Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“We could invest in a small freezing operation, yes,” I reply. “We can rent some of the equipment. And I found logistics companies that can transport the stock to retailers. We wouldn’t have to have our own trucks.”
Dad shakes his head. “Our fruit is fresh. We’ve always prided ourselves on it.”
“But we’d freeze stuff the day it was picked,” Bray says. “People would actually be getting it fresher than if it was delivered fresh.”
“He’s right, Dad. And anyway, Bray had a good idea about approaching other farms who produce more exotic fruit and freezing that. We could buy it from them and then freeze it and sell it on.”
“That’s insane,” Dad says. “We’re a fruit farm. We want to be selling fruit, not buying it.”
“But what if we could be both?” I ask. “Frozen exotic fruit would give us a chance to develop a brand so people on the street, in the grocery store, would know Wilde’s Farm quality and could pick it for themselves.”
Dad fiddles with his cap. “It’s too risky,” he says. “Bray needs to focus on business here, not be hightailing it to wherever the hell they grow exotic fruit. We need all hands on deck here.”
Bray slumps his shoulders—defeated.
And any optimism I felt dives into my shoes. I hadn’t realized it until just then, but the idea of the freezing business brought with it so much hope. Not because it was Jack’s idea. Or because the freezing business would mean the end of any financial worries. It gave me hope that things could be different. That the future wouldn’t be the same as my past. And maybe Jack could have been a part of that.
TWENTY-NINE
Jack
Most of the workers have headed out already, but I’m going to stick around until Iris is done for the day, so I take a seat on the Adirondack chair by the packing barn.
The day in the late-September sun was just what I needed. It doesn’t hurt that I know Iris is in the office and I can picture her through the barn walls, studiously making sure every penny is counted and every spreadsheet perfected. Being close to her, even if I can’t see her, is something I’ve come to crave.
I close my eyes and chuckle to myself at how alien my internal thoughts would be to New York Jack. The Jack who brunches and goes to the ballet.
My cell rings. It’s my mother again. I don’t want to speak to her. Not today. Not now in this perfect moment. I should change her ringtone so I don’t even have to check caller ID.
While I have my phone in hand, I scroll through some emails. There’s the usual stuff. Things I can deal with tomorrow. But nothing much is happening until the annual meeting of the trustees in two weeks. I’ll have to go back to New York for that. During those couple of days, a full analysis of my family’s money will take place. What’s been earned compared to various other indices. What’s been spent. What needs to be spent next year. Then we’ll go through all the charities we’re supporting and how we’ll support them in the future.
My father will lead the meetings. I won’t speak much. It’s the same old, same old. I’m there to learn the ropes—even though I know the ropes inside out.
I’m pretty sure Iris and Bray work on margins that wouldn’t make it onto the balance sheet in my family’s business.
I scroll to an email from someone I haven’t heard from for a long time. A corporate finance guy who used to be at Goldmans but looks like he’s moved. I open it out of curiosity. I half expected him to invite me out to lunch or ask me if I knew someone he wanted an introduction to, but that’s not what his email says. He wants to talk about The Alden. He knows someone who wants a Midtown hotel.
Most hotels lease their buildings, but I own the building The Alden Hotel occupies. I wonder if he knows that? He’s suggesting a lunch to discuss. But I’m not in New York. I can’t just arrange a lunch.
It’s like someone’s pressed a button and a thousand thoughts are released at once. New York. Iris. The hotel. My friendships. My job. My life.
I don’t have a date for when I’m going back to New York. Yes, I’ll go back for the trustees meeting. But should I have a longstop date? Am I just waiting for Iris and me to fall apart? Am I expecting to get bored? And if I’m just holding out for a miracle, am I being selfish. By still having hope, am I making us both miserable in the long run?
I’m usually more focused on solutions. More optimistic. But that’s because I’ve had a lifetime of getting what I want. Things have come easily to me. Money solves a lot of problems. But now? Now I want something I can’t have. Now I want a life in Colorado with Iris. But my entire life has been spent preparing to hold the Alden family torch in New York.