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The first rule of secrets was not to tell anyone. Keep the secret to yourself, and you only had yourself to blame if it was discovered. But since Sigurd clearly had an accomplice, the circle of those in the know was already beyond one, and a slip up was just a matter of time.
Melissa’s envelope from yesterday sat next to my computer where I’d left it last night. I picked it up, but decided to let it rest unopened again today. Why give her the satisfaction of annoying me? My lawyer could give me the short version later after he’d digested it and had a plan for how to deal with her.
As if she had surveillance in my house, my cell burst to life with her ugly mug on the screen.
I hit the decline button, and the face disappeared. The picture of her wasn’t actually ugly; it was just that I had seen through the facade.
Beneath the pretty face, embellished with too much makeup, was an ugly soul, one intent on inflicting pain and misery. She also had less common sense than a squirrel. She had insisted more than once that we give it another try, but that would be like pissing into the wind—after all the effort I’d come out even worse than before I started.
It had been my fault for rushing into the wedding, but maybe more time wouldn’t have changed the outcome. She was, or had been, an actress, after all. And her performance had been good enough to fool me.
The phone beeped, and the screen showed she’d left a voicemail.
I navigated to the voicemail page and deleted the message without listening to it. I’d had enough aggravation yesterday to last me a month.
* * *
This morning,I skipped my normal stop at Starbucks and went directly to work.
The elevator doors opened, and I was ready for a better day than yesterday.
When I opened the door to Mahogany Row, as some called it, Cindy was already at her desk.
Her smile was even perkier than usual. “I thought today might be a busy one,” she said, answering my unasked question. She handed me several pink message slips. “They started calling early.”
“Thanks, Cin.” All three messages were from analysts. I handed them back. “Larry can handle these. He’ll enjoy it.”
The analysts were always trying to get past Larry and talk directly to me, hoping to get something beyond the standard info dump he gave all the analysts access to. They were looking for an angle, an advantage over the next guy.
She held one slip up. “All except Gumpert. He was mad yesterday that he hadn’t gotten a heads up.”
“He deserves Larry.”
Inside my office, I spotted a cup of coffee already on my desk.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I called.
“I figured you could use it,” Cindy replied from my door. “Also, Jay was already by this morning.”
After his attempt to lecture me yesterday on being rash, I would look forward to pointing out how well the spin-off strategy had worked at turning around our stock price.
I powered up my computer and clicked on the stock price bookmark. Up another two percent.
Yes, it would be a good discussion.
I took off my jacket and hung it on the antique coat rack in the corner, a gift from my brother Zack, who was into antiques. Even the car he drove was old.
“Hey, Cin, would you mind fetching Jay for me? I’d like to have that chat.”
She agreed and was off. If she called, there was a chance he’d be busy. When she went personally, she never failed to return with him in tow.
Jay had worked directly for my dad back at the family company. He’d never said as much, but I wondered if he didn’t think working here for me represented a step down for him.
My desk phone rang, and I answered it.
“Glad I caught you,” Michael Gumpert said when I picked up.
“Morning, Michael. I’m on my way to a meeting.” It wouldn’t be wise to hang up on him the way I wanted to.
