And then there was the emotional response of all the carefully glued-together pieces of his soul.
One second at a time, he reminded himself.
You live one second at a time.
Even if it feels like they’re all dumped on you at once.
Bzzz.
Work phone.
James McCormick.
Come back now, is all the text said.
Yes, sir, he replied automatically, stuffing the inheritance papers in his front jacket pocket, a cold dread filling him. He’d never been summoned back to the hospital so quickly for the elder McCormick.
This wouldn’t be good.
For months, the old man had hidden his true condition from his kids. What little he shared with Gerald made it hard to gauge. The cycle seemed to be treatment, fatigue, recovery.
Gerald never asked. Wasn’t in his job description. He took orders, watched for danger, and worked to make the lives of the McCormick men as glitch-free as possible.
In return, they didn’t ask him questions about his life, either.
A good bargain.
Back at Dana Farber fifteen minutes later, Gerald live-parked and marched straight for the reception desk. Years ago he’d learned that the same skills used in managing recruits—namely, to pretend you had ultimate authority—worked well on people whose job was simply to point the way.
Five minutes later, he was in a private room with James McCormick, who looked like someone had drained all the blood out of him.
“Excuse me,” said a small woman with a shock of grey hair amidst thick, dark brown waves. “Are you Mr. McCormick’s son?”
Both Gerald and James McCormick looked scandalized at the thought.
“No. I’m his chauffeur.” Not quite true, but that was the face they showed to the world.
Her demeanor changed, an injection of sympathy in the look she gave McCormick. “I see. Then patient confidentiality means that I cannot comment on his condition.”
“He’s fine,” McCormick grunted.
She gave Gerald a no-nonsense look. “James had an adverse reaction, so we’re halting treatment today.” She patted McCormick’s hand. “It happens.”
“It hasn’t happened to me before,” McCormick said weakly.
“Self-care for the next week is mandatory.” She looked at Gerald. “We gave him some anti-anxiety and anti-nausea medication. He shouldn’t be left alone for the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”
“Quit talking about me like I’m not in the room. I’m fine,” McCormick snapped.
“Your labs say otherwise, Mr. McCormick,” the doctor announced. She shrugged and left.
He made a dismissive noise. “Let’s go,” the old man said, gruff and angry.
“Sir?”
McCormick began to stand, then keeled to the right in an alarming fashion. By his side in seconds, Gerald grabbed him in time, keeping him upright.
“I could use a sit-down,” McCormick said, as if he were asking for a martini. With great care, Gerald spent the next ten minutes moving him to the main foyer, then out to the SUV. It was like moving a box you can’t lift, one shove at a time, except Gerald had to be gentle.
“I hate these machines,” McCormick growled as Gerald worked to find the smoothest way in. He had to give McCormick credit; it was much easier helping a sick person into a traditional limousine vs. an SUV.
“Home.” The simple word carried so much.
“Sir, should I call one of your sons to help—”
“No! Absolutely not.”
“I’m sure they would want to know—”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
Any other man would have been cowed by James McCormick’s tone, but Gerald took it in stride.
“No, sir.”
“I don’t appreciate my chauffeur telling me how to live my life.”
All right. That was it.
“If I were just a chauffeur, sir, I would agree. But I am your security detail as well, and I would be remiss in my duties if I left you alone while compromised.” Gerald pulled out his best commanding voice, planning on the spot, figuring out all the moving parts as they rolled out so he could find a way to make sure the old man was going to be okay.
“Excuse me?” The belligerent tone was fading, though McCormick’s demeanor was stiff.
“It’s a matter of corporate integrity, sir.” Thinking on his feet, Gerald decided the best approach was to appeal to the man’s sense of pride and his business acumen. “Anterdec needs you. I work for Anterdec. I would hate to have to face the board of directors in the future to explain why I left one of their most valuable assets ill and alone.”
“Their most valuable asset,” McCormick corrected him with another harumph.
“Of course.”
“Andrew may be CEO now, but I built this company from the ground up. I sacrificed and deferred.” He paused, taking in a slow, deep breath. “I gave everything to my company.”
“And your results are admirable.”
McCormick watched him, eyes narrowing, as he breathed slowly and thoroughly, clearly working on managing whatever physical state made him so pale, so angry.
“Yes. They are.”
“And a man of your stature should have someone here to help take care of any matters that might require assistance, like phone calls, rescheduling, errands...”
“That person is you.”
“Sir, I have a two p.m. appointment. I have to leave by half past one.” He looked at the clock. 11:15. “Should I call Becky?”
“Becky?” McCormick’s eyes flew open. He looked like someone shot him in the chest. “Hell, no.” Rumor had it the old man had been sleeping with his executive admin for a few years, and Gerald had wondered.