The sun was already high when I stepped onto the green field, against my wishes. Saturdays were my father’s ritual—no meetings, no conference calls, just golf and quiet deals disguised as leisure. With Tyler trailing along every time, I somehow ended up in the mix today.
Lucien Hawthorne stood a few feet ahead with two of his longtime business partners and friends, men I’d known since I was a boy. They spoke in low tones about markets and mergers, laughing as though they weren’t having the same conversation they’d been having for twenty years.
“Focus, Tobias,” my father called, handing me a club. “You’ve been distracted lately.”
“Just tired,” I said, adjusting my glove. “Long week.”
He grunted, lining up his next shot. “You’re sending your father into an early retirement at this point,
