topic.”
“Negotiations.”
He chuckled. “If you like. Negotiation is a way of life in business.”
And in marriage as well, apparently. She didn’t say it out loud, but the sentiment was there.
“What do you expect from marriage, Meilin? I’m sure my wants are clear, but I don’t know your thoughts.”
“Do my thoughts matter?” After brunch last Sunday, spent with both sets of parents making wedding plans, she’d gotten the impression her voice didn’t count for much. Both mothers had their expectations and what the bride and groom wanted mattered little. And now Shan had brought up the topic of leaving her design business behind.
“Of course they do. They always will. I can’t make you happy if I don’t know what makes you happy. I like to know my path. I study business details from the largest gain to the minutest detail. The pros, the cons. Who will benefit, who will be hurt, how to minimize the damage, because in every business deal there is a casualty of some kind. Maybe it is dead wood that needs to go, or it’s a single mother who desperately needs her job and benefits. An older manager taking care of his parents.”
As he spoke, he handled the car like an extension of his body. It seemed to respond to his thoughts, moving with the Saturday afternoon traffic heading east on the lower deck of the bridge.
Out on the sparkling water of the bay, boats with white sails flew across the light chop. Instead of going to a party, she almost wished they were out on the bay with the rest of the sailors. Not that she knew how to sail, but she could learn and would enjoy the breeze, the salt water, the freedom of flying across the water.
Shan didn’t seem to notice her mind had wandered as he continued talking. “How can I make the necessary changes without destroying their lives, the income they depend on? I can’t save every job, every person who desperately needs theirs, but sometimes I can put them in an equal, or better, position. In some cases there is no way to protect them, but I can make job placement or technical school available to send them down a new path. It’s not always a popular idea with my stockholders, but in the long run it buys us goodwill. That’s something no amount of money can ever guarantee.”
“But you want me to give up my business to be your wife.” The very thought was still difficult to take in. Wasn’t her mother just the other day saying she could keep her job? And he claimed to value employees. What about her employees? Did he truly consider her work insignificant? Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t gushed in pleasure over her work in his condo. Did he not recognize the work she’d put into blending his taste with convenience? What did he think she did with the design form she’d had him fill out?
His next question brought her back to the subject of being a wife. His wife. “Isn’t that what you were raised to do? Didn’t your mother give up her work to be a wife and mother? Mine did.”
Meilin laughed. It didn’t contain any mirth. “Yeah, because that is how all good Chinese girls are raised. To be wives and mothers. Not independent business women.”
“Not mutually exclusive. Many a good Chinese woman has raised children and run the family business, many hoping their own daughters would never have to do the same. My great-grandmother did it because she had no other choice. You have choices, Meilin. You don’t have to work yourself into an early grave like my great-grandmother did. She lived just long enough to see her daughter marry a successful businessman. If you want to work”—he shrugged as if it didn’t matter—“then keep your business. But our marriage will compete for your time. I have business functions my wife is expected to attend. And before the children come along, I’d very much like to travel. We can see China, Australia, Europe, and Scandinavia all in the next year. A prolonged honeymoon if you will.”
“All those
“Negotiations.”
He chuckled. “If you like. Negotiation is a way of life in business.”
And in marriage as well, apparently. She didn’t say it out loud, but the sentiment was there.
“What do you expect from marriage, Meilin? I’m sure my wants are clear, but I don’t know your thoughts.”
“Do my thoughts matter?” After brunch last Sunday, spent with both sets of parents making wedding plans, she’d gotten the impression her voice didn’t count for much. Both mothers had their expectations and what the bride and groom wanted mattered little. And now Shan had brought up the topic of leaving her design business behind.
“Of course they do. They always will. I can’t make you happy if I don’t know what makes you happy. I like to know my path. I study business details from the largest gain to the minutest detail. The pros, the cons. Who will benefit, who will be hurt, how to minimize the damage, because in every business deal there is a casualty of some kind. Maybe it is dead wood that needs to go, or it’s a single mother who desperately needs her job and benefits. An older manager taking care of his parents.”
As he spoke, he handled the car like an extension of his body. It seemed to respond to his thoughts, moving with the Saturday afternoon traffic heading east on the lower deck of the bridge.
Out on the sparkling water of the bay, boats with white sails flew across the light chop. Instead of going to a party, she almost wished they were out on the bay with the rest of the sailors. Not that she knew how to sail, but she could learn and would enjoy the breeze, the salt water, the freedom of flying across the water.
Shan didn’t seem to notice her mind had wandered as he continued talking. “How can I make the necessary changes without destroying their lives, the income they depend on? I can’t save every job, every person who desperately needs theirs, but sometimes I can put them in an equal, or better, position. In some cases there is no way to protect them, but I can make job placement or technical school available to send them down a new path. It’s not always a popular idea with my stockholders, but in the long run it buys us goodwill. That’s something no amount of money can ever guarantee.”
“But you want me to give up my business to be your wife.” The very thought was still difficult to take in. Wasn’t her mother just the other day saying she could keep her job? And he claimed to value employees. What about her employees? Did he truly consider her work insignificant? Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t gushed in pleasure over her work in his condo. Did he not recognize the work she’d put into blending his taste with convenience? What did he think she did with the design form she’d had him fill out?
His next question brought her back to the subject of being a wife. His wife. “Isn’t that what you were raised to do? Didn’t your mother give up her work to be a wife and mother? Mine did.”
Meilin laughed. It didn’t contain any mirth. “Yeah, because that is how all good Chinese girls are raised. To be wives and mothers. Not independent business women.”
“Not mutually exclusive. Many a good Chinese woman has raised children and run the family business, many hoping their own daughters would never have to do the same. My great-grandmother did it because she had no other choice. You have choices, Meilin. You don’t have to work yourself into an early grave like my great-grandmother did. She lived just long enough to see her daughter marry a successful businessman. If you want to work”—he shrugged as if it didn’t matter—“then keep your business. But our marriage will compete for your time. I have business functions my wife is expected to attend. And before the children come along, I’d very much like to travel. We can see China, Australia, Europe, and Scandinavia all in the next year. A prolonged honeymoon if you will.”
“All those
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