Chapter 2 HOW YOU HOLDING UP

"HOW YOU HOLDING UP?" Stuart asked.

"It hasn't been an easy few weeks, but I'm fine," Carrington said, swiveling the leather chair that had belonged to his father around with one hand. He could still smell his ole man in the office; in the leather of the chair.

"This is all yours now," Stuart said, his arms outstretched in the spacious corner office that had belonged to the premier founder of Shelby, Long, Anderson, and Wasserman; affectionately known as SLAW by all of its associates. Although competitors made fun of the acronym "SLAW," nobody laughed at the results they got for its clients. The attorneys were top-notch, and they covered every niche – from immigration, to corporate and environmental law. Flora was a corporate attorney, specializing in mergers and acquisitions. She'd chosen it because it paid well, and she was good at it. A natural stickler for detail, it served her well in her profession.

"Will you be taking an active role at the firm, maybe go back to practicing? I know nothing would have pleased your father more."

"I won't go back to practicing, but I will join the board; take father's place because it's what he wanted."

"That's true. A Shelby has sat on the board of directors since SLAW was founded. At least that tradition will never change. I know your father is looking down, proud of you."

"I'm afraid that tradition is in jeopardy. Alexandria has no interest in the law, and I wouldn't want her to sit on the board out of some morbid sense of duty to me. Even father wouldn't want that. He'd want his only grandchild to pursue her dreams."

"That he would. He doted on his granddaughter – and his only son," Stuart smiled, looking up at Carrington from the bush of his wise brows. "But the tradition doesn't have to die. You're still a young man. You have time to produce an heir who would be interested in taking over this firm one day."

Carrington laughed. "Stuart, the way you talk, I think you still think of me as the little boy scrambling in and out of father's lap. I'm forty-two – beyond the age where I care to have another child, especially as the only one I have is, thankfully, grown and desperately independent," he smiled, thinking of his daughter. She was a lot like her grandfather. Fiercely independent, but steadfastly loyal.

"I remember Jeb telling me about the day you told him your girlfriend was pregnant. I thought he was going to have a stroke right then and there," Stuart said, slapping his knee as he laughed at the memory of a teen-aged Carrington and his teen-aged pregnant girlfriend.

Carrington winced, recalling that day only too well. Now he could make light of it, but almost twenty-five years ago, it had been none too funny. "That is the very reason I only have one child. He made sure that I shouldered full responsibility from day one; threatened to disown me if I didn't do right by my child and her mother."

"And he meant it too! He had an alternate will drawn up. It cut you out completely."

"I never knew that," Carrington said.

"It's because the entire time he was ordering me to draft it, I was trying to talk him out of it. I knew he didn't mean it. He was just angry and disappointed, especially when you refused to marry Alexandria 's mother."

"We were both too young," Carrington said. "It never would have lasted. Even at eighteen, I knew that. I think father realized it too as time went on."

"I know he did. Just dictating the will did away with a lot of his anger, but the disappointment remained – until the day his granddaughter was born. Then he forgot all about you being a teen-aged father. He forgot that you refused to marry her mother. He forgot everything but Alexandria 's smile. She had him wrapped around her little finger from day one."

"And it lasted until the day he died. Lucky for me," Carrington said, sighing as he remembered the watery smile on his father's face at his only grandchild's birth. "But he didn't forget to make me live up to my responsibility. I had to work a full-time job, go to school and be involved as a father. He cut me no slack."

"Because he knew that if he started cleaning up your messes at eighteen, he'd likely be cleaning them up for the rest of your life. You meant everything to him Carrington, and he wanted you to live up to your potential; not like some of your spoiled compatriots whose parents bailed them out of every scrape they got in. Look at you now compared to a good number of them. Lazy layabouts. In and out of drug rehab. Sucking on the tit of their parent's money. Your father worked for everything he had. It would have been a disservice to his father – and all those who came before him – if he had cut you any slack, especially when you became a father so young.""I know. We had many conversations about it. But as a lad of eighteen, of course I didn't see it quite that way," he chuckled. "There was a time I was pretty sure he hated me."

Stuart, his father's long-time friend and attorney, chuckled. "Of course you thought he was a crotchety old bastard who just wanted to make your life a living hell. And for a time, I'm sure he did; to make sure you got the message that children are a responsibility and just because you come from wealth, it was no excuse for you to breed without taking responsibility ... Maybe that's why you don't want more children. You're enjoying the freedom you didn't have as a young man."

"Never gave it much thought, but that makes sense. I think of it more along the lines of Alexandria 's perfection. She broke the mold; no need for another child," he chuckled.

"She is something – beautiful and smart. Jeb was as proud of her as he was of you. He didn't even care that she didn't want to be a lawyer."

"I think he felt guilty for pushing me into it."

"He just wanted what was best for you."

"I know, and that's why I followed his wishes and went to law school. It wasn't because he pushed me into it. I knew it was a way to provide for myself and my daughter. After all, a good lawyer can always make a living, right?"