Chapter 2 - THE SON WHO STOPPED CALLING
Wyatt had once called Abraham every Sunday.
That ended eleven months earlier.
The argument had started over the company.
Mercer Industrial Holdings owned three distribution warehouses outside Newark, a small trucking terminal, and a minority interest in a packaging manufacturer.
Abraham’s father, Harold Mercer, built the business.
When Harold died, he left sixty percent to Wyatt and forty percent to Abraham.
Abraham immediately transferred his shares into a long-term trust for Wyatt.
He wanted nothing to do with it.
Wyatt hated him for that.
“You’re dumping it on me.”
“I’m giving it to you.”
“Same thing.”
Abraham had spent his entire childhood watching Harold measure love in productivity.
Miss a baseball game?
Warehouse emergency.
Forget an anniversary?
Customer meeting.
Shout at the family?
Pressure.
Abraham became a public-school history teacher partly because it was the opposite of everything Harold respected.
Wyatt grew up hearing two versions of his grandfather.
From Abraham:
Controlling.
Brilliant.
Emotionally cruel.
From everyone else:
Self-made.
Disciplined.
A man who built something valuable.
When Wyatt inherited control at twenty-nine, he decided he would prove the company could be successful without becoming Harold.
For a while, he did.
He modernized payroll.
Hired an outside operations manager.
Sold unsafe equipment.
Gave employees paid sick leave.
Abraham was proud.
He rarely said it well.
Then Wyatt married Sabrina.
Sabrina had worked in private-equity investor relations before they met.
Beautiful.
Polished.
Excellent with people.
She understood balance sheets and capital structures.
Wyatt loved that.
Within two years she began attending Mercer board meetings.
Then negotiating with lenders.
Then criticizing employees Wyatt had known since childhood.
Abraham objected once.
Wyatt reacted immediately.
“You never wanted the company.”
“I don’t want to see it become something worse.”
“You mean something you don’t control.”
Abraham laughed.
“That’s rich.”
Wyatt did not speak to him for three months.
The final break came after Sabrina proposed refinancing two warehouses to finance an acquisition.
Abraham called the deal reckless.
Sabrina called Abraham “a retired schoolteacher playing businessman.”
Wyatt stayed silent.
Abraham left.
That was eleven months ago.
Now his son sat chained beneath the same house where Sabrina had hosted investment bankers and suppliers.
Abraham looked at Wyatt’s knee.
“What happened?”
Wyatt looked toward Sabrina.
She was arguing with one of the guests.
“Wyatt.”
“She pushed me down the basement stairs three days ago.”
Abraham felt the words physically.
“And the chain?”
Wyatt looked away.
“She said I wasn’t leaving until I signed.”
One of the guests whispered:
“Jesus Christ.”
Sabrina spun toward him.
“You don’t know what he’s done.”
Abraham crouched beside Wyatt.
“What do the papers transfer?”
Wyatt gave a humorless laugh.
“Everything she needs.”
“To do what?”
Wyatt looked toward the membership assignment.
May you like
Then at his father.
“Sell Mercer without me.”
