“Klein is an author.”
I know Paisley is trying to save me from having another experience similar to the one I had with her mother the night I met her, but it’s fine. She doesn’t have to lie for me.
“An aspiring author,” I amend.
“Not for long,” Paisley shoots back. She looks at her dad. “My company recently launched a digital marketing campaign centered around Klein’s work, with the goal of creating and fostering his online footprint to appease an interested publisher.”
Our appetizers arrive, and I squeeze Paisley’s hand where it sits on top of the table.
“Nothing against your book, Klein, but Paisley, if you worked for me you wouldn’t be delivering overly curated sentences about making stuff up and posting it.”
Paisley’s eyes drop down to her plate of melon wrapped prosciutto. “That’s not what I do.”
“What is it that you do, Andrew?” I’m changing the subject for the benefit of everybody at this table. If I have to listen to him put down his daughter even one more time he won’t like what I have to say.
“I own a wealth management firm.” Pride creeps into his voice. “Remember the housing bubble? I saw it coming and I shorted it.”
He must assume I know what that means, but I don’t.Nor do I want to, so I nod along to keep him from explaining it to me.
“Made my clients very wealthy,” he continues. “And me, too.”
“Congratulations on the, uh, shorting.”
Paisley lets out a garbled laugh. Andrew releases a tight smile, his first one since we arrived.
“Paisley here could have followed in my footsteps, but she decided to have a rebellious phase.” He sighs, giving her a look, meant to let her know he is still disappointed in her. “I could have eventually given her the keys to the castle, but she didn’t want them. She wanted to move across the country, and take classes that wouldn’t get her anywhere.” His cheeks are rosy from wine. “Did she tell you she took creative writing, Klein? Not surprisingly, she did not like it.” He points at her with his wineglass. “Just like I told her she wouldn’t.”
I’m waiting for Paisley to stand up for herself, but she doesn’t do it. She only sits there, quiet, gazing out the window.
If she won’t, I will.
“Andrew, have you ever been to P Squared Marketing?
“What is that?”
The guy doesn’t know the name of his daughter’s business? Doing my best to keep my already low, but still plummeting, opinion of Paisley’s father from my tone, I answer, “The name of Paisley’s firm.”
He glances at Paisley over the rim of his wineglass. “No.”
“You should visit her sometime and take a look at what she’s built.”
“I’m waiting for her to come to her senses and join me in my business.”
“I won’t,” Paisley says, her voice small but firm. “I love what I do. The people I help.”
“You can help people by managing their wealth.”
“Before Klein, I had a client who owns three local coffee shops and was struggling to connect with her customers, and?—”
“It’scoffee,” Andrew interrupts, “how hard can that business be? People are already addicted to your product.”
“That’s not what this woman saw for her business. She wanted an inviting environment, a meeting place, friendly faces and employees and patrons who developed rapport. But she didn’t know that was what she wanted, only that something was missing from her business. My team and I helped her figure out her vision, and use it to show people what she had to offer.”
Watching Paisley speak, gesturing with her hands, it’s clear she’s passionate about what she does. I have so much respect for that, for someone who loves what they do.
“That’s nice, honey,” Andrew says patronizingly. He’s not giving up, he’s merely switching tactics.
A fire lights in Paisley’s eyes, and just when I think she’s about to tell her dad off, the fire dies.
