Second Chance on St. Patrick's Day

by Mia Ford

  “It’s wonderful,” I said with a sigh.

  He bumped me with his elbow to get my attention. “Why don’t we freshen up, then I’ll make us a pot of coffee and we can get started going over the contracts. I brought copies for both of us.”

  “I already have a copy that I’ve marked up with questions,” I said. “It’s in my briefcase.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’ve already marked up a copy? I hope there are no extensive changes you want made. I can only agree to so much without having my own lawyers have a look.”

  I smiled. It was cute, the nervous look in his eye. I tapped a finger to his chin. “Don’t worry, Mr. McGee, there’s nothing major to worry about. Just clarification on a few points.”

  “Well then, that’s good to know,” he said with a smile. He held out a hand toward the door. “I’ll put on the coffee and meet you at the kitchen table in fifteen minutes.”

  * * *

  We spent the better part of an hour going over the contract line by line without any surprises popping up. The red lines I’d made previously were just minor points, wording mostly, things that didn’t require his lawyer’s approval. Uncle Allen had told me that the contract had been hammered out by teams of lawyers from both sides, so I basically read the contract out loud while Conner sipped his coffee and nodded his head.

  After a while, Conner started to get antsy. He finished his coffee and propped his chin on a fist. “Can we just cut to the chase?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This agreement has been beaten to death by a dozen lawyers,” he said. “Allen agreed to every point, as did I. So why are we really here?”

  I pretended to have no idea what he was talking about. “Allen just wanted me to make sure there would be no surprises,” I said. “You know how we Irish are. We are a suspicious lot. And we do not like surprises.”

  “I understand that, but this contact has been blessed by both sides,” he said, holding out his hands with the palms up as if showing me he had nothing to hide. “I mean, I’m enjoying spending time with you, but I’m just wondering why that time is being spent beating this horse to death?”

  I closed the folder and put the cap on the red pen I’d been using. I set the pen on top of the folder and laced my fingers together. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Fine, I’ll tell you Allen’s main concern, and you can tell me he has no reason to be concerned. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a nod. “Please do.”

  “Allen is concerned that once the dust settles, you’ll somehow take over the board and oust him as CEO, and move the company offshore. Cheaper labor, higher profits, that sort of thing.”

  He studied me with his eyes for a moment, then he arched his eyebrows and shook his head. “We have no intention of doing anything like that,” he said. “We want Allen in the CEO’s chair as long as he wants to occupy it. You have my personal guarantee.”

  “I have your personal guarantee?”

  “Yes, you have my personal guarantee—my word—that after the deal is done, there will be no move on the part of Price Bean & Whitlock, or the board, to ouster Allen Benson as CEO or move the company offshore. That’s never even been discussed.”

  “So, manufacturing will remain in New York,” I said. “And Allen will remain as CEO.”

  “Like I said, the job is his as long as he wants it,” he said. “Although, I have gotten the feeling on occasion that Allen might be getting tired of the grind of running the company. Does he have any intention of leaving after the deal is done?”

  I thought about Uncle Allen’s cancer and his desire to slow down and enjoy the life he had left. I wondered if Conner knew about it, or was he just fishing? I said, “I’m not sure that’s the case. Uncle Allen is dedicated to Benson Digital, and everyone involved.”

  “Let me ask you a question, then,” he said. “Is everything okay with Allen? Health wise, I mean?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “I’m aware of his history with cancer,” Conner said. “I’m just wondering if it’s back. Or if there are other health concerns. If there are, we need to know about it.”

  “Would that affect the deal?” I asked.

  He shook his head slowly. “Not necessarily, but it might affect his ability to lead the company. If we’re going to need to conduct a CEO search, the sooner we know that the better.”

  “I’m sure that if Allen thought his health was going to have a negative effect on the company, he’d let you know.” I tried not to wince at the bad taste the lie left in my mouth. The truth was, Uncle Allen probably would have to step down sooner rather than later, whether the sale went through or not. Everyone involved knew that the company was worth much more with Allen Benson at the helm. I hated to deceive Conner, but Allen needed this deal to happen soon. He was my client. And he was family. My loyalty was with him.

  “Well, Allen seems like an honest man,” Conner said. “And as his representative, I expect you to be honest, as well.”

  “You have my word that there is nothing wrong with Allen Benson that will hurt this company in any way. He is as dedicated as the first day he opened the doors. He would never do anything to harm the company, its employees, customers, or investors.”

  “Then neither of us has anything to worry about,” he said.

  I hated to lie to him, but I had no choice.

  I pushed the folder away and said, “Then I guess we have a deal.”

  “Excellent!” he said. He gave me a big smile and held out his hands. “Now, how about a little fun?”

