Matteo

by L. M Anthony

  Jane blew out a breath. “You expect a lot,” she said tartly. Damn him for making her feel responsible. He knew she couldn’t ignore his request if it meant someone else would pay for her failure. She reached out a hand for the folder, “What do you need from me?”

  She opened the folder, and within moments she slipped into a world of high stakes business deals, third world poverty, and her father’s battle to be human in the midst of it. She turned pages slowly, absorbing the facts and imagining the reality behind the dryly written minutes reports and quarterly update memos. Some of it was familiar, from stories her father had told her of his work and his interests. Some of it was surprising, like the fact that six months before, her father had apparently paid for the drilling and installation of several wells in multiple African countries. It was an ongoing project slated to last three years.

  At one point Elliot set a plate of takeout pasta at her elbow, and she ate mechanically, vaguely realizing she hadn’t heard him either place an order or get the door. The thick files, packed with information on different businesses and properties, told Jane the full story of her father’s philanthropic business practices. Reading them was at once torturous and comforting. Oh, Dad. How I miss you, she thought.

  With an ache in her chest and unnoticed tears drying on her face, Jane flipped the final page in the last file. Slowly, she returned to herself, to the elegant New York City apartment and the older man sitting patiently across from her.

  “I don’t know why you brought these to me,” she said, gently stacking the files together and setting them back in his briefcase. “From what I can see, there is little I would do that isn’t already being done. My father left good people, trustworthy people, in charge of all of his affairs. It appears that he has backup plans to his backup plans and every detail has already been thought of. What am I meant to be deciding?”

  Elliot sat upright in the chair, his suit just as crisp and pristine as it had been when he arrived, though Jane could see by the window that it was nearly dark now. He smiled slightly. “There isn’t much for you to decide on right now,” he said, holding up his hand to forestall her protest. “But there will be. I told you that this was to show you where you stand. Your father has put many safeguards in place, this is true. But to keep his enterprises running smoothly and efficiently, there must be one unifying mind behind it all. That mind is now you. This was merely an introduction to your education. To whet your appetite, one might say.”

  Jane shook her head. “I might have known, Uncle Elliot,” she said, and she couldn’t decide if she was angry or resigned. The horrible, empty blank sensation rushed back in to grip her, hollowing her out until her thoughts and emotions seemed to drop into a bottomless well with no context or connection to anything else. “You brought those to me to remind me of what a good man, what an important and public man, my father is. Dammit, was,” she said. She wouldn’t admit it had worked, her heart softening for the causes her father championed while she read the evidence of his kind heart and determination to leave a good mark on the world.

  “But you didn’t have to do that,” she continued. “I know who my father was, just like I know you’re really here to try to get me to step into his shoes and continue what he began. I know he saw me as his heir. Most of my education was designed to make me a fit replacement, but the truth is, I only did it to make him happy. It was never what I wanted.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the effect her next words would have. “You’re here to make sure I follow the plan, but you’ve wasted your time I’m afraid, Uncle Elliot. I have no intention of becoming the next George Bancroft. I can’t be him, and I don’t want to spend my life trying. Failing.”

  Elliot tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, “Then what, if I may ask, do you intend to become?”

  “Am I supposed to have a definitive answer to that?” she asked. A sharp spike of anger flared through her and died away. “It’s been three days, Uncle Elliot. Three days since we buried him, only a week since he died. Am I supposed to be fit by now to make decisions for people I’ve never met, in countries I’ve only seen on a map? Should I write down a five year plan?”

  Elliot eyed her impassively. “Are you quite finished?” he asked, his voice mild. “If so, I have a few things to say to you.”

  Jane sighed, annoyance and grief warring with sheer exhaustion. “Why are you here, Uncle Elliot? You should have already known I would never be able to step in and do what my father does. Did, anyway.”

  “I beg to differ,” he countered smoothly, folding his hands in front of him. “But that’s neither here nor there. No, my dear, I brought you those files so you would remember that there is a world still spinning out there, and we must move with it or else be left behind. Time doesn’t stop, life doesn’t stop. It continues inexorably on, and pulls us along with it. You will be much better off swimming with the current than fighting it to stay still.” He gave her a level look. “Even in the midst of grief.”

  Jane put her chin in her hand, “I know that’s what you think. I know that’s what Dad thought, too. But I would rather sort things out in private.”

  “You don’t live in private,” Elliot reminded her. “You never have. That’s not a luxury you’re likely to enjoy, especially once you begin to make decisions on these things. Your father left you a fortune. There is a lot of responsibility to that kind of money.”

