outlines. She asked me to read it and, provided I was willing to accept it, asked me to stop by the office next week to look at the paperwork and asked permission for their team to visit Maple Grove House for some assessment work. I gave my approval to the team right away and thanked her for the call.
The outlines of the proposal were quite simple. Jared was willing to provide the necessary funds to build the cottages upon successful promotion of the project and receiving at least two downpayments. So I had to use my own money to begin the project and he would join me once he saw it was going well. I could not say I was happy with it, but it was a definite sign that he was interested. In my position, I felt like I had to roll the dice and accept it–beggars can’t be choosers and all that.
I called my lawyer, Mr. Goldberg, and told him about the deal. He was not too enthusiastic about the conditions either, but it was “definitely better than nothing if you’re smart about it.” He was an old friend of the family and knew me well. Too well, I might add. For him, it was good news because it meant that the dry spell might be over, and he was finally going to get paid for his work. He had been our family’s lawyer for more than forty years. In fact, my grandfather had hired him to do some paperwork when he was still a law school student. He continued to personally provide his invaluable services even after he had started his own firm, Goldberg and Associates, which became quite a respectable company in the City. I asked him to join me in the meeting with Jared’s team; I preferred to have him by my side to correct my slips of the tongue.
“Let’s do everything right this time,” Mr. Goldberg said, reminding me of some of my decisions in the past that had been made in a hurry.
I had to let my parents know. They had never been too worried about money for the greater part of their lives. My father didn’t show much concern for it outwardly because, as he explained once, he was “an old-fashioned gentleman and it was vulgar to talk about it.” That, however, didn’t mean that he was a reckless spender. On the contrary, he was trying his best to preserve what had been left to him. He also had other investments in different parts of the country and often travelled to meet with his business partners when I was young. His business activities and the financial returns on his investments had significantly subsided over the years after Charlie’s disappearance because he had been neglecting the business side and focusing more on supporting my mother and, probably, inwardly, dealing with it himself. Recently, despite the lack of a proven track of success on my side, he started to give me more opportunities, within certain financial limits, to help him with improving our financial situation and to teach me to “be accountable for my own actions and for the future of the family.” My mother had always trusted my father with all the financial decisions and didn’t want to spend her time “counting coins.”
I called them the next day. My father didn’t feel well, and I spoke to my mother. She tried to sound happy, but I could sense a bit of acting in her voice. She didn’t want to do anything with the house after Charlie had vanished. As far as she was concerned, I could sell the lot. I felt a bit disappointed that my idea hadn’t impressed her much, but I didn’t dwell on that too long because some good money was to be made, which was the most important thing, and my mother had never been interested in finances anyway. I was sure it would work this time.
Later the same day, I had plans to spend some time with Natasha and Christopher. Back in university, the ever-reliable Christopher had proved himself to be an excellent drinking partner and an expert in dealing with hangovers. The two qualities that I still valued. Unlike James Harding, Christopher was a neat gentleman–trustworthy and a real pleasure to get drunk with. I hadn’t told either of them about the deal. These were the people who had not worn their hearts on their sleeves, and I had been one of them.
Natasha arranged for us to go to some charity event and announced the news when we were having dinner at a French bistro.
“There’ll be a lot of people who are looking for opportunities to invest their money,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to meet someone useful.”
“Whom will we be giving our money this time, darling?” Christopher asked, sipping his Old Fashioned. He liked charity events because it was not only “a way to give back,” but also they were “good places to meet smart and educated people.” Unlike me, he enjoyed having meaningful conversations and learning new things.
“I need to check my schedule,” I said and raised my index finger before anyone could make a sarcastic comment. “I mean it this time.” I looked at Natasha. “When will this wonderful event of yours take place?”
She finished her Champagne cocktail before answering the question. “It’s tomorrow.” This time it was her turn to raise index fingers. “I know it’s short notice but do try to make it and I promise you won’t regret it.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “They’ll have an open bar.”
***
The next day Christopher and I presented ourselves at the venue, properly dressed and groomed. Since it was a black tie event, I chose my deep double-breasting Tom Ford tuxedo with wide lapels and a custom-made white dress shirt from Charvet. The latter was a luxury investment in a masterpiece of shirt making which the likes of Sir Winston Churchill and His Majesty Napoleone Bonaparte had appreciated long before me. I was pleased to see that Christopher looked dashing like a movie star in his tux from Henry Poole & Co. that slimmed his torso and broaden his shoulders.
Just as we were about to compliment each other on our sartorial choices, Natasha showed up in a spectacular black maxi dress with open back detail and asymmetric neck cut. I could not tell the brand of the dress, and it did not really matter. She was gorgeous and her beautiful diamond chandelier earrings added a sparkling detail to her striking look.
“Glad you both could make it,” she said after she did her compulsory red carpet photo session and pecked us on the cheeks. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“May we just take a moment and pay you a compliment before we start networking?” I said, kissing her hand. “You look amazing.” I looked at Christpher. “Doesn’t she?”
“Absolutely,” he said and took his turn to kiss Natasha’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said and looked at someone behind us. “Oh, that’s the gentleman I’d like you both to meet.”
We turned.
“He’s a billionaire from the States who moved to the City a few months ago,” Natasha explained. “His names is –”
“Jared Shannon,” I finished.
“You know him then,” Natasha could not hide her disappointment in the fact that I had just ruined her surprise and pursed her lips.
“How do you know him?” I asked, watching Jared waving to Natasha, and beelining towards us.
“Oh, we met at a thing a few weeks ago. You know, I must meet this kind of people to … Oh, hello Jared.” She opened her arms for a hug and greeted the man in a fine tuxedo who I’d been hoping to become my way out of the approaching financial abyss. The fact that they were already on a first-name basis felt a tad unsettling.
“May I introduce my friends to you?” Natasha said, after she finally released Jared from her hospitable embrace that looked a tad clingy to me.
“I think I know at least one of them,” Jared said and extended his hand for a shake. “How are you, Alex?”
I shook his hand. “Fine, thank you.” I pointed to Christopher. “This is my friend Christopher Deven.”
“It’s baron Christopher Deven.” Natasha corrected me with a friendly but slightly judgmental shake of her head.
“Christopher’s fine,” Christopher saved me from the introductory faux pas and shook Jared’s hand with a smile.
“How are you doing, Christopher?” Jared asked and looked at Natasha. “I didn’t know you’d be bringing guests tonight.”
“These two needed a bit of fresh air.”
We all laughed politely; the way people do when they have nothing to say.
“I’ll