Mickey - 33. Chapter 33

“This Nursery is looking pretty crowded right now,” Drew observed, his hand on the post of their new son’s bed in his first week at home. It was Wednesday, trash pickup day, and they both waited anxiously to see if the roar and belch and clang of the garbage truck would wake any of the kids.

They weren’t sure how just one nursery would work out, especially with the all the kids getting on different sleep schedules. A newborn is different than one-year-olds, but the guys did like the convenience of being able to coral them all in one place. As a Plan B, they prepared to add a glass door to the bedroom across the hall in case there was a schedule dispute amongst them. If the new one ended up there, at least he’d be far away from the street noise, they thought.

Whether it was a boy or a girl, they had decided to name the baby after their moms. In this case it wasn’t too difficult, considering that Drew’s mom was named Kelly, which could be a boy or girl, and Mickey’s mom is Clare, which they could convert to Christopher.

With the newest addition to the family being a boy, it was Kelly Christopher, which they were already shortening to KC. Additionally, this also sounded like Drew’s sister, Casey, so it was ‘kind of a Trifecta,’ Mickey pointed out.

That fact the Mickey was back home in Lakewood on a Wednesday when everyone else on the business team was in New York wasn’t part of the original Patterson recovery plan. Even though it was a critical time for the business, with lawsuits piling up and angry shareholder’s emails pounding on the virtual doors of their companies, Maryam and Bik prevailed upon Mickey to take a week of paternity leave to bring his son home.

“We can handle it,” Maryam said. “As Brad and your father-in law have said, these disputes will be going on for years so they will all be here when you come back,” she chuckled, the smile on her face clear in her Zoom window, “but you only have one chance to have the first week with your new son.”

“Every night at 5, we’ll talk, “Bik added from the other end of the screen. “And Laura will check and make sure that you’re not working,” he added.

“I forgot that there is 24-hour surveillance,” he responded. “And with Chessie as a mole who goes in and out of our house with impunity through the doggie door, I guess that there’s no escape,” he added to laughs on both sides of the screen.

Every day was going to be a tough battle, and he didn’t want his team to feel abandoned, to be missing in action when important decisions needed to be made. But he was also having to learn that it was a team effort and they had to rely on each other to get the job done.

In the next few years, that proved to be truer than Mickey had ever thought. As they all added to their families and with Parker even getting married, the core team of Mickey, Bik, Robert, Marty, Maryam and Parker all came to each other’s aid when family issues conflicted with the seemingly endless stream of meetings, reports, depositions and court dates. It was the kind of support that was a big part of what made them such a formidable team.

                                 ***

The headline in the Wall Street Journal said it all:

‘After a Long Battle, Patterson Family Wins Back (Most) of its Empire’

It had taken four years of court battles and boardroom fights, including newspaper op-eds, spectator websites and regulatory agency clashes, but Mickey and his team succeeded in holding onto far more of the Patterson fortune than Drew’s dad or anyone else had ever thought possible.

There were casualties along the way, including the well-publicized closure of an auto parts distributor by the vindictive brothers that cost 2,000 jobs, along with the surrender of an insurance company and mining rights over a large amount of land in Colorado. But what they had salvaged was extraordinary, especially when pundits predicted that they could lose it all to the nefarious brothers. It was already touted as the next classic business school case study.

Even their mother, with all her own formidable resources, couldn’t save her boys. While she was no pushover, Mr. Patterson could help taking satisfaction with how Mickey continually had her on her back foot. He often had made intimations (at Parker’s suggestion) that they’d go after her personal assets, too.

In fact, there were times that Mickey was so fierce that Mr. Patterson chuckled to himself, hoping that he would never have to tangle with his son-in-law.

In the intervening time, the guys lifestyle had hardly changed, except for raising three kids - El, Carl and KC - with a fourth, courtesy of Casey’s eggs, on the way. Mickey had never put much thought into their own financial situation, he was so busy dealing with all the Patterson business disputes and raising his family. A maintenance stipend from the firm was not a lot but enough to get by.

So, it was a shock to him one day when he woke up and realized that he and Drew were worth a huge amount of money.

“Wow.” Mickey said, sitting on the edge of the bed looking out the window toward a tree swaying in a late autumn breeze. He thought that Drew was in El’s room, getting her ready for kindergarten and he was about to get up and help with Carl. But he had to sit down for a moment. Something suddenly felt very heavy.

Drew opened the door and El and Carl rushed into the room.

“Pop!” they both called out as they ran around the bed to him.

“Hey!” Mickey responded as he looked down at them, their beaming faces returning the gaze.

“Don’t you two have to get ready for school?” he asked.

They looked at each other, and then back at their dad who still stood in the doorway. “Yes, they do,” he responded.”

“Then OK, let’s go!” he ordered as hugged them both, then gently pushed his kids toward the door where Drew bent down and spoke to them.

