The doors of the conference room clicked shut.
11 men in suits sat around the table.
Cardon Walker stood at the head as he was the president. He adjusted his glasses and looked at a paper on his leather folio.
Their company founder had died ten years ago and since then, the studio coasted on re-releases and family comedies.
The animation department had been shrunk, with the executives telling themselves cartoons were dying.
"I have the final 1976 Beauty and The Beast box office receipts from Paramount," Card said. "20 million dollars."
Silence fell over the room. with most executives staring at the table.
Paramount hadnt made a new Snow White but this was the first time, they had lost their spot as The Hollywood Animation Studio.
Roy E. Disney slammed his fist on the wood. Roy was Walt's, the founder's nephew, one of the company main producers and leader of the Animation division.
"This is unacceptable," Roy said as his face turned red. "They stole and beat us with our own people."
The room erupted in discussions.
"We need an injunction," Roy argued, leaning over the table. "Hauser poached Milt Kahl, but Milt defined our style for thirty years. There has to be a legal avenue to deal with him."
A man at the far end shook his head.
"We didn't own him, Roy. Milt was already semi-retired since his contract was done. Hauser just offered him cash and creative control. We have no legal standing."
Card raised his hands for calm, infighting at Disney was very common. Card even felt at times that Disney was less of a studio and more of a medieval royal court.
He needed to keep the peace before the factions turned it into a shouting match.
Ron Miller sat quietly near the head. He was Walt Disney's son-in-law, someone who was less of an artist, more of a businessman.
"What if we change our approach?" Ron suggested.
"Hauser has capital from his parent company. We have the brand. What if we bring them to the table?"
Everybody just turned to look at him like he was crazy.
Before Ron could defend his idea, the Vice President of Production cleared his throat and opened a folder.
"A partnership is likely off the table," the VP said. "My contacts at Paramount confirmed their next slate for Animation."
He pulled a memo from the folder. "Paramount Animation has greenlit The Little Mermaid and are poaching mid-level artists from our training program."
A collective groan echoed.
Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid tale had been on Disney's development slate for decades.
Walt himself had sketched it in the 1930s. Hearing Paramount was fast-tracking it felt like theft.
"They're doing what?" Roy demanded. He pushed his chair back. "That's our property. That belongs in our vault. We can't let them take the fairy tale market without a fight."
"That's only half the problem," the VP continued, raising a hand.
"They're also moving into pre-production on The Lord of the Rings, but theres a lack of details."
Ron Miller leaned forward, tapping his pen. "This is exactly why we need to talk to them." Ron insisted.
Roy turned his gaze to Ron. "We don't talk to them, Ron. We put dollars into our own animation department and crush them."
Card rubbed his temples where a headache was blooming. Of course, Roy would say that, he was the one to benefit the most if the Animation Department got funding.
He looked at Ron and nodded. "Go ahead. Articulate your proposal. Let us hear your thoughts."
Ron stood, buttoning his jacket. He knew he was walking into a minefield, but the company required bold thinking.
"A partnership with the Hauser empire," Ron began. "Or a structured merger."
He paced slowly behind his chair. "Hauser has distribution, capital, and a theme park opening in Florida."
"We have merchandising infrastructure, television syndication, our own way better Theme park and the most trusted family brand in the world."
Roy E. Disney stood up, pointing a finger at Ron. "You want to sell Walt's company? Hand over the keys because you're afraid of a 29 year-old?"
"I want to ensure this company survives the next decade," Ron countered.
"What's the alternative, Roy? We're losing market share every quarter. Our live-action films are underperforming."
"We fight him," Roy answered. "We hire better artists and tell better stories. We don't surrender the legacy just because the executives are frightened."
The passion in Roy's voice resonated with the old executives on the meeting.
The vote was informal, but the sentiment was clear. Ron's proposal was dead on arrival.
Card let out a long sigh. The board was too emotional for decisions today.
"Alright," Card said, raising his hands. "That's enough for this morning. We need time to think."
He ended the meeting and the executives fled out into the hallway.
Roy gathered his papers with a lot of strong emotieons on his face.
He walked past Ron Miller and stopped.
"I will fight this with every breath I have," Roy whispered. "I will not let you or anyone else sell this studio. This is a family legacy. Not a commodity."
____
Torn shreds of red and green wrapping paper littered the living room rug.
Bradley sat in the center of the mess, his small hands reaching for the next box.
Duke rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward from the edge of the sofa, he had his legs on the couch, while wearing a pajamas.
He watched his son tear the lid off a cardboard box, revealing a blue balance bike.
Bradley put the balance bike with no pedals onto the carpet and i started driving it around laughing.
Margaux sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, she shook her head, a smile on her lips.
"You've spoiled him," she teased, gesturing to the sprawling pile of toys that had already claimed most of their available floor space.
Duke chuckled, reaching behind the sofa to retrieve one final item. "If i have money, isnt it my job to spoil my kid?"
He produced a miniature, custom-made folding chair.
Across the black fabric in the back, Bradley's name was embroidered in white thread.
It was a scaled-down replica of a Hollywood director's chair.
Bradley abandoned his balance bike and ran toward the new piece of furniture. He grabbed the wooden armrests and lifted his small body upward.
He settled into the canvas seat, his feet dangling above the carpet.
Margaux laughed aloud, reaching for the SX-70 Polaroid camera resting on the coffee table.
She framed the shot and pressed the shutter button.
The camera make a sound, and spit out a picture, imortalizing the moment.
____
Short Chapter