Finding You by Daphne Elliot
7
DECLAN
“What are you doing here, Captain?”I had a busy day and the last thing I needed was my dad asking me thousands of questions and passive-aggressively questioning my leadership choices.
“Can’t a man come and check in on his business? I walked through this door every day for forty-six years, son. I can’t just stop.” He took off his coat and draped it over my chair. My dad was a big, burly man with a thunderous voice and a larger-than-life persona. He had worked on the water his entire life, since childhood, and I knew he was having trouble letting go.
“But you are supposed to be stopping, Dad. Remember? Scaling back, retirement, handing over the reins?” We had been having this same conversation for years. The man did not know how to be retired.
“I will get there, Dec, I will. But right now I wanted to come in, take a look at the numbers, and check in with Vince.”
“Callum reviews all the numbers and keeps on top of everything. Are you concerned he’s not qualified?”
“Of course not.” He would never speak ill of Callum or second-guess his business acumen. He saved that for me.
We walked through the processing area to where trucks were being loaded. Several guys stopped working to say hello to my dad, who, in typical fashion, had to check in with everyone.
I wasn’t the leader he was. I never would be. We were too different. I was good at what I did and I knew what I didn’t know. But Captain Quinn was a giant in this business.
He knew everything about everyone and went out of his way to help all the time, sometimes to the detriment of our business. When I took over there were tons of past-due invoices and old contracts that needed updating.
He was a great guy and a wonderful leader but not so much for details. Which is where I came in. When I joined the business after the navy, it became clear my father needed someone to keep track of the thousands of details that sprang up every year—applying for permits, attending industry groups to keep up with regulatory changes, upgrading our equipment, negotiating with suppliers and customers. An operation of this size was all about the details. And although my personality was not that great, I managed details precisely and efficiently.
Which is why it was still killing me that he wouldn’t retire and promote me to CEO. I realized it was a title. And I was currently acting as CEO and everything was fine. Why did I need this? Why did I put so much stock in something so silly? For all intents and purposes, I ran this business. I reported to no one and was responsible for its successes and failures.
But there was a part of me—a part I didn’t like to acknowledge—that needed his approval. That needed his faith in me. That needed him to acknowledge that, despite our differences, I would continue to build our family’s legacy into the next generation. That was something I craved. I couldn’t admit it out loud. I could barely formulate it in my own brain, but it was what I needed most.
I thought of Astrid. Her take-no-shit attitude and her intense focus. What would she do here? She didn’t seem like the type of person to let anything get in her way.
I decided to get direct. “Dad, I think it’s time to talk about a succession plan.”
He sat back in his chair. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s go to my office and chat.”
We sat on the large leather couch. The main office upstairs had a small balcony that looked out at the shipyard and the harbor. You could watch the fleet come in and out every day. I loved my office. I kept an eye on everything and still had peace and quiet.
“Got any scotch, Dec?” My dad had a few loves in this life—my mother, the ocean, and single malt scotch.
I shook my head at him. “No, Dad. Mom said no booze.”
He rolled his eyes. “Declan, son, I love her to pieces but your mother is killing me. Do you know she made me go vegan?”
I laughed. “Vegan? She mentioned she was making you eat plant based, but that seems pretty extreme.” I knew how painful this probably was for my dad, but he loved my mom so much he would eat cardboard if she made it for him.
“Now when I agreed to it I didn’t really know what that meant. But apparently it means no meat. And no cheese and no eggs. Nothing tasty, Declan. Just nuts and seeds. Nuts and fucking seeds.”
I tried to suppress a laugh. I can totally see my mother browbeating my dad into going vegan. “But Dad, the doctors say you are doing great.”
“I am doing great. But a man needs a finger or two of scotch once in a while.”
“Fine. Give me a minute.”
One of the benefits of being adjacent to the restaurant industry was the perks. I happened to have quite a nice bottle of scotch, not nearly as nice as the stuff Astrid brought me, but nice nonetheless, in my office.
Screw it. I guess I was drinking on a Tuesday afternoon. I handed him a glass and poured one for myself.
“Did I ever tell you the story about when I bought this land?” He was trying to stall. I had heard the story hundreds of times. My dad, fresh out of the navy, was working on his father’s fishing boat and trying to figure out how to impress my mother, who had turned down his proposal after a few dates.
Thirty minutes and two fingers of scotch later, the Captain had recounted the Quinn family’s long and storied history for the five millionth time. I could recite the entire tale from memory and was getting annoyed with his continuing attempts to stall what was a necessary conversation.
“Dad, I think we need to talk about retirement.”