“Go get your jackets and put on your shoes, OK? And then we’ll go down and pick up your lunches, all right?

The kids both enthusiastically shook their heads then raced back to their rooms.

After watching to make sure they didn’t divert to the bathroom or their brother’s or sister’s room, Drew walked over and sat on the bed, next to Mickey.

“Are you OK?” he asked. For some reason, you look a little…off… or something.”

“I’m fine,” Mickey replied,” putting his hand on his partner’s leg and gently stroked it. “It’s just that….”

“Just what?”

Mickey sighed. “Yesterday, we finished off some of the final accounting from all this stuff. Marty really dove into it and laid out the final tabulation of our net assets and ….”

“…And we’re worth a lot of money, right?” Drew asked.

Mickey swallowed. “Yeah. A lot. A shitload. Gosh… I never in my wildest dreams did I think that something like this could happen. I just wanted enough to be secure and take care of mom, help Nate and Midori if they ever needed it. The Hawaii trips to see them and the kids, and bring them here in the summer, has been our only real indulgence, and that always seemed like a stretch, kind of like the mortgage. But this…. it’s unreal. I hardly know what we can do with it.”

“Well, if we can’t think of something, I’m sure that there are lots of people willing to help,” Drew replied with a cynical chuckle. “But seriously, there are lots of things that we’d like to contribute to, now that we have the means…” he was about to the continue when the kids raced back into the room.

“We’re ready!” cried El as her quieter brother stood next to her, both beaming.

“OK. Let’s go get KC from his room and then go down and get your food, OK? he asked his small audience of two, who again shook their heads rapidly up and down.

“Can I have a kiss first? Mickey asked, as he bent over.

Without hesitation, they both jumped over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. That gesture, especially on the wounded side of his face, always felt so good to him. It was one of the things that Mickey looked forward to each day as he returned the favor, smooching each of them with wet kisses on their giggling faces before he sent them on their way. Besides the feel and smell of Drew, it was the other thing that he sorely missed on their zoom calls when he was away.

                                 ***

After the kids had gotten off to school and they let KC out to play in the backyard with Charlie, they went into the kitchen as Drew started to take some meat out of the freezer for dinner.

“You know,” Mickey started, not sure of even where to begin, “I would really like to do something for Middlefield. I’ve always sent them a token amount every year, I needed to at least do something. But now, jeeze, I could really repay them everything and more. I’ve always wanted to do that. Maybe we can now?” he asked, wanting to make sure that he had Drew’s assent.

“Sure, of course that’s something we should do. But let’s first talk to my dad about this. He has a lot of experience in these matters as he’s been on all sorts of non-profit boards. He could really help to understand how to go about donating money.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Mickey replied. “I’m not sure that we even know where to begin with this much dough.”

“The first thing he’ll probably say is that we should start with a long-term plan,” Drew said as he unwrapped the meat. “About how much we want to give to charity, and how much we keep for the family. Kind of an end-game strategy for how to dispose of this, which I have a feeling we both want to do.”

“Yeah,” Mickey answered as he brought a cutting board across for where Drew was setting the frozen ribs. “I think that we set up the family for security, including Nate and Midori and Casey and her family. But this money shouldn’t be something we look at every day and enjoy counting to see how much we have. It should do some good for others.”

                                 ***

That night, after their evening ritual of reading to the kids in bed and then giving each one a kiss and hug before pulling up their blankets, they Zoom called Mr. Patterson. After the past few years of the mostly victorious struggle to get back his business, he was happy to retire back to New York, but still counseled Mickey and the team regularly on operating the companies.

After the guys had explained the situation, or, more accurately, their anxiety about what to do with a lot of money, he asked them some questions.

“The most important thing is, well, what is important to you,” he asked, “besides your family, of course.”

“I want to leave myself open to possibilities, but probably the one that sticks out to me the most would be Middlefield,” he answered. “College and law school, too, of course. But Middlefield was the beginning of just about every good thing that’s happened to me.”

“Me, too,” Drew added, winking at Mickey.

“I don’t at all doubt the truth of that, Mickey, and I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention what you’ve done for me,” he answered, his eyes directed at this son-in law. “As you look around, other needs and interests will occur, I can guarantee it, he continued, “but it’s clear that your school holds a special place in your life.”

“You’re now at a level that’s beyond just sending money to the Annual Fund though, Mickey. You and Drew have resources that take you to the next level, where you can contribute even more and actually give shape to things that are important to you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mickey asked.

“Don’t be surprised to be asked to be a trustee, to be on the board. Not only of Middlefield, but of other organizations. You’re now the type of person that these schools depend on for their very survival. People of your means are the ones who can make or break an institution. Not only with money, of course, but with leadership and ideas. And places like Middlefield need people like you, who care about the place and have the means to support it and the intelligence to guide it.”

