Chuck’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m not the enemy here, Kyle. I’m trying to help. You’re right, he did build an empire. And now somebody needs to start running it. Otherwise, people will begin to say all sorts of things, whether you and I like it or not.”

Kyle got the message, loud and clear. And during the thirty-minute drive along Lake Michigan back to his father’s north shore estate, he debated what approach to take. Ultimately, he decided the direct one was best.

When he got back, he walked straight into the study and found his dad sitting at his desk, scrolling listlessly through photographs of an older-model car on his computer. Since his mother’s death, his father had expressed some interest in restoring a classic car, something he used to do as a hobby before his company had exploded with the Rhodes Anti-Virus.

“Find anything?” Kyle asked as he took a seat in front of the desk.

“A guy up in McHenry is selling a ‘68 Shelby,” Grey said in a subdued tone.

Every time his father spoke, it struck Kyle how unlike his father he seemed. Dispirited. Listless. Somber. A stark contrast to the dynamic, almost larger-than-life man Kyle had known for twenty-four years.

“McHenry is only about an hour away. Maybe we can drive out there tomorrow and take a look at it,” Kyle said.

“Maybe.”

Kyle had been suggesting excursions like this for the last three weeks, none of which had come to fruition. Although his dad talked about rebuilding a car, he didn’t seem to have much interest in taking any steps to actually pursue that. Then again, he didn’t have much interest in anything.

Grey turned to Kyle with a tired smile. “Maybe you could drive out there and look at the car for me. You need to get out of this house as much as I do.”

“Actually, I did go out today. I met Chuck Adelman for lunch.”

Grey’s face went flat. “Really. And what did Chuck have to say?”

Kyle decided it probably wasn’t the best time to bring up the Hash Wednesday revelation. Frankly, the image of his father wearing bell-bottoms, smoking a joint, and calling his mother a “totally groovy chick” was wrong on so many levels he wanted to erase the whole thing from his memory. “You need to start returning calls and e-mails,” he said bluntly. His father was a grown man—perhaps a little tough love was in order.

“Chuck is overstepping his bounds. He shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this.”

“I think it would be good for you to get back to work, Dad. It’ll be something to take your mind off things.”

“I don’t want anything to take my mind off things.”

Kyle sat quietly for a moment. “It’s not dishonoring Mom if we move forward with our lives. That’s what she would want us to do.”

Grey turned back to his computer. “I gave up so much for that company. Not anymore.”

The comment took Kyle by surprise. Because his father had grown up with little money, he’d always been particularly proud of his success. Talk to the man for five minutes, and he would find some subtle way of bragging about the fact that the Rhodes Anti-Virus protected one in every three computers in America. “What are you talking about? You love that company.”

Grey shook his head. “Not as much as I loved her. She was…everything. I just hope she knew that.”

His father began crying. Kyle started to rise from his chair, but his father immediately held out a hand.

“Don’t. I’m fine,” Grey said. He wiped his eyes, quickly composing himself.

“Dad—”

“I put off so many things,” Grey said, cutting him off. “That safari trip, for example. How many times did your mother talk about that? She did all the research and planned this two-week vacation to South Africa and Botswana for us. What did I say? That things were too busy for me and that we would go next year.” He struggled to control his emotions. “Guess I broke that promise, didn’t I?”

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “She also wanted to take a couples cooking class at six o’clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but that was tough for me to do with the traffic coming back from the city. So I told her we’d do it next year instead. I could go on and on about all the missed moments.” He looked over at Kyle, his face filled with regret. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, son.” His eyes were a distant, cool blue. “But the whole damn company can rot for all I care. None of it means anything without her.”

Kyle knew from his father’s quiet but firm tone that the conversation was over.

He left the study and called Chuck, and outlined his plan to the general counsel. Once his father was thinking clearly again, he could do whatever he wanted with Rhodes Corporation. He’d built the place, so if he ultimately wanted to sell it and spend the rest of his life rebuilding 1968 Shelbys in his five-car garage, that was his prerogative. But that decision was not going to be made by the man currently sitting behind his father’s desk—because that man was not Grey Rhodes.

Consequently, the following afternoon he met with the company’s eight executive vice presidents. He deliberately chose to meet with them in his father’s office and, just as deliberately, sat behind his father’s desk while he explained what the plan would be for the foreseeable future.

“The eight of you will carry on with the day-to-day responsibilities of your divisions,” he told them. “Any decisions that need to be made by the CEO should be presented to me, with your recommended plan of action. I’ll make sure my father responds.”