The Southern division was gone. The West Coast division belonged to Zarah, and in her frail state, he wasn’t going to jeopardize her physical and psychological stability for business. “This has been a good ride,” he said, standing and tapping on the desk before walking toward the door. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. You’re the only one who was with me from the beginning and never wavered.” He scooped her up into his arms, grateful to have Sherry as his mother. His existence had been livable during the early years, crammed with rejection from others, because of her nurturing.
“Where are you going?”
“To prepare my resignation letter.”
“No, Joel, no, at least wait until the morning. You might feel differently.”
“I can wait, but my mind is made up. I’m tired.” Saying the words gave him a surge of relief. The war was over. He’d lost to the seasoned warrior. Tonight he would collect his thoughts. Tomorrow he’d call Don. “God help me,” he began uttering after Sherry left, intent on completing a full prayer for the first time in many months, longer than he could precisely recall.
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Joel decided not to call ahead. He pulled into the valet parking, intending to run in and out. The valet approached his car. “I’m here to see Don Mitchell, my brother.”
“Oh, I-I didn’t know. I mean I haven’t met you before,” the valet said.
It was no wonder. Joel and Don weren’t brothers, not really. “Do you mind if I leave my car here? I don’t let too many people drive it.” Actually, he didn’t let anyone drive his car. The Lamborghini was his and his alone, one of the few things on earth that was.
“No problem, you can leave it here.”
“You sure? Because I can move it to the side.”
“No problem, here is good. If we need to move your car, we’ll buzz Mr. Mitchell’s unit.”
Joel went inside to the front desk. He hadn’t been to Don’s condo in such a long time. He didn’t remember the number. “Excuse me, I’m here to see Don Mitchell.”
“And your name?”
“Joel,” he said, questioning his conviction about being there. “Joel Mitchell.”
“Mr. Mitchell, is Mr. Mitchell expecting you?” the security guard asked, then chuckled.
Joel chuckled, too. “I know, there’s two of us, and no, he’s not expecting me,” he said, pacifying his urge to bolt from the building without Don knowing he was ever there. His rational thoughts said no, stay.
The security guard made the call and Don must have given the clearance because the guard beckoned for the lobby attendant. “Mr. Don Mitchell is waiting for you on the thirty-fourth floor. He’s in unit eight. Will you need assistance in the elevator?”
“I can make it, but thanks.” Joel wanted to dart in, handle his business, and hit the road. He entered the elevator, and when the doors opened Joel forced his feet to move. There was no changing his mind. This conversation was long overdue. Joel wasn’t going to leave until Don heard from him. There he stood, in front of door number eight. He paused, collecting his thoughts and reinforcing his tenacity. He wasn’t a loser. He was a man who understood opportunity and wasn’t afraid to capitalize on it. He rapped on the door.
Don opened almost immediately and stood there, appearing dumbfounded.
“Your face says it all, big brother. You’re totally surprised to see me here.”
Don leaned on the door, nodding yes. “Let’s just say my condo isn’t on your list of frequently visited places.”
“Haven’t been here in at least what, six or seven years?”
“Something like that,” Don said, firming his grip on the door.
“Well, this won’t take long. I’m here to tell you that it’s yours.”
“What’s mine?” Don said, planting both feet in the doorway and crossing his arms tight across his chest.
“DMI, it’s yours.”
“What is this, some kind of joke?” Don said, leaning on the door again.
“Trust me, this is no joke.” Joel felt helpless in the hallway but wasn’t about to ask to come in. There wasn’t much else to discuss. It wasn’t like they were going to share a cup of espresso and pass the time talking about current events. That was too farfetched for him and his brother to have that kind of relationship. He didn’t dare dream of such a scenario. He let his concentration return to the moment.
“Then what is this about?” Don asked, not yet inviting Joel inside.
“I’m resigning, effective immediately.”
Don burst out in laughter. “I know this is a joke now. What gives, little brother?” he said, zipping the laughter in a single breath.
“I have to step down.” He didn’t want to get into details about Zarah or her attempted suicide or his money woes. If he could resign and get out of there with a fraction of his dignity intact, then today could be redeemed and become something other than a complete disaster.
Don beckoned for him to come in. Joel hesitated and then accepted the offer, set on leaving quickly.
“Can I get you anything?” Don walked further into the condo. Joel remained by the door. “You want to take a seat?”
“No, I’m good. I’ve done what I came to do.”
“Just like that, you’re out, after the years of feuding with me and my mother for control of DMI, you’re stepping down just like that?”
“Just like that,” Joel said slowly, clearing his throat.
“You have to admit, this is hard to believe, at least for me it is,” Don said.
“For me, too,” Joel hesitated and then went on to say, “this wasn’t how I saw this playing out, but circumstances happen, big brother. Life happens.” The helpless sensation hadn’t subsided much from being inside the condo. Joel was ready to go.
“Don leaned against the foyer wall. “Have you told the board yet?”
