What Matters Most (chapter One)

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The invitation was sitting at the top of the day’s mail, and Will grimaced at it, already aware of its contents. He peeled off his damp suit jacket and hung it on the hook beside the front door, cursing the all-day rain, which was forecast to continue into the weekend. He was certain it would ruin Saturday’s golf game – possibly the most important round of golf he would ever play. His boss, Stuart Wexler, had invited him to be part of a foursome that included both the CEO and vice president of Murphy Sullivan, the firm’s largest client. Will knew he had only been invited because his colleague, Peter, the darling of the firm as far as Will was concerned, was out of town attending his father’s funeral. If the weather postponed the golf match, Peter would be back in time to reclaim his spot, and Will would be pushed aside for someone he considered of 1

WHAT MATTERS MOST

lesser ability. A sharp pain throbbed in Will’s left temple, and he absentmindedly placed a hand there, using the other to steady himself against the glass foyer table, accidentally scattering the top few pieces of mail to the floor. “Don’t lose that invitation. This is one family reunion we can’t miss.” Will released his hand from his head and turned to face his wife. He couldn’t understand why Hope would be so excited about spending time with his family. “You know I don’t have the time to get away,” Will said gruffly, trying to lower Hope’s spirits. From the instant change in her expression, he knew he had succeeded. “But Will, it’s Grandma Sarah’s ninetieth birthday,” Hope pleaded while on hands and knees, collecting the loose mail from the cold tile floor. “This may be your last chance to spend time with her.” “Knowing Sarah, she’s still got another dozen years in her. There will be plenty of other opportunities to visit.” Even as he said the words, he knew it didn’t matter. It had been ten years since he last attended the Allen family reunion, his father’s family. His parents had reminded him several times that they expected him to make an appearance, along with Hope and the kids. He fumed with anger thinking about his mother and father barking instructions at him as if he were a mere child. He was a grown man with a difficult job and many responsibilities. He was the one who did the reminding, not the other way around. As Will took the invitation from Hope’s hand and began to open it, he felt defeated, as if his fate had already been decided for him. 2

ROBERT SHENEFELT & KAREN BUSCEMI

The rain didn’t let up until Sunday morning as three of the four members of the Allen family sat around the kitchen table, chatting about the upcoming week and devouring the hearty brunch Hope had prepared. Will, still in a funk over the missed golf opportunity, sat alone at the breakfast bar, sipping black coffee and reading the business section of the local newspaper. “I want to go to the pool!” cried six-year-old Tess, who was just becoming a strong swimmer, especially the backstroke. “I’ll bet I can swim a lap faster than Nathan now!” “You’re dreaming,” Nathan replied as he dug into a tall stack of pancakes, not in the least bit threatened by his young sister’s prediction. “Yeah, dreaming of how good it will feel to beat you!” Tess’ short, sunny curls bounced about her head as she roared with laughter at her own joke. Hope smiled warmly at her children, dishing out seconds of sausage links. “Okay, I guess we have to schedule at least one pool day this week. How about Thursday?” “No, today! Today!” Tess pleaded. “I have to mow lawns today,” Nathan said. “Tomorrow’s better.” “No, today! I want to go right now!” cried Tess. The sound of the newspaper slamming onto the counter jolted everyone sitting at the table into silence. “Enough!” Will bellowed. “I don’t want to hear another word about the pool from either of you or you won’t go at all.” He picked up the paper again then threw it down one more time. “Why can’t I 3

WHAT MATTERS MOST

get any peace and quiet in this house?” Sliding from the stool, Will headed toward the front door, feeling an urgent need to get away from his home; from his family. He made sure the door slammed shut behind him. Speeding down the street in his car, Will turned up the radio and pressed harder on the accelerator. Nothing sounded better than to get away from home for a while, but he was too busy at work for a real vacation. The only chance he had to escape was his family reunion, and to Will, it sounded more like something to escape from. The Allen clan hailed from Hazleton, Pennsylvania, tucked away among woods and coal towns in the northeastern side of the state. Will hated the area, preferring a faster-paced life than available in his sleepy hometown. Most of the men in his family worked in factories, sold cars, or passed their days at unchallenging desk jobs; all vocations that made Will shudder. He held a masters degree in marketing and only wanted a job that could keep him climbing to the top of the ladder. He wanted a spacious office, an expensive car, and an expense account. He had acquired all those things, thanks to hard work and clocking countless hours. Considering his illustrious career, Will realized that he would have never had the opportunities to advance if he hadn’t moved away from home and started a new life in Detroit, where large advertising age ncies were plentiful. It was easy to move from company to company, advancing in title and salary with each jump. As an account director at Stuart Wexler, Will managed a dozen high-profile accounts, which called for daily hand4

ROBERT SHENEFELT & KAREN BUSCEMI

holding of top executives who knew little about developing successful advertising campaigns. Print ads, television commercials, and radio spots were Will’s strength. Company heads respected his determination and quick tongue. They listened to him, buying what he told them to buy and saying what he insisted they say. His clients made millions. And soon, an executive vic e president position would be his. But thanks to an uncooperative Mother Nature, Peter would get the next promotion. Will gripped the steering wheel with so much force that the tips of his fingers turned white. He didn’t like thinking about Peter. It bothered Will that Peter didn’t log the same number of office hours as he did nor did his colleague seem as stressed. “These are million-dollar accounts,” Will thought out loud. “How could anyone not be stressed?” The song on the radio changed to an old Bruce Springsteen tune that reminded Will of his summers as a boy, running through cor n fields with his male cousins. They used to stay up all night playing games and sneaking cigarettes, talking until the sun made its appearance again and they finally ran out of things to say. It had been years since he had given those boys the slightest thought. For a moment, a smile played on Will’s lips as he thought about seeing his cousins again, but it quickly faded as he pictured them all living the life he had escaped. What could he possibly have to say to them now?

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