My Kind of Town
Rumpled silk skin
>>Honolulu Soap Co.
Sheets Ah Sun thumped Lily's 42-page proposal to reorganize the company with the back of his middle finger as he sat down in the wicker throne chair opposite her desk. "Very interesting, Lily. You gave this some thought.""Years of thought," she said.
"I'm impressed. You have some good ideas."
"Thank you." She had to stop herself from calling him Daddy. "I appreci ..."
"Good ideas, I mean, for another company."
Lily was totally numbstruck, too stunned to speak or move.
"Lily, you forgot one thing," he said, waving her proposal casually. "It's always been my plan to have Laird take over the company. That's why I sent him to Stanford for six years. I thought you understood that. He's going to take this company to the next level."
"That's what I did with Ola!" she protested. But she suddenly knew she would never win this argument.
"You have a passion for your particular business, Lily. You love your product, it's perfect for you. But Laird is trained in business, to run a company, to grow it, to lead. To see the Big Picture. That's what he's going to do. For all of us."
Now Lily slumped in her chair. She saw rumples in her white silk suit and did not care.
And she knew in her heart and kidneys and liver and spleen and places you don't want to talk about that she never had a chance. It wasn't fair! Just because she was never Laird, the eldest son. Daughters didn't have a chance, even eldest-child daughters. And so while her father said her proposal was good, he never actually considered it.
Lily was right about one thing. Sheets never seriously considered her proposal. But she was wrong about the reason why.
>>Eden Off Kuhio
Lance Ah Sun understood that his relationship with Greg depended entirely on whether he met Greg at the Capitol for the hate crimes bill rally. When Greg left for his chiropractic practice this morning, the last thing he said was "Well, I'll be there."If Lance didn't join Greg, he might as well start packing his things and move back home. The very thought made him shudder. No, he could never live with his father again.
And so he would join Greg and stand together with him, never mind the media, the Gabbardites, the possibility his mother might wander out of her Capitol office and see her son arm-in-arm with Greg.
But Lance's decision raised another crucial issue: What exactly does one wear to a political demonstration?
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com