Holding a glass of iced tea, Eve Franklin strolled into the family room of her childhood home. Sundays with her parents were a sacred tradition, one that she never neglected in favor of her career or social life. Some of her girlfriends complained about her refusal to go on weekend escapades with them, lamenting that she saw enough of her parents when she went to work every day. Though she did work in the family business as chief financial officer of Franklin Technologies, Incorporated, she rarely saw her parents for more than a few minutes during a typical workday.
Her best friend, Lina, and some of her book club gal pals had taken off for the beach that weekend. Living in Charlotte, North Carolina, meant the best of both worldsâhalf a dayâs drive to the east or west delivered one to the majestic peaks of the mountains or the shimmering beauty of the Crystal Coast. Despite Linaâs whining, protesting and threats, sheâd reminded the girls that Sundays were irrevocably reserved for her parents. As she settled into her early thirties, her parentsâ advancing age wasnât lost on her. She wanted to spend as much time with them as she could manage.
By now, the group was no doubt âcutting upâ at Linaâs rental property on Emerald Isle. But she quickly pushed the thought aside. She was right where she was meant to beâwhere she most wanted to be and she knew sheâd made the right decision.
Fading sunlight streamed in through the opened gold brocade drapes, illuminating the coffee table where a game of Monopoly was set up. The surround sound music system filled the large room with the sounds of instrumental jazz. The current piece featured the peppy strains of an acoustic guitar, the light airy notes of a flute and the accompaniment of a piano, while a plucked bass drove the beat.
The plush fibers of the midnight-navy carpet cushioned her bare feet as she crossed the room. She set the glass down on the short-legged mahogany coffee table, careful of the game board that already occupied the space. She used her hands to tug the hem of her yellow knee-length sundress. Reclaiming her seat on the floor, she grabbed her glass and took a sip. âWhose move is it?â
âMy turn.â Her mother, Louise, grabbed the pair of dice from the center of the game board. Shaking them inside her closed fist, she tossed the dice out, and then moved her iron-shaped game piece. âYour turn, Joseph.â
Eveâs gaze landed on her fatherâs face, and she couldnât help but notice how drawn he looked. His face was a mask of exhaustion, and a bit of moisture clung to the edge of his graying hairline. The brown eyes sheâd looked into all her life were now lacking the sparkle she was accustomed to seeing there. Now he looked ahead, almost as if looking through her, his expression vacant. âDaddy? Itâs your move.â
He blinked, then offered her a smile. âSorry, baby. Guess I checked out for a minute.â He picked up the dice, drawing them close to his lips, and blew on them for luck.
Eve shifted her gaze to her mother, who also viewed him with concern. Joseph Franklin was a hard worker, always had been. Heâd taken the reigns at a struggling software company in the early seventies, reshaped and restructured it, and made it into a powerhouse business. The years of labor heâd put in to turn FTI into a successful multinational software firm were beginning to take a toll on his health.
âDaddy, you look like you could use a nap.â She kept her tone light and casual, wanting to avoid setting off his notorious stubborn streak.
âIâm fine.â He set his car-shaped game piece on the designated spot and drew a card from one of the two piles on the board. âLooks like I won a beauty contest. Seventy-five dollars, please, Mrs. Banker.â He showed his card to Louise, who smiled as she counted out the multicolored fake bills from the plastic tray.
She could see right through her fatherâs attempt to change the subject. âReally, Daddy. You look tired. I donât want you overdoing it.â
He groaned. âBaby, I appreciate your concern but Iâm fine. Iâm not about to quit nowânot before you land on one of my properties with a hotel.â He gestured to a few spots on the game board. âThen youâre gonna owe me some serious cash.â
She knew better than to press her father, so she looked to her mother for support.
Louise handed over the rainbow-colored stack of money sheâd counted out for him. âMaybe sheâs right, honey. Sunday is the day of rest, after all, and weâve got a busy day tomorrow. A little extra sleep couldnât hurt.â
His face twisted into a frown and he lay his winnings down on the coffee table. âAll right. If itâll get you two off my case, then Iâll take a nap.â He scooted to the edge of the sofa, then used his hands to brace himself as he got into a standing position. âYou girls are always sending me to bed lately. Next, youâll be trying to goad me into retiring.â
Louise blinked, her eyes darting away from her husbandâs accusing gaze.
Eve drew a deep breath. Her father was almost seventy years old, well past the age most people would have retired, especially considering the financial security he enjoyed. She knew better than to point out his age, but she didnât think retiring was a terrible idea. It was doubtful heâd even consider it, so she chose a different approach. âWeâre just trying to take good care of you, Daddy. You think about work too much.â
He folded his arms across his chest, rumpling the striped fabric of his button-down shirt. âAnd youâd better be glad I do, otherwise we wouldnât be enjoying this lifestyle.â He gestured around the room as if to draw her attention toward the expensive oil paintings, brass fixtures and other material possessions around the space.
While all the things they owned were very nice, and she did enjoy having a measure of financial security and freedom, none of that mattered to her nearly as much as her fatherâs well-being. âYou know we appreciate all your hard work. I just donât want you to worry. When the time comes, Iâll be ready to take over at FTI.â
Silence fell in the room. She knew sheâd taken a risk by bringing up her eventual assumption of the CEO position, but she hadnât expected this. Studying her fatherâs face, she found it unreadable. Was he confused or feeling out of sorts due to whatever was ailing him? Or did he doubt her ability to