I looked toward our chief operating officer.
"What do you think?"
He considered the question.
Then answered carefully.
"Financially, it's a serious offer."
I nodded.
"Yes."
He continued.
"But I don't think you'd be happy with what they're asking you to surrender."
I smiled faintly.
"No."
He waited.
I looked toward the contract.
Then said, "We won't sell."
He nodded.
I paused.
"Tell our lawyers to respond professionally. We're willing to discuss settlement of the actual dispute, not transfer ownership of the label."
He smiled.
"Understood."
When he left, I sat alone for a while.
I thought about my father's words.
Don't sell tomorrow just because today is hard.
Seven years later, they still mattered.
The investor's daughter contacted me again.
This time, she requested an in-person meeting.
We met in a small private conference room at a law office, with appropriate boundaries concerning the active dispute.
She arrived wearing a navy dress and carrying a thin folder.
She looked nervous.
But determined.
For several minutes, we spoke about ordinary things.
The weather.
New York traffic.
Her work in arts education.
Then she looked directly at me.
"My mother offered to buy your company."
I nodded.
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"She thinks you're going to accept."
I smiled faintly.
"I'm not."
The daughter looked down.
For a moment, she seemed relieved.
Then she said, "She doesn't understand why."
I considered that.
"She may understand eventually."
The younger woman shook her head.
"I'm not sure."
She opened her folder.
Inside were notes from several board discussions at the investor's holding company that she was permitted to discuss in her capacity as a director of one affiliated entity.
She didn't provide confidential materials she lacked authority to share.
Instead, she explained concerns she had raised through the appropriate internal channels about governance and supplier oversight.
Her mother had dismissed those concerns as idealistic.
The daughter looked toward me.
"I joined the board because I thought I could influence the company from inside."
I listened.
She continued.
"But whenever I question something, my mother says I don't understand business."
I smiled sadly.
"That sounds familiar."
The daughter nodded.
She looked toward the window.
Then asked, "How do you get people to listen when they think money makes them right?"
I considered the question.
For a moment, I thought about the gala.
Then my father.
Then the lawyer who helped me negotiate my first licensing agreement.