“Just you, you’re the only one that I’ve told—and Don, I’d like to make the transition quickly.”
“Like how quickly?”
“Today, if you can get the board members together today. I want out.”
“I don’t know if today will work.” He could tell Don was contemplating the timing, but today was it.
“That’s my offer. I don’t know where my head will be on this tomorrow. If you want the CEO position, this is it, your shot, today. Do you want it or not?”
“Yes, yes, I want it. I’ll get the members together. Don’t you worry.”
“Worries are something I have plenty of,” he said, finding a shred of humor and spreading it throughout his crushed soul. “So, it’s done,” Joel said, turning to leave.
“I have to ask you, little brother, why are you handing over the company? I’ll gladly receive it, but this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, knowing how attached you are to DMI.”
There was plenty to say, to explain, to rationalize, none of which mattered. He opted to take the condensed response, the one that reflected the source of his agony and disappointment. “It’s not the same DMI that I was chosen to run by our father. It’s a different place with a different vision,” he said. Joel had to get out of there. The space was closing in on him.
“That’s a good point. What about Harmonious Energy? That doesn’t fit in with the strategic direction of DMI.”
“You can divest Harmonious Energy. That company belonged to my wife’s father,” he said, letting his gaze plummet to the floor.
“Are you all right?” Don asked.
Joel waved him off. “It’s part of her father’s legacy. I wouldn’t ask her to give it up. Let’s find a way to divest it from DMI.”
“What about
the West Coast division? Harmonious Energy owns it.”
“My wife actually owns it outright. I can convince her to sell it to DMI if you want.” It was becoming difficult to stay composed. He had to go and reached for the doorknob.
“I do want it back. What about the Southern division? How can I get that?”
The longer he stayed the more of his integrity melted. “Uncle Frank can help you with that one. All I can say is good luck.”
“Uncle Frank? what does he have to do with this?”
“You don’t want to know. Call him, if you want the Southern division. You might have a shot at it.” He twisted the knob until it clicked and then opened the door. “My luck wasn’t so good but, then again, you have a pretty important partner on your side.”
“Who, Abigail?”
Joel pointed up to the ceiling. “I remember those days,” he said, stepping into the hallway.
“God’s love for you hasn’t changed. He’s right where you left Him.” Don told him.
“Maybe so,” Joel said and took the slow walk down the hallway. “I guess I’ll have to see.”
“Joel,” Don called out. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”
Joel pinched his lips together and kept heading toward the elevators. There was nothing left to say or do. It was done.
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Don closed the door in a fog of doubt equally matched with certainty. Joel’s visit left him pondering. Elation wasn’t automatic. He was bombarded with questions, emotions, and reflections. Don tried to calm his mind, with no success. Anxiety and restlessness paralyzed him. Better to take a seat. Let his mind quiet so he could hear God clearly. The idea of Joel stepping down was too unimaginable. Don drew in the longest breath he could take and held it. If it were real, according to Joel he had to act without delay. If it was cruel trickery that Joel was pulling, Don didn’t know what he’d do. He bolstered faith in the unimaginable by God’s grace, grabbed his keys, phone, and exited the condo, setting out to claim his fate. He called Naledi, as soon as the valet retrieved his car from the resident parking garage, eager to share the news with her.
Ten thirty. Don rolled into the DMI parking lot letting his car creep down the first row, reserved for the executive team and handicaps. He stopped at the empty CEO spot and sat there. No one was behind him. He didn’t want to use the spot yet. It was out in the open. He considered taking the CEO spot in the covered garage around back, but decided against it until he told Madeline and Abigail the news in person. His victory was theirs also, especially his mother’s. Today she’d planned to be in the office long enough to pack a few of her belongings. He couldn’t guess how many boxes would be required to pack forty years of memories. She was adamant about leaving but unwilling to completely surrender her office. He understood, but none of that was necessary. The storm had passed and he was finally the one steering the ship. The precise position he wanted and had been destined to assume.
He walked in with an air of confidence, sure of his position, tough, when the gravity of the moment rushed him from the weak side and mentally tackled him to the floor. His body was standing while crumbling internally. He spoke to the people at the receptionist desk, made contacts with the small few in the lobby, and pushed the elevator button, appearing that business as usual was in order. His heart was pounding into his rib cage, blood rushing through his veins. He had to sit, quickly. Perhaps the realization of wanting something so intensely for so long and then constantly being denied it day after day had forced him to develop a protective shield. Pushing, scheming, planning, praying, hoping, and only recently preparing for this point in time, when he could claim the role of CEO.
His legs miraculously carried him to his mother’s office without incident. Inside, he closed the door and leaned against it. “What’s wrong with you?” Madeline asked, delicately placing a framed photo in a covered box.
“Joel stopped by my condo a little over an hour ago.”
“That’s a shock. What did he want? Did he threaten you?”
“Just the opposite,” he said, standing in the same place and leaning against the door. “Joel has offered to resign.”
