Convertibles

A simple walk provided maximum clarity to Hurley Knotting. Standing at six foot six with a brown complexion, he rounded his Wilmington, Delaware neighborhood. Asked if he ever played ball, he left that up to his daughter who would be graduating next year from college. She played ball. Well. It’s what landed her a scholarship. But she wanted nothing from the league. Beatrice Paige Knotting wished to help out her dad’s business. He became overwhelmed with joy when he discovered this.

His wireless ear buds pumped freestyle music into his ears. He was forty-seven with locks. Beatrice had been a few inches shorter than her father and possessed gray eyes and fair features from her alabaster-colored mother. She had divorced Knotting around the time of Beatrice’s birth and lived in Tanzania. By never getting to meet her, she yearned to cling closer to Knotting.

As the chief executive officer of Facelift Construction, he poured hours into his business. When he had showered and changed, he went straight to the phone. The first person he called back possessed gray eyes.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Sweet B.”

“I’m going to be coming over to talk about plans further. One phone call won’t do my ideas justice.”

“I anticipate it.”

They ended the call together. Then, the fun started. Making contracts, dealing with zoning committees, wrestling with deadlines and budgets all enticed and enlivened Knotting. He wanted all of this and more. This new kind of business had just started within the last two decades. His task and Beatrice’s when she would be made chief operating officer would be to live up to the name on the trucks and vans that whizzed about the state.

The business required them to completely transform structures. When they had finished, they would be called convertibles. Knotting looked at his watch and clicked his pen. A piece of stationary became his friend. Of course he had his smartphone but he loved to always do things by long hand first and then transpose the data onto the device.

Inundated with correspondence related to the final spot for the transformation, Knotting almost swore. He kept his composure, however, and got moving onto the project. The client wanted a large bronze statue of their beloved mastiff in the center of this humongous hall. The cremains would remain below a plaque dedicated to Rowser’s memory. A chuckle burbled out of his throat. This is my last job? Beatrice is going to flip when she sees this, he thought to himself.

Beatrice entered the gated community and used the automatic garage door to enter the house. The palatial estate sat on six acres. With six bedrooms and four baths, and a theater, Knotting had aced the test of furnishing a living space. They found their way to his home office. It looked austere and welcoming at the same time. Brushed steel and walnut adorned the space. Pictures of Beatrice shooting a three-pointer became a central piece to the place.

“We’ve got work to do, father,” she called when he opened the elevator door and stepped out into the foyer.

“Hello to you too, B,” he answered.

“Pardon me. How was your day?”

“Now, you know I don’t like small talk. What did you want to show me?”

She swung around and unshouldered her workbag.

“Since this is the last convertible, we ought to make it special for the––”

“Samuelsons. You’ve gotta see what they want in their main entrance.”

He showed her the plans. She frowned.

“It’s a little gauche, no?” she replied.

“I knew you'd be jolted by the idea. But if they want it….”

“You’ve had clients like this before. You told them to their faces that they couldn’t get what they wanted. Why should you stop now?”

“It’s the last one in the entire country. The entire world is going to go gaga over it. We might as well meet with the demand.”

“I don’t think so. We should be able to re-build the structure on what we have planned. This is going to be the monumental moment for Facelift, Dad.”

Beatrice walked around his desk. She took out her tablet and stylus and started to make designs of what should be the convertible.

“Now here is what the entrance, the exits, the entire floor plan has to look like.” Knotting always looked at Beatrice as being steadfast in her vision. Like a captain of a sea vessel, she could navigate the torrents with ease and aplomb. He reviewed the digital display before him. He liked it, but he knew his clients would differ on the scheme.

“I would do this without hesitation. I’m just considering the figures.”

“The figures? We’re talking about one of the more modest of the convertibles here. It just happens to be the last one,” Beatrice shot back.

“I know what you’re saying…but….”

“‘But’ we’re going for it. If I have to dip into my savings….”

“No, no, no, don’t go there. We have the means. Some quiet persuasion may be in order for this particular project.”

“I mean…we could just have them see things our way. This is the way it must be done for our sake. They will just have to live with it. And they can construct the shrine to their beloved Rowser in a pet cemetery.”

Knotting exhaled. “I just want this to go smoothly.”

“I’ve known you to be staunch to your ideals. Why are you leaning towards the customer? Why are you not standing on your own system?”

Knotting breathed again. “I’ve been in this industry for twenty-three years. I’m my own boss. Look around you, this isn’t what normal gets you. It a;so isn’t what you get when you don’t meet the demands of your clients.”

Beatrice put her hands up to her head and frowned.

“Don’t give me that, you’ve been making that face since you could walk.”