  Chapter 18: Katie

  “Well, I promised Uncle Allen that I would call him as soon as I had news,” I said with a satisfied smile. I picked up the folder containing the contract and held it up before putting it back into my briefcase. “Just to be clear, we are good to proceed with the scheduled closing of the deal next week. Friday at noon, Price Bean & Whitlock will execute the purchase of Benson Digital as outlined herein.”

  “Goodness, you sound like such a lawyer,” he said with a playful frown. He sat back with his fingers laced behind his head and smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I believe we have an accord. We have dotted all the I’s and crossed all the T’s. The deal is good to go. This time next week Price Bean & Whitlock will be the majority owner of Benson Digital. And Allen Benson will be set for life.”

  There was something in the way he said it that made a tiny red flag in my head wave, but I dismissed it. He was a hard-assed business man. I’d been around his kind a lot since coming to New York City. To him, it was all a game, a competition. Even when the deal was win/win, in his head, he had to come out on top.

  I forced a smile and slid the folder into my briefcase, then picked up from my phone. “Okay, awesome. I need some privacy.”

  “Sure, you can use my study.” He got out of the chair and came around the table with his arm out. “Madam.”

  “You have a study?” I asked as I looped my arm through his. “How quaint.”

  “Ah, don’t be too impressed,” he said, bumping me with his shoulder. “It came with the house. I’m going to turn it into a game room. Pinball, a pool table, video games, a virtual reality station.”

  “You’re such a guy,” I said with a smile. “Aren’t you supposed to grunt like a caveman?”

  “Oh, I’ll be doing that later tonight,” he said, growling the words. “Will you be my cave woman?” I felt the crotch of my panties getting warm and wet even as the words left his lips.

  “Just don’t drag me around by my hair,” I said playfully.

  “Can I pull your hair from behind?”

  “You can pull it, but don’t drag me by it.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Right this way.”

  Conner escorted me down a long hallway to the study. It was a manly room with a high ceiling, plank floors, dark paneling, rich mahogany and leather furniture, and one wall lined with floor-to-ceiling book cases.

  “Wow,
you weren’t kidding,” I said, glancing around the room. “This is very manly… so not you.”

  “Hey, I’m manly,” he said with a grin. “To prove it, I’m going to make us a late lunch while you make your call. I assume you’ll eat soup and salad?”

  “A very manly meal,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Would you prefer I go trap something?” he asked. “Or take the boat out and catch a giant tuna?”

  “No, no, soup and salad are fine,” I said. “No dressing.”

  “Yes, madam.” He gave a playful bow and backed out of the room, closing the heavy double doors behind him.

  There was a huge mahogany desk in front of the wide windows that looked out over the ocean. The desk was neat and tidy, as if it had never been used. I sat in the high-backed leather chair with my phone between my hands. I pressed the button to Facetime Uncle Allen and waited for the call to connect. He answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, there, Katie O’Hara,” he said, holding up his phone so I could just see part of his face. What is it with older people? They never knew how to hold the phone to Facetime.

  “I can’t see you,” I said. “Hold the phone in front of your face.”

  He moved the phone so his face was somewhat framed in the video, then gave me a big smile and asked, “How is the meeting going?”

  “Actually, we’re done,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was just after three o’clock. Our review took less than two hours. I regretted calling Uncle Allen so quickly. I was sure he would think I hadn’t done my job thoroughly.

  “Really? You’re done? So soon?” I saw him frown over the video. “I thought it would take much longer.”

  “Well, your attorney had done a great job,” I said in my defense, although I did wonder if I sped through the process too quickly in anticipation of doing other things with Conner.

  No, dammit, I had been very thorough.

  I said, “I pressed him on what happens after the deal is done, and he was adamant that there would be no move to oust you as CEO or move the manufacturing offshore. He said it was not something they had even considered.”

  “Those guys can say whatever they want,” Allen said. “It’s what can be enforced legally that matters.”

  “He is willing to put that in the agreement,” I said.

  “He is?”

  “He is.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I do,” I said. “And as you say, if it’s in the contract he can’t do much about it. Your job as CEO is safe, as are the jobs of your people.”

  “Well, that’s… great.” He said it like he still didn’t believe it.

  “He seems very dedicated to your legacy, Uncle Allen,” I said. “I believe he’ll do what he says. If it’s in the agreement, he won’t have a choice.”

  “Okay, well, that’s good to know,” he said with a relieved sigh. He took a moment, then frowned into the camera. “Did you mention anything about my health?”

  “No, of course not,” I said, glancing at the door. The doors were closed, and I didn’t think Conner would eavesdrop, but I brought the phone closer to my face and lowered my voice. “That’s not my news to deliver. You can offer that news when you’re ready to do so.”

  “Do you think I should say something before we close the deal?” he asked. “I mean, I feel a little guilty not telling them that my cancer is back.”

