Evelyn continued.
“They used to believe if they did good work, somebody would notice. Now people spend as much time proving their value as creating it.”
“That happens when companies grow.”
“Maybe.”
She did not sound convinced.
Then she added, “Richard isn’t a bad man.”
Daniel was surprised.
“I didn’t say he was.”
“I’m telling you because I know where your mind goes.”
Despite himself, Daniel smiled.
“You still manage me.”
“Somebody has to.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
“He sees the company from thirty thousand feet.”
“And?”
“Eventually people look very small from up there.”
The line stayed with Daniel.
He did not call Richard.
He almost did.
Twice.
Both times he stopped.
He had retired.
He did not want to become the founder who hovered over every decision and made professional management impossible.
Then the email arrived.
Mr. Mercer,
We would appreciate your attendance at Thursday’s strategic review.
The message was brief.
No explanation.
Daniel read it twice.
He was not a voting board member anymore.
But he was the founder.
The largest individual shareholder.
And, apparently, they wanted him there.
On Thursday morning he dressed carefully.
The navy suit.
White shirt.
Margaret’s silver watch.
Before leaving, he stopped beside an old photograph in the hallway.
Margaret stood outside the first warehouse holding a cardboard box.