Harlan rested both hands on my welding table and told me something Spencer had apparently never bothered mentioning. Ashford Steel had started with Harlan, one borrowed truck, and a secondhand welding machine. He had spent nearly twenty years working jobs himself before the company became successful. Most of the “important business guests” Spencer wanted to impress were contractors, fabricators, and construction executives who had started exactly where I was standing.
The following Sunday, Harlan called a meeting at the farm. Jenna, Spencer, Mom, and I sat beneath the oak beside the arch. Harlan did not threaten to cancel the wedding or humiliate anyone. He simply told Spencer that if he was ashamed to shake a welder’s hand, he was not mature enough to represent a steel company built by welders. Then he told Jenna that the man who had spent four weekends building her memorial to Earl deserved more respect than someone chosen for a guest list because of his bank account.
