Page 13 of The Stipulation
It occurs to me suddenly that the line of my father’s jaw is similar to mine. And I definitely have his eyes.
My chest aches suddenly. Not because I knew him. But because I didn’t. Because there are no photos of him holding me as a baby. No birthdays. No school plays. No graduations. An entire parallel life existed without me in it. And yet, biologically, I am a part of him.
I blink hard, surprised to feel tears gathering in my eyes. Why does this hurt? Joseph was a stranger to me. But he wasn’t just any stranger. He was a possibility. And now that possibility is sealed in a coffin at the front of the room.
Chapter
Seven
JO
Awoman stands up to speak, and the sound of her steps echoes loudly through the church, giving me a chance to clear my throat and blink away the tears. The vicar introduces her as one of the CEOs on his board and then stands aside for her.
The woman who rises to the podium is impeccably dressed in a charcoal-colored dress, her silver hair pulled into a disciplined knot at the nape of her neck. Her heels click sharply against the marble tiles behind the podium before she stills herself. She doesn’t look at the congregation at first. She looks at the coffin. Then she lifts her chin and turns to address her audience.
“My name is Eleanor Vance,” she begins, her voice clear and steady, trained for speaking in boardrooms during hostile takeovers. “I’ve had the privilege of serving as one of the chief executive officers of Manswell Technologies for twenty-three years. Serving the company… and surviving it.”
There’s a ripple of restrained laughter through the church, the kind shared by executives who have aged with the kind of pressures I know nothing about. Eleanor allows herself the smallest smile.
“Joseph did not believe in good enough. He didn’t tolerate it. He didn’t recognize it as a valid state of being.”
She glances towards the front pew, towards the family, and then quickly looks away.
“If you presented him with a five-year growth plan, he wanted a ten-year one. If you showed him projections that were aggressive, he asked why they weren’t impossible. I remember one night, it was 2.17am. I know because I had just convinced myself I could finally sleep when my phone rang.”
A few knowing murmurs roll around the cavernous space.
“I considered ignoring it. I truly did,” she says, and her lips curve faintly. “But when Joseph Manswell calls you, it doesn’t matter what time it is you answer the call.”
Soft, scattered laughter fills the space this time.
“He said, ‘Eleanor, I’ve been thinking.’ And when Joseph had been thinking, the rest of us were about to start working.”
More laughter sounds at that, warmer now, at a memory that many of his staff seem to share.
“He had identified a weakness in our European expansion strategy. A flaw no one else had seen. Not something flagged by analysts, but something he had felt.” She taps her temple lightly. “Completely based on intuition. He asked me three questions. Three. By the end of that call, our entire strategy had changed. And within eighteen months, that shift generated an additional four hundred million dollars in revenue.”
A murmur of appreciation runs through the congregation.
“That was Joseph. He saw around corners. He saw what the so-called experts hadn’t even realized was there.”
Her expression tightens into something sad, but not grief exactly. It’s something more complex than that.
“He demanded excellence. Relentlessly. If you came to him unprepared, he would dismantle your argument in under a minute. If you came to him complacent, he would make sure you never did it again.” She folds her hands together on the podium. “I have left meetings with Joseph feeling invincible. And I have left meetings with Joseph feeling about two inches tall. Sometimes in the same day.”
Another soft laugh sounds, and then a quiet honesty settles over the room.
“Joseph truly believed that pressure created diamonds. And he applied that pressure without apology. But here is what people outside of our world didn’t see.” She straightens slightly and looks around at everyone before going on. “When markets crashed, Joseph was the first one in the building and the last one to leave. When we had layoffs, and we did in the early days, he insisted on reviewing every severance package personally. Every single one. He once told me that if he was going to take someone’s livelihood away, he would at least know there was no other choice available.
“He funded scholarships for employees’ children without announcing it. He covered medical bills through anonymous donations. He did not do kind acts to be recognized publicly. He did not believe in sentimentality.” Her eyes lift now, scanning the congregation. “But he believed in responsibility. And he carried it like armor.”
She pauses for long enough before she speaks again.
“Joseph once said to me, after a particularly brutal quarter, ‘if I don’t demand more, we will all become ordinary. And ordinary is how companies die. Joseph was anything but ordinary. And he refused to let any of us be ordinary either.”
She rests her palm lightly against the edge of the podium.
“He built something that will outlive all of us. Not just in market value, patents, or headlines. But in culture. In discipline. In the expectation that we are capable of more than we think. I did not always like him. But I respected him. Completely.”