  “You’re not dying, Uncle Allen,” I said. “You’re not going to leave them high and dry.”

  “No, but it will probably be the end of my reign at Benson Digital.”

  I sucked in a long breath. “Honestly, in the spirit of full disclosure, you should say something, but there is no clause in the contract regarding the state of your health or ability to lead the company in the future. Legally, the deal does not hinge on your medical state.”

  “So, you’re saying, if they don’t bring it up…”

  “You shouldn’t bring it up either,” I said.

  He nodded. I watched him bite his lip for a moment. “I hate to not say anything,” he said quietly. “But I’d hate to blow the deal just because the cancer is back. There are too many people counting on this deal going through. If it was just about me, I’d keep things as they are.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “So…”

  “So.”

  He blew out a long breath and rubbed his chin.

  “Okay, let’s plan on closing on schedule as planned. I assume that’s still set for next Friday at noon at Price Bean & Whitlock.”

  “Yes, that has not changed.”

  “Will you be there?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I can be. Your in-house counsel should be there.”

  “Jeff will be there, but I’d really like to have a friendly face next to me,” he said. “We can celebrate afterward. Maybe we can hit a McDonald’s for a Happy Meal like the old days, on me.”

  Uncle Allen used to take me to McDonald’s for Happy Meals whenever he came home to Boston to visit my mom when I was small. He and my dad were not huge fans of one another. And my dad thought spending money on fast food was paramount to throwing it away.

  “That sounds like fun,” I said. “I haven’t had a Happy Meal in a long time. Count me in.”

  “Okay, Katie girl, I appreciate you doing this for me.” His eyes narrowed, and he held his phone closer to his face. All I could see was his eyes. “Hey, where are you? I thought you were meeting at his office in the city.”

  “I am at his office,” I said, looking around. I realized that he could see the wide windows behind me. I shifted quickly so all he could see was the wall of books behind my head. “I’m in a conference room.”

  “Hmm, that looked like the ocean behind you.”

  I snorted a laugh. “I wish. Okay, I have to go, Uncle Allen. They’re coming back in now from the break.”

  “Okay, I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that my company is safe in your hands, Katie O’Hara.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but his words came down on my shoulders like a great weight.

  I forced a smiled.

  “Take care, Uncle Allen. I’ll call you on Monday.”

  I hung up the phone thinking that I had done everything in my power to make sure Uncle Allen was getting everything he wanted from his association with Conner McGee.

  Now it was my turn.

  Chapter 19: Conner

  I closed the study doors to give Katie time to fill her uncle in on our deal. I was walking on air, mainly because the points Katie brought up were minor and not deal breaking, and there was no mention of the patents for the new chips, which was all I really gave a damn about.

  I was not feeling the slightest bit guilty. I had not deceived her in the least. In my mind, I had been as open and honest with her as she was had been me. It was a business negotiation, after all. We came at the deal from opposite sides, and both had an agenda for being there.

  In the end, she got what she wanted, and I got what I wanted.

  No harm, no foul, time to party.

  We fully intended to sell off the computer chip manufacturing arm of Allen’s business within a few months of closing the deal. But we didn’t care what happened to the operation after that. Manufacturing could stay in New York City or move to fucking Bumfuck Egypt for all I cared. That would be a fight between Allen—if he hung on as CEO— and whomever bought our interest in the plant.

  My guess was that there would be a legal challenge by Allen and his allies on the board, but it would be a moot point.

  We would have the votes to support the deal, and every legal right to sell.

  There wasn’t a fucking thing anyone could do about it.

  In my mind, the only asset of real, long-term value that Benson Digital owned was the patent to its new chip designs. And those patents could easily be cut free of the rest of the company’s assets. If Allen Benson would have just sold us the patents in the first place, we would have let him keep the manufacturing operation b
ecause we had no use for it.

  I went into the kitchen and rang Reed’s cell phone while pulling the makings of our late lunch from the fridge. Reed never answered his phone. He always let it go straight to voice mail, then he’d decided if you were worth of a call back.

  I left a message I knew would make him call me back.

  “Hey, it’s me. The deal is done. Call me back if you want a little good news.”

  I slid the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and got to making lunch. I had called ahead to have the house manager stock the fridge before we arrived. We were only going to be there overnight, so she just brought in what we’d need for snacks and a light afternoon meal, and breakfast goodies for the morning. Dinner tonight would be catered by the best restaurant on the island.

  I took out a head of lettuce and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes and set them on the counter. There was a container of chicken soup the house manager’s wife made for us. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had anything that was “homemade”. I poured it into a pot and put it on a stove eye to warm. I leaned down to take a whiff. It reminded me of the chicken soup my mother made when I was a kid.

  As I was about to wash the lettuce and tomatoes, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I turned off the faucet, switched the eye under the soup to Low, and stepped out onto the back deck.