“Me? Or either of us? I mean, gosh, we’re not even close to thirty yet. I’m not sure what you do as a trustee.”

Chuckling, Mr. Patterson responded, “Mickey, you’ve already accomplished more than most businesspeople who’ve had 40-year careers. You’ve been through mergers, buyouts, boardroom rebellions, bankruptcies, and even start-ups in only a few years. Believe me, you’d fit in well and are just the kind of person that they need. It’s just if you’d want to do it, as it’s a major commitment to be a good board member because it takes time and energy.”

“And at non-profits, of course, there is no pay except for perhaps your expenses. And even there, you’re pretty much expected to take care of those yourself.”

“I wouldn’t care about any payback. But if they ever asked me then I would jump in with both feet. I guess that I’ve learned a lot that I can share when you put it that way. And I’d love to be part of the place again and help where I can. I owe Middlefield a lot.”

Mickey paused for a moment, then asked, “So how do we start the giving part?”

“These days, you can take a look at the website,” Mr. Patterson answered. “They always have a section on development. See what the needs look like and if those things are important to you. I don’t doubt that you’ll find a lot there.”

                                 ***

Pulling up the Middlefield website, he went through the school’s funding priorities, which was really a wish-list of items needing sponsors which ran the gamut from teacher enrichment classes to capital projects like a new science building. They all seemed more than worthy to him, but he was immediately drawn to the section on endowed scholarships and how the demand far outstripped the resources. There were lots of kids out there who had the talent to be admitted but there weren’t enough scholarship resources to support them.

Scanning down the list of endowed scholarships, he recognized the one that he had been awarded. It was the most well-funded one, donated by an alumnus who himself had been on a full scholarship. The sole criteria was for ‘for a promising youth who could not otherwise take advantage of a Middlefield education.’

There were lots of needs at Middlefield. But he knew where he was going to start.

The next day he emailed the headmaster, who Mickey knew well from his tenure as a faculty parent associated with Mickey’s dormitory. As he struggled in his first semester away from home during his lower mid ( freshman} year, Mr. Cortes was one of the many people who were always there to help and encourage him.

The email didn’t say what Mickey wanted to talk about except to say that he wanted to reconnect and learn more about what was going on at the school and how he might ‘help.’ A few minutes later he got back an enthusiastic response from Mr. Cortes, who instead of a long email text, suggested a few time slots that he was available to talk. He and Mickey quickly settled on a day and time.

                                 ***

“Mickey! It’s good to hear from you! You were not only a memorable student, but you’re obviously making a name for yourself in the big wide world out there. Lots of us have been following your exploits and we couldn’t be prouder of you,” he said in greeting his former pupil.

“Oh, that wasn’t all me. It wasn’t even half me. I had a super team that did it all. I was just the one who scheduled the meetings.”

Mr. Cortes laughed. “Well, you must have a gift for scheduling, because you all seemed to have come off pretty well, at least from what I read in the newspapers,” he responded. “But tell me about yourself and how you’ve really been doing.”

They reminisced for a few minutes, mostly about their families. Mickey got to know both him and his family pretty well through dorm life, Including his wife and three little kids and their dog. Mickey even babysat them a few times. He loved hearing about how the kids had grown and were now ‘Middlefield age’ themselves.

Mr. Cortes, of course, didn’t know his former student’s family, so Mickey had a lot to catch him up on. He could have talked about Drew and the kids for hours, but he knew he needed to move onto the task at hand.

“The reason I’m calling is that I, well, I think that I’m at a point where I can do something for the school, both in terms of money, and even my time, if there is anything that I can offer there. I know that it’s really tough these days for schools like Middlefield, and especially for the parents. There are needs for all sorts of things, but Drew and I are thinking that there might be a really critical need for financial aid.”

Without hesitation, Mr. Cortes jumped in. “That’s absolutely true, Mickey. There are some capital projects that eventually need to be done, but our single most important need right now is financial aid. A lot of families are struggling these days, and a school like ours is getting more and more difficult for families.”

“This is the hardest part of the job, and I’m not afraid to admit it,” he continued. “Right now, we’re in the middle of evaluating admissions for next year. Gosh, we have some really great candidates. But I can tell you now, even without knowing their financial aid circumstances, which we evaluate separately, we’ll lose some fantastic kids who could really contribute to the school.”

“There was one girl last year - she reminded me of you, Mickey - she came to us with no connection at all to the school. Her mom happens to clean the house of one of our grads and the alumna was impressed with her. But we just couldn’t put a financial aid package together that would allow her to attend. That one hurt.”

“We have a couple kids like that each year. Middlefield is not the most well-endowed school in our peer group, so our financial aid is like a patched-up old jalopy each year. If I could run the campus on kids doing every service job, I would do it if it would give a few more kids an opportunity to attend Middlefield. But we just can’t do that,” he said and then went on to describe some of the other kids whose families couldn’t make the numbers work either.