My family had been here for four generations, and despite all the places I’d traveled in the navy, it was the only place that truly felt like home. My family had been fishing the waters of Havenport, Massachusetts since my great-great-grandparents immigrated to Massachusetts from Ireland during the potato famine. My father followed in the family footsteps. Over time the operation grew significantly to include a sizable fleet and several waterfront properties. My parents instilled the value of hard work and family and never, as far as I could remember, took a day off. My mom worked just as hard as my dad, raising us, pitching in with the businesses, sweet-talking the zoning board when necessary, and keeping everyone in line. I came back here because I wanted to contribute to the community which had meant so much to me and multiple generations of my family. But I wasn’t my father. I had to do things my own way.
“You have been incredibly successful, Dad. And I respect the hell out of what you have built. But we need to evolve. We need to adapt.”
“We have a good business here, Declan.” His tone was defensive.
“It’s not like it used to be. The ocean is not filled with fish. We have to pivot and focus on sustainability. Both for our business and for the oceans. I think we need to increase the variety of our catch and start chasing the sustainability market.”
“Not this again.” My dad had been very successful. But he failed to recognize that continued success meant evolving our business.
“Back in Grandpa’s day the fish jumped into the nets, but it’s different now. Climate change, overfishing, everything is evolving day by day. We can’t keep running this business like it’s 1985 anymore.” I wanted to preserve our family legacy, but preservation meant evolution. I decided to pull off the Band-Aid.
“Dad. We both know you need to fully retire. I know it’s difficult. You built so much and worked so hard. But it’s time to hand over the reins. I can do this. You know I can do this.”
“Declan, I feel conflicted about this.” He put his glass down on the table and looked at me. “I inherited this business from my father, who inherited it from his father. This is a family legacy, a family line.”
I wasn’t following. “And I’m your son.”
“Yes. And I am very proud of you. You are a great sailor and a decent businessman.” Coming from the Captain, that was extremely high praise. “But what happens after you? You’ve made it clear you have no interest in being a family man. You say you don’t want a wife and kids. So what happens to Quinn Fisheries then? The legacy built by four generations ends? Or God forbid you sell out to one of those big corporate outfits?”
Selling out was sacrilege in the Quinn household. Several fishing families from the area had done it over the years, and my parents swore up and down they would not destroy the family legacy like that. We would own this company forever, at least that’s what my dad wanted. He was being ridiculous.
“Dad, I hardly think whether or not I’m going to have kids has any bearing on whether I should become CEO. I am already COO right now, and I am running this place and have been for almost two years. You were supposed to transition into retirement a while ago and yet you keep hanging on.”
“I trust you, Declan. I do. I just struggle to think that there may not be a next generation to pass this business on to.”
I couldn’t believe him. It was bad enough that my mother was perpetually up my ass about dating. But getting some bullshit lineage guilt trip from my father? “I don’t see why having kids should have anything to do with it. You are deflecting. It’s time to take your hands off the wheel. It’s my turn to lead. You did things your way—aggressive expansion—but now it’s time to take a look, streamline the operation, and optimize. Things have changed and you need to understand that.”
He stood, drawing himself up to his full height. Even past sixty and recovering from a heart attack, he was still an imposing figure. “I understand. Just so much has happened recently. Just give me some time, okay? I have to adjust to this. Adjust my expectations.”
“Wait a second. Do you mean to tell me you were hoping Callum or Liam would show interest in the business? Would you really give it away, after I’ve worked here nearly ten years, to them just because they want kids? Newsflash. None of us have any kids. There are no guarantees in life. I am doing a damn good job and you know it. Don’t toy with me because I’m not the family man type.” Now I was pissed. I was always the third choice, never as good as golden boy Callum or pampered baby Liam. Despite growing up in the boat yard, neither of my brothers had ever displayed any interest in the family business. I had been preparing for this my entire life. Hell, I even did my time in the navy first.
“It’s not about offspring. It’s just about stability in the future. You’re just not the settling down type. I need a steady hand to guide this business.” I got up and paced around my office. Was he serious? I wanted to scream, to punch something. Did he really not trust me?
“Steady? How much steadier could I be, Dad? I have been by your side working for nearly a decade. I built a house in this town. I own a dog. I’m hardly a flake or a rolling stone.
He sat quietly, watching me pace. “That is not it, Declan. Not at all.”
I felt pissed. I felt betrayed. He knew how much this place meant to me. How could I prove to my father that I was good enough to take over the business? How could I show him I was responsible, steady, and that I wouldn’t destroy the family legacy?