While the the sons of Edward scurried about trying to maintain the company at some level of solvency, Eric was living on a tropical island. He was swimming, learning to scuba dive, and living. He became friendly with the owner of the guesthouse where he was staying.
Eric Rashford, son of multi millionaire Edward, had legally changed his name to Eric Nathan before he had departed the land of his birth.
He wanted no part of the Rashford fame. He wanted to be who he was, a working class man who had been on his feet since the age of fourteen.
The Rashford fortune was begun by Edward, but it was bolstered and maintained by the hard work and commitment of Eric.
The middle sons, Sam and John, had worked, not as hard nor sacrificed as much. But David, the youngest, born after the family had climbed out of poverty, never worked a moment of his life.
For Edward to decide to leave the company to his four sons equally was a kick in the face to Eric.
Fortunately, Eric had ‘only’ been forty five when Edward decided to divide the company, so sold his shares and went to the Caribbean. He booked into a Guest House as opposed to a Five Star hotel to maintain his identity as average guy.
For the first time in his life, Eric was alive.
He severed himself from affairs back home. He didn’t return for his father’s or mother’s funerals. As far as he was concerned they had used him, eaten his youth.
He returned their indifference.
As he lay in the sun, breathing clean air, he assumed that his brothers were making a botch of things, but for him it was a shrug.
That was not Eric Nathan’s life. This was.