  “What if I don’t want to make the decisions? What if I don’t want the responsibility?” Jane asked, frustration bleeding into her voice. “What if I just don’t do anything with any of this? What happens then?”

  Elliot sighed and spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly, “You don’t have that option, Jane. You are the only one there is to make these choices. You are the only one who knows both your father and his properties, his ventures. You can see the big picture, both in allocating resources and in steering the future of Bancroft holdings.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” Jane said slowly, fighting to keep her voice steady against a sudden bubble of hope in her chest. She felt a smile widen her face. “There’s you, Uncle Elliot. You probably know more than I do about Dad’s affairs. You’ve basically been his business partner for years.” Was this excitement, this vibrant, fuzzy feeling that was slowly spreading to her fingertips? “Why don’t you deal with the decisions and the people and the public?”

  Elliot shook his head before she finished speaking. “Out of the question,” he said flatly.

  “Why?” she countered. “Name one reason it wouldn’t work. One valid reason,” she qualified. “It can’t be simply because it doesn’t fit with what you think is the correct protocol for the situation.”

  “Believe it or not, Jane, protocol is important. How else would civilized people know how to behave in the situations in which they find themselves? There would be no understanding of decorum or what is appropriate.”

  “Is that really it, Uncle Elliot?” Jane asked quietly. “Are you telling me that the reason I must assume my father’s role, the reason that you won’t - even though you would be better at it and probably enjoy it more - is because people might talk?”

  Elliot paused, thinking. “Well, yes,” he said finally, looking uncomfortable. “It sounds rather ridiculous when you phrase it like that, but yes. I do believe that is what I’m saying. At least in its most basic form. I won’t have your reputation, or your father’s, tarnished because you failed to follow protocol and behave as our circles require.”

  “What if our circles are demanding too much?” she asked quietly, but she didn’t expect an answer. Silence stretched between them, full and unbroken. Finally, Jane spoke, her voice subdued, “I can’t be him, Uncle Elliot. I’m just me.”

  Elliot said nothing.

  Jane sat in silence, her gaze soft and distant as she tried to find a way out of this. The thought of putting on a suit and heading in to her father’s office tomorrow morning, of giving orders and making decisions with
a bird’s eye view of Manhattan out her window, made her stomach clench. How could she avoid the inexorable push to a role she didn’t want?

  Suddenly her eyes widened as she thought of a solution. “Send me away,” she suggested. “Out of the country, somewhere far.” She looked at Elliot. His mouth opened in a soft o of surprise.

  “I mean it,” she continued. “It’s perfect. There has to be some project or property that needs personal attention. We’ll tell everyone that’s where I went, leaving you to handle the rest of the business as my proxy. No one can argue the propriety in that. It’s more or less what Dad did whenever he would be out of the country for a time.”

  Elliot closed his mouth and shook his head, as if to clear it. “You can’t be serious,” he said, but she thought she could detect a hint of longing in his eyes. “This is your legacy, Jane. Taking over is what you’ve been raised to do, what you’ve been educated and prepared for all your life. I cannot and will not rob that from you.”

  “You’re not robbing me if I’m giving it to you,” Jane said, laying her hand on his. “Please understand that I don’t want this. I don’t think you’re trying to rob me of anything, and I don’t give a damn about anyone else’s opinion. I doubt anyone will blink an eye if you continue to run things, anyway. Everyone knows you, and everyone trusts you. They’ll likely be relieved if the chain of command is undisturbed.”

  He appeared to be thinking it over. He stroked a finger along his jaw, his eyes unfocused. “I suppose there is something to what you say,” he said, his voice low. He blinked and looked closely at her, concern etched on his face, “Where would you go? You can’t spend the rest of your life in this apartment.”

  Jane snorted bitterly. “Why not?” she asked. “It’s mine, isn’t it? I don’t have any plans for anything right now. I appreciate your concern for me, Uncle Elliot, but please understand, I’m no business mogul.” The blank void returned, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do, what I want to do with my life. I need some time to figure it out.” She held his gaze steadily. “Time outside of the public eye.”

  Silence filled the space between them. Jane rose and returned to her tea preparations. I want to crawl into bed, she thought, fatigue swamping her. I just want to sleep. Maybe when I wake it will all go away.

  When she turned back, she saw he had laid a single, slim file on the table. She gave him a curious look and went to it, flipping open the cover. It was a photograph, weathered and curling at the edges. It showed an old Italian farmhouse. The older, main part of the house was made of stone and rose high above the newer brick wings added to each side. The lush landscape around it beckoned to be explored, even in black and white. The house seemed to be waiting for her, exotic and secret. She looked up again, “This one wasn’t in your briefcase.”

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