Chapter 36: Homeward Bound

Before I could abscond to spend two indubitably entertaining weeks with Sofia’s sister, there was however a trip to the states to go through with, my first since coming to Germany. Apparently my grand master plan had leaked somewhere, because Lydia’s sister Bea came into my office and asked if I had a minute for her, which I did confirm of course.

“Ian, are you really planning to sell your late father’s company to Bond Consulting of all people?” she asked me with a concerned look. “You would be selling his life’s work to his biggest rival.”

“It’s because you worked there before I hired you here, isn’t it?” I answered her question with one of my own. She nodded.

“Your father did the job interview with me himself. Did you know he spoke German?”

I smiled. “With an atrocious accent, yes,” I said. “But who am I to talk. I haven’t gotten rid of my accent either. He was in Germany a lot, because that gave him an excuse to fly his plane instead of wasting away in endless manager meetings.”

“But why are you selling? And to Bond of all people?” Bea insisted. I smiled at her again, and took her hand.

“Bea, I’m only doing what dad and I had agreed on before he died. I had promised him to join the board of directors as soon as I was eighteen, but dad wasn’t naive. He knew his frequent flying involved the risk of having an accident. As we know now, he was sadly right about that.”

She nodded, patiently waiting for me to continue.

“About two years before his death we had a talk. He knew my ambition was to have an airline one day, so we agreed that I take over his company should he die, but if I ever wanted to seek a different challenge, he wanted me to sell the company to Jeff. He knew I couldn’t invest the time and effort into his company if I had my own pursuits.”

“He specifically wanted you to sell to Bond Consulting, their biggest rival?” Bea asked, and I could see she wasn’t the least bit convinced that I was telling the truth.

“If anything, I’m already a year late,” I explained. “This might look to you like selling Pepsi to Coca Cola, but that was just a carefully curated front for the public. Dad and Jeff weren’t bestest buddies, but they were good friends. They had a lot in common, both being the sons of immigrants.”

Bea narrowed her eyes as an idea formed inside her head.

“They did that for free PR didn’t they?”

I nodded and chuckled. “Yeah. The media ate it up with a spoon. Stories about two big companies having a beef sold papers by the bucket load, and they got a lot of free PR out of it. While the media hacks were speculating if the two of them would sue each other’s arses off, the two of them met for a beer in the evening and had a jolly good laugh about it.”

“That sounds like you know that man personally,” Bea speculated.

“Sure do,” I said. “Dad dropped me off at his place often enough when he fancied himself a flight to Germany. You must know his son.”

“I?” Bea asked with an astonished look at me.

“Matt Bond, does that ring a bell?” I asked back with a grin.

Bea thought for a while and then she gasped. “You mean that boy Jenny never shuts up about?”

“Exactly,” I confirmed and nodded. “Matt is Jeff’s son. I have seen him last when he was still eleven, but let me tell you one thing. She better chain herself to him, because every girl in town will try to chat him up when he comes to Germany next year.”

“Cute one?” she asked.

“I’m a bloke. I don’t even know what cute means,” I said with a chuckle. “But, unless he got himself some scars, that boy must look quite handsome by now. I guess he must come after his mother.”

“You guess?” Bea asked me with a surprised look.

“I don’t really remember his mother,” I said. “She died when Matt was less than a year old. I was only six back then myself. I haven’t seen her more than once or twice in my life. I know for a fact that he looks nothing like his dad. Jeff looks like a Scottish fisherman, all chiselled features and square chin.”

“Poor boy, losing his mother that early.”

“As far as I can tell, Jeff did a good job being father and mother in one person,” I said. “Matt is nearly the age at which I started flying gliders, and I can tell you, I was not nearly as level-headed as he is at thirteen.”