Mickey paused before responding, wanting to make sure Mr. Cortes had finished what he wanted to say and he had a complete picture of need and urgency.

“Thanks for letting me know that, sir. I kind of thought that was the situation, although talking about the individual kids helps me to understand it even better. So, what does it take to support someone like me, who needs everything?

“You really want to know, Mickey? It’s a lot. You, and others, have been worth every penny, but I don’t put a price tag on people like you.”

There was no doubt that Mr. Cortes was the man he remembered. Totally selfless and intensely concerned with the students. Money was just a means to an end for him. But, as Mickey had learned in the last few years, it was an important means and you had to have money to make things happen.

“Yes, please tell me. I know it takes resources to get the job done and I want to do for Middlefield what it did for me.”

He heard a sigh on the phone. “Mickey, it will take about 1.6 million dollars of endowment to support one full-ride student here at Middlefield next year. Your funder, the McLaren Family Scholarship, has about that much in it. It costs a ton of money to completely support one student. But maybe…”

“Yes?” Mickey asked.

“Well, I don’t want to presume anything. If you even just came to the school to give a talk, it would be enough. But maybe if you could provide some seed money, maybe…um…maybe twenty thousand dollars, I could solicit money from board members and others and we could maybe raise a half million, which would get us sort of maybe half-way to another scholarship. And we even give naming rights if the donor gives enough and wants that.”

“But Mickey, again, if I’m presuming here, please let me know. This is the part of my job that I enjoy the least, asking for money. But it’s for the kids, so in that sense I don’t hesitate, and I’ll do what I gotta do,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“I totally understand, sir, and I know how good you are at those other parts of your job,” Mickey replied.

“Drew and I and Drew’s dad discussed this and where we might start in terms of support for Middlefield. Like I said earlier, I know that there are a lot of needs, and we’ll continue to look at those, too.”

“But starting with financial aid, what Drew and I would like to do is give twenty million dollars for the McLaren Scholarship. If my math is right, that should completely support about a dozen full-ride kids each year, about 3 kids per class. The school could divide it any way that you want, of course. You’re the experts. But that should be at least a little bit of help.”

Mickey heard a crash on the other end, like the phone dropped.

“Mr. Cortes are you still there?” he asked.

There was shuffling and scratching noise on the other end before he heard a response. “Mickey, yes, sorry I was just a bit…wow…are you sure? he asked, with another nervous laugh.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Mickey responded with a slight laugh himself, trying to put Mr. Cores at ease. “We’ve got tons of money in the bank that is doing no good at all, and I know that Middlefield will definitely do some good with it. But I need to tell you that there are a few conditions.”

“Go ahead,” he responded. “I’m listening. I understand that donors want to have certain things.”

“I think most donors do, sir. I agree, but my conditions are probably simpler. One is that this money is identified with the McLaren scholarship fund, which I’ve already mentioned. I know that Mr. McLaren was a self-made guy and gave everything he had to the school when he died. He felt like he owed it all to Middlefield and...so do I,” he answered, his own voice starting to shake. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“And no publicity or fanfare, except what you all need to do to make sure that kids and their parents are aware of the increased financial aid possibilities at Middlefield. You can say it’s given anonymously by a grateful alumnus who is glad to honor a great friend of the school.

“Directing the funds to the McLaren Scholarship is not a problem at all, Mickey, and it doesn’t surprise me that you would do that and do it anonymously,” Mr. Cortes responded. “Not to besmirch any of our donors, but we often spend a bit more time than is necessary on plaque design and placement, not to mention press releases and publicity. But I’m glad that they make the donation, for whatever reasons.”

He also warned Mickey: “It’s difficult to keep these things quiet, you know, especially big amounts like this. We run a tight ship here and I’ll try to keep it within the board, but this kind of news can leak out pretty quickly.”

“No worries. I assume that the news will get out sometime, I’ve kind of gotten used to that,” Mickey added, with a slight chuckle. “But for now, we want to keep the focus on the kids and the financial aid possibilities and honor Mr. McLaren. In that sense, of course, I do want people to know.”

“OK, just so you realize that, Mickey. I just want to keep donors prepared for all possibilities,” he responded, then asked. “So, what is the other condition?”

“The other condition is that you spend the time that you would normally spend schmoozing me and other donors and instead use it in talking to students. You did me so much good when I was there. There is no way that I would have survived without you. And I’d like for you to do that for some other kid and not have to waste time stroking people like me.”

There was again no response at first, but the phone didn’t drop. Mickey just heard what sounded like a little bit of sniffling on the other end of the phone.

“Are you OK?” Mickey asked.

“Oh gosh,” Mr. Cortes answered, his voice shaking, clearly choked up. “I can’t wait.”