“I’m not pouting, I’m petitioning. We have to have this project as a shining example of what a father and daughter can do. When I become COO of this company, it will be like stepping into a role that will challenge me and keep me whole.” Her face looked austere as she intoned these words. It could cut diamonds. Her gaze looked so sharp.

“All I’m asking is that we just see what the Samuelsons are half way….”

“What? Have you ever in your life split a project down the middle?”

“No.”

“I know why you want to start now. You’re afraid that the attention of the world will descend on you and no matter how pristine and beautiful you might make this place, you’re going to not get any business if you don’t follow the plans of your client. I get it. It’s wrong, but I get it.”

“This is as you’ve noted ‘monumental.’ Every news agency, documentarian, online troll is going to be there to witness the last of the convertibles. That’s going to be a gigantic step for the company. We must remain loyal to our own company.”

“Loyalty and self-respect don’t have to clash. We can retain our own idealism while also displaying the ending of an extremely long line of structures that have given so many people solace, comfort, refuge, and grace.”

“You didn’t just convert yourself there did you?” Beatrice asked with a wry grin.

“I most certainly did not. But I’m like a funeral director. I go by the wishes of the people I’m dealing with. Whatever they want on this one, it’s going to happen.”

Beatrice paced the floor and shook her head. A right hand raised to her chin.

“I’m just thinking…we just deliver on our plan and allow them to respond to it. If they don’t like it, there’s plenty of other construction businesses that would die to have a spot among the others to erect such a structure.”

Kotting’s phone rang. Beatrice motioned for him to pick up the phone.

“Mr. Samuelson.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Yes, my daughter and I were just discussing it.” Beatrice made the international hand signal of her exploding.

“Yes. Yes. I know that’s the same conclusion we’ve come to as well.” She looked up and displayed a face that could have been made into a question mark.

“We’ll get right to it. Alright. Take care.”

“What’d he say?” she folded her arms.

“He wants to give us a bonus upon completion of the project.”

Beatrice felt flummoxed. “Dad…you didn’t sign any forms yet did you?”

That’s also what he talked about. He wants us to begin drawing up plans tomorrow.”

“I’ve got to do what’s right for the customer.”

“No, you don’t.”

“There’s a trust involved that I’ve tried to instill in you for all of this time.”

“It’s understood, but Dad, we’ve got to realize that there’s going to be a time where you’re going to have to see….”

“See what, Daddy? That you’re not even fifty and you’re stressing yourself out about all of this?”

“I’m not stressed. I’m concerned. I’m concerned that there will be another company that will swoop in and take what is rightfully mine. I’ve earned this. I didn’t just come here and say, ‘This is mine, gimme, gimme.’ No. Your grandfather knew it, too. He put it in my head to be the same way. He was just a builder of the best fireplaces ever. I studied that man. My father gave me the guidance I thought I gave to you.”

“I have it. It just isn’t what you’d expect. We could scale this business. We could be the largest self proprietorship in the state. I’m talking billions of dollars. We’ve made our millions and that’s great. But I’m talking about joining the three comma club.”

“Yes, I’d like that too. But even with this relatively modest arrangement, I still have to yield to the dictates of the client. It’s only right that I allow them to do this. The job is too big to fail.”

“Never in your life have you cracked your back to bend over for a client. Never once have I seen you excuse your own thoughts to just be railroaded by some customer. You’re going to call him back, Dad.” She picked up the phone. He looked at her with the concern of a counselor. Like she was some unruly teenager and that he had to tame her recklessness. That’s what it felt like to him, anyway. Except, she gathered herself and remained poised. His entire being remained taut and he felt sweat beads bunch at the top of his forehead. He reached out a hand and took the phone gently. He dialed.

“Mr. Samuelson, there’s been a change in plans. We’re going to meet on Friday instead of tomorrow and I’m going to show you what I have created for this special occasion. Okay. Okay. Alright. Goodbye.”

Knotting held the phone and placed it on his desk.

“He’s dropping us.”

“Exactly!”

“What?”

“That’s what I was trying to get you to do anyway. We don’t need them. So we miss out on the last one. How many have you converted over your career this last decade?”

“Beatrice, that was a hundred million dollar job, plus a bonus….”

“I get that, but think of it…you’ll be doing half a billion dollar jobs in the future.”

“Beatrice, I think you should go.”

“Why? I helped you. This was going to be a disaster. The next project with me working day-to-day, we’re going to surpass the mark of distinction. All of this will be a blur. A spot of haziness to be forgotten about over the next few years. You’ll see, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Knotting announced and walked around and sat at his desk. Beatrice collected her things and headed out to her car. Knotting tapped his tablet screen and looked at the close to two million churches, synagogues, and mosques that had been converted to banks, personal homes, and skyscrapers. He took one look at his plans and erased them all from the digital atmosphere.e