Madeline stopped packing and said, “Quit being so mean, Mr. Mitchell. You see that I’m packing. I can’t leave any faster. You and that sister of yours will have to wait a few more hours before you send in the buzzards to pick my bones,” she said, wrapped in a dash of humor.
“Mother,” he said taking his first step toward her, “I mean it. This is no joke. Joel came to my place a little while ago to let me know that he’s resigning.”
She plopped into her chair. It was like watching the air deflating rapidly from a balloon. She should have been screaming with satisfaction, but none of that happened. The shock was too powerful, as it had been for him. He knew God was able to deliver, but Don wasn’t looking for Joel to surrender.
“This is too much to wrap my brain around. Give me a minute,” she said, grabbing her pen and tapping frantically. “Did he say why?”
“Nothing other than that he had to step down.”
“Yes!” his mother belted out. “Finally, we drove him out.” Madeline spun around in her seat, probably taking in the moment like he had.
“But we can’t celebrate, not yet. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself until we have the board meeting.”
Madeline glanced at her watch. “It’s going on eleven.” She seemed concerned.
“We have to act quickly.”
“You’re right, before Joel regains his senses, or do I mean before he loses them again? Oh, I don’t know.”
“Let’s just say before he changes his mind again,” Don said.
“That’s it, exactly.”
“Do you think we can get an emergency meeting together on such short notice? You seem to have the special touch when it comes to getting people here when they hadn’t planned on coming,” he said, taking a seat and relaxing a bit.
“Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of it. We’ll have the board here for a three o’clock vote, no later than four.” She picked up the phone’s handset. “By the close of business today, you will be CEO.” Her voice dipped. He was sure her euphoria was taking over. She waved him out. “Go, go get Abigail up to speed,” she said, setting the handset down temporarily. She set the half-packed box in the corner of the room. He would have gotten it for her, but she didn’t give him time. “Go, I have to pull a meeting together, the most important meeting of my life and of yours,” she said, wearing a well-formed grin. “Don,” she said as he reached the door. “Congratulations, son, on becoming CEO of your father’s company. Better late than never.”
He mouthed the words “thank you” and left. Abigail was next. Don walked past a few offices as Sherry met him in the hallway. She handed him an envelope. “What’s this?”
“I came in to give you my resignation. I know Joel has resigned and I’m saving you and Madeline the trouble of firing me. I’ll be out by this afternoon.”
Don had forgiven his father for the actions of the past and had chosen to forget the pain and rejection that resulted throughout much of his life. The trip to Robben Island came to him. He wouldn’t soon forget the stories about how Nelson Mandela was tortured in prison and forced to live in subhuman conditions. It was enough to spur a lifetime of bitterness. Yet Don vividly recalled the tour guide emphasizing how Mandela had forgiven his perpetrators and encouraged others to do the same. Don didn’t profess to have the same conviction or calling as Mandela, but he understood the healing power of forgiveness. It was the only way to build a future. Don was willing to give Sherry the same grace. “I’m not accepting your resignation.”
“What are you talking about? Take this. I’m leaving. I couldn’t bear the thought of you firing me,” she said with tears forming in her eyes.
He’d been fired by Joel and remembered how it felt. There was no need to force that gloom on her. “I have two questions. Do you want DMI to succeed, and do you feel
like you have skills to contribute to the company?”
“Why, yes,” she said without hesitation.
“Do you want to stay on board? That’s the bottom line.”
“I’m not sure. Joel needs my help with Zarah, and I don’t know what I need.”
“Then you decide. If it turns out that this is where you want to be, the job is yours.”
Her gaze dropped. “Thank you for the offer. I honestly believe you’re sincere, but I can guarantee you that with Joel gone, Madeline will make it open season on me. I don’t have the stomach to keep fighting with your mother. Frankly, I’m tired. I did it for Joel, but I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Like I said, the job is yours,” he said, handing her the envelope and briefly letting his hand rest on hers. “Don’t you worry about my mother. As CEO, my job is to protect the vision, the company, and each employee that God has allowed to work here, and that includes you.”
Sherry let her eyelids close. The trickle of water glided down her cheek. “Thank you. I’ll see how much Joel needs me, and who knows, maybe I’ll be back.”
“Do what you have to do. We’ll be here.” Don held her hand tight, and then, without reservation, hugged her. She relaxed her body and he could feel the tears through his shirt.
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It wasn’t official yet, but Don felt like the CEO-elect. Certainty showered him. Confidence poured into his spirit and he stepped firm, eager to tell Abigail. She’d weathered the DMI storm with him and deserved to know that the clouds had passed. He found her on the fourth floor in her office. “Knock, knock,” he said, seeing her door opened.
“Come on in. Take a seat, Mr. Mitchell,” she said, typing on her laptop and peering up at him a few times. “Are you here for a meeting?”
“I am,” he said, not wanting to spill the news yet. “It’s an emergency board meeting.”
“Really,” she said with curiosity piqued, evidenced by the giddiness in her demeanor. “I didn’t realize there was a meeting.”
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