Chapter 2 - Spencer Was Charming Before He Became Necessary
I met Spencer Hale at a charity regatta in Newport Beach.
He was twenty-nine.
I was twenty-five.
He had:
tattoos,
a ridiculous smile,
a small marine-development consulting company,
and exactly the kind of confidence my father distrusted.
That last part attracted me.
Victor Ainsley had spent my childhood preparing me for:
responsibility.
My sister Peyton called it:
executive preschool.
Dad founded Ainsley Coastal Holdings when he was thirty-two.
The company began with:
one marina,
a fuel dock,
a yacht-service operation.
Over thirty years it expanded into:
marinas,
commercial waterfront property,
charter management,
marine hospitality.
Valuable.
Privately held.
Complicated.
Dad never told us:
“You’re rich, therefore relax.”
He said:
“Resources make bad decisions more expensive.”
Peyton listened.
I rebelled.
Not wildly.
I finished college.
Worked outside the family company for three years.
Then joined Ainsley Coastal in corporate development.
But everything I accomplished still came with:
Ainsley.
People assumed:
Dad hired her.
Dad funded her.
Dad approved her boyfriend.
So Spencer’s independence impressed me.
He grew up in:
Arizona.
No family company.
No trust.
No connections.
He had built Hale Marine Ventures by advising developers on:
small marina acquisitions,
charter businesses,
waterfront clubs.
He understood the industry.
He also understood:
me.
Or appeared to.
On our third date I complained about Dad reviewing one of my acquisition memos line by line.
Spencer said:
“He’s not reviewing your work.”
“He’s reminding you whose name is on the building.”
That sentence felt:
liberating.
Later I learned Spencer had a talent for taking real frustrations and turning them into:
evidence that everyone except him was against me.
At first, though, he simply seemed like the first person who saw Andrea separately from:
Victor’s daughter.
May you like
I fell hard.
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