Theprojections on the screen show what an opportunity this growing town is for my company.
“Who?”Imurmur.
“Theone you just helped.”
Ilook up.Hisattention is fixed on the road ahead as we pass between two fields.Onewith sheep, the other with some sort of green crop starting to grow.Christ,Ican’t wait to see theNewYorkskyline.
“Ionly helped her because you pulled over and insistedIdid.I’dhave been happy to cruise right on by.We’dbe half an hour closer to civilization by now if we hadn’t stopped.”
AndIdidn’t help her much.Pollywas too proud to let me.Andso proud to know every last detail of who grew her produce.Isuck in my lips as they threaten to curl into something resembling a smile.Shedidn’t seem to like me at all.Andshe sure as fuck would like me even less if she’d known whyIwas there.
“Ihave good instincts,” saysGeorge.Withoutmoving his head, he looks back into the rearview mirror and waggles his eyebrows at me.“AndI’venever seen you date anyone that adorable.”
“Likemy mom said,George.Eyeson the road.”
* * *
“Morning,Mr.Dashwood,” chirps the new receptionist asIemerge from the elevator and step onto the white marble floor of the executive level of my office tower.
Inod and smile soIdon’t have to say “Morning” without adding her name.WhichI’veforgotten.
Mycompany,HarvestEnterprises, uses the top two floors of the building.Werent out the rest to select businesses.There’salways a long waitlist for space, but few companies make it through the strict vetting process.
It’scalledHarvestbecauseIpick up any business that’s good and ripe and ready to go.Likethis skyscraper, theYellowBarngrocery chain, a mattress-in-a-box company—as long as it’s not illegal or cruel, if it makes good money,Isnap it up for my portfolio.Ienjoy how different they all are.Itkeeps me on my toes.Likehaving a bunch of kids with different personalities.
Outsidemy office, my executive assistant,Charlotte, straightens her pastel color-coded files on the new shiny white shelves behind her desk.
“Ah, there you are,” she says. “Tarquinkeeps calling for you.Wantsto go over the spreadsheets.Saysyou’re not answering your phone andI'mto make you call him back the secondIsee you.”
Herponytail swings from side to side as she talks.Itwould irritate the living shit out of me if it weren’t attached to a head that contains the answer to almost any question about my own company thatIcould ask.
“Iwasanswering my phone.Justnot tohim.”
ItookTarquinon asCFOsix months ago to help level up the business with his cutthroat ways.Ihadn’t anticipated his inability to ever turn off his shark-like manner.Buthe’s a brilliant finance guy, so he stays.
Charlottechuckles. “Youcan’t still be scared of him.Youdo know you’re his boss, right?”
“That’sa stretch.Whenwas the last time you called meMr.Dashwood?”
“Threeyears ago.Atmy interview.”
She’slike the annoying but monumentally efficient little sisterInever had.ThoughIdoubt my youngest brother would gaze so adoringly at her if she were our sister.
“IfIweren’t certain that, ifIdropped down dead right now, you’d step over my still warm corpse and run this place better than me,Imight have something to say about that.”
“Coffee?”
“Readmy mind.”
Iswing open the glass door in the glass wall of my office and drop my laptop and theYellowBarnstore plans on my desk.
Myshoulders instantly drop away from my ears.Hell, it’s good to be home.
Iamble across the room to the floor-to-ceiling windows.Evenon the increasing number of days whereIfeel trapped in a glass box, shuffling papers, and having soul-sucking conversations about letters of intent and indemnities, this view lifts my spirit.Theafternoon sun glints off theEastRiver.Fuck, this city is a beauty.
Charlottedoes her trademark two taps on the door behind me.
Iturn to see her stick her head around it and cut her off before she even opens her mouth. “TellTarquintheTerribleI’llcall him back.Ina minute.”
