Chapter 10: An Offer I Didn’t Expect

Jocelyn By the time I reached Dad’s office that afternoon, I’d imagined half a dozen reasons he wanted to talk about my future. A folder with my name on it hadn’t made the list. I stopped in the doorway and looked at it. “Should I be worried?” “That depends how much you dislike paperwork.” He got up to hug me, wearing a suit that actually looked pressed today. “Come in, honey.” His firm occupied two floors of a renovated building downtown. I’d visited plenty of times growing up, usually after school, but the place had changed. The reception area was brighter, the conference rooms larger, and the framed photographs along the hallway showed awards and projects I recognized from business news. Dad hadn’t spent the last eight years waiting for me to return. He’d built something impressive. “I saw your name on the development deal downtown last year,” I said as I sat. “The one everybody thought would collapse.” “Everybody except the people working on it.” He smiled and slid the folder toward me. “We’ve expanded our commercial practice since then. Property, business disputes, estate planning, a fair amount of corporate work. We represent clients across the state now.” “I can see that. You’re practically a skyscraper by local standards.” “Don’t start. Two floors don’t make me a real estate tycoon.” I opened the folder. Inside was a description of a senior attorney position, with responsibility for complex business matters and a clear path toward partnership. There were notes on mentoring younger associates and developing new clients, which told me Dad had thought beyond giving me a corner office. There were figures too, including compensation and a nonconfidential overview of the industries the firm’s clients worked in. It was detailed enough that he’d clearly spent time preparing it. I looked up. “Dad?” “I want you to come work here.” For a moment I couldn’t think of anything to say. He’d always encouraged my career in Chicago, sending congratulatory flowers when I won a difficult case and boasting about me to practically anyone willing to listen. I’d assumed that if I ever moved back, he’d be pleased for personal reasons. A serious professional offer hadn’t occurred to me. “You know I have a job,” I said. “A very good one. I know that.” “And you’re not exactly short of attorneys.” “No. But I am short of one with your particular experience.” He folded his hands on the desk. “You’ve been doing sophisticated work in a competitive market. You know how to manage demanding clients and hold your ground when the other side has more resources. Those skills translate here.” I glanced back at the position description. “You’re offering me senior counsel?” “To start. You’d handle your own matters, build relationships with clients, and work alongside the partners. I’d expect you to earn your place the same way anyone else would.” “Somebody would still say I got the job because I’m your daughter.” “Somebody probably will. You can’t control that.” He met my eyes. “You can control whether they have anything else to complain about.” I smiled despite myself. It sounded so much like the advice he’d given me after my first disastrous mock trial that I could almost see the younger version of myself sitting across from him. Then I reached the final page. “Succession planning?” I asked. Dad sat back. “I’m not going to practice forever, Jocelyn.” “Since when?” “Since my knees started objecting every time I took the stairs.” “That’s what the elevator is for.” He laughed, but his expression sobered. “I’ve been thinking about stepping back over the next several years. The partners know that. I want to make sure the firm stays in good hands, and I’d like those hands to be yours.” I read the words again. He wasn’t merely inviting me to take a position in the family business. He was proposing a gradual transition that could eventually make me the person responsible for it. “That’s a lot to put on someone you’ve barely seen this week.” “I’ve been following your career for eight years, honey. I didn’t stop being your father when you moved.” The familiar affection in his voice made my throat tighten. I looked down at the folder before he noticed. “Why didn’t you mention this before?” “I didn’t want it to sound like I was asking you to come home because I was lonely. And I certainly wasn’t going to spring it on you while you were planning Luke’s funeral.” He paused. “I had hoped we’d have this conversation under better circumstances.” I believed him. My mother’s death had taught him too much about what it meant to lose someone, and Luke’s had left him raw. But he hadn’t tried to turn his grief into an obligation for me. He’d given me the numbers and the responsibilities and trusted me to understand what he was offering. “What about the existing partners?” I asked. “They’ll want a say in who eventually leads the practice.” “They will. I can’t promise you their votes or hand you their trust. I can give you a genuine opportunity to earn both.” That mattered more than an easy promise would have. I knew what it was to work for something and have people assume a connection had done the work for me. I wouldn’t accept a title if it meant spending the rest of my career defending a favor. “I’m not asking for an answer today,” Dad continued. “Or next week. Your life is in Chicago, and I know what you’ve built there.” “It’s more than a job.” “I know. That’s why I want you to consider the work here, not just me.” I flipped back through the folder and studied the firm’s practice areas, anonymized client portfolio, and proposed responsibilities. The work was challenging. The salary was competitive. The long-term plan was ambitious enough to make me nervous, which was usually a good sign when it came to my career. I’d spent the last two days thinking of New Mexico as a place I might have to remain because Luke had died and Brian had questions to answer. I’d worried that staying meant putting the future I’d earned in Chicago on hold. But Dad wasn’t offering me a consolation prize. He was offering me the chance to build something of my own with a foundation he trusted me to protect. I closed the folder carefully. “I’d like some time to review everything. Properly.” “That’s my girl.” He didn’t ask whether I was staying. I didn’t promise that I would. But when I left his office with the folder under my arm, I finally understood something I’d been too distracted to consider. Coming home might be the best career move I ever made.