She’d slept quite well.
She’d also dreamed quite vividly. Even now, remembering, she could feel warmth beneath her skin.
“You’re looking flushed.” Jack’s sharp gaze missed nothing. “Are you sick?”
Not so long ago, Helen would have believed that Jack would be happy if she’d said she was, for then he could insist she miss the meeting. It had been bad enough that he’d been thrust into helming Hanson Media after his father died, an act that had pulled him away from his own successful legal career. But it had been an even more bitter pill to have the stepmother he’d never had any use for become, essentially, his boss when George’s will had left her with the majority interest in the company.
In the past few months, Jack had not necessarily become fond of her, but he’d at least realized she wasn’t the dimwitted blond bimbo he’d once believed her to be. The merger with TAKA had been her idea, and he’d seen the value in it.
Hanson Media Group could not continue to function on its own. George’s mismanagement had been too devastating. But the merger with TAKA would ensure that the family business would continue to exist. His heritage would not be lost. It would certainly be changed, but they would continue. Hundreds of Hanson employees would keep their jobs. George’s boys would still have their inheritance, as would their children, once they began arriving. And considering that Delia, Andrew’s bride, was quite pregnant, that wouldn’t be far off now.
“I’m fine, Jack, just anxious to get this underway.” She glanced around the room, then at her watch. “Everyone is here but Mori.” The man wasn’t usually late.
“Mori?” Jack repeated. “Since when is he Mori?”
“Ever the lawyer,” Helen tsked lightly, patting his arm. No one would be seated around the table until the head honcho appeared, so she nodded toward the tea tray set up on a sleek ebony credenza. Today, the tray was manned by a thin woman who was as adept at fading into the background as the other voiceless attendants had been. “Do you want to start off with some tea?”
“I could float a steamer on all the tea I’ve drunk lately,” Jack muttered under his breath.
Helen hid a smile. “The details shouldn’t take much longer to finalize, then you can get back to normal life.”
He looked disbelieving.
She didn’t feel so much like smiling then. Was he so jaded that he couldn’t believe that he wasn’t sentenced to Hanson Media duty for the rest of his days?
She flipped open her leather notepad and drew out the gold pen that had been in her possession ever since she’d plucked it and a sealed envelope bearing her name out of George’s personal effects in his desk. She jotted a note on her daily journal to try reaching Judge Henry again back in Chicago, and as she did so, Mori entered the room, three young men dogging his heels as they nodded and listened intently to whatever it was that he was saying. His Japanese was too rapid and low for Helen to follow, but the words certainly had his minions scurrying when he finished.
His gaze traveled impersonally over the occupants of the room—all of whom had seemed to stand just a little straighter when he’d appeared—as he walked straight to the head of the conference table and rested his fingertips on the highly glossed ebony surface.
If Helen had hoped for his glance to linger when it reached her, she’d have been sorely disappointed. He gave her no more regard than he did the tea attendant who silently placed a tall glass of water beside him after he’d seated himself.
She told herself she wasn’t disappointed and that was that.
This was a business meeting, after all. Not an unexpected stroll through a park.
The rest of the attendees arranged themselves around the table, reminding Helen, not for the first time, of soldiers assuming battle positions. She was sitting to Mori’s left, with Jack nearest the man. The rest of the left side was occupied by her team. The right side of the table was comprised of TAKA representatives.
She wondered what the right side would do if the left pulled out a handful of rubber bands and began shooting them across the wide, wide table.
She grabbed the gold pen and banished her silly thoughts. Each place setting around the table had been furnished with a packet of materials bound within a slick cover that featured only the TAKA logo.
After a nod from his brother Mori, Shiguro Taka, a more familiar face at these meetings than Mori, smiled across the table and reached for his packet. “Good afternoon. We will turn to your marked pages, and continue from our last meeting. Mr. Hanson—” his attention focused on Jack “—you will note that the changes you required have been incorporated in this revision. They are so noted.” The explanation was redundant, since they’d all been down this road before. Helen didn’t bother pointing out that the last round of revisions had been at her demand, not Jack’s.
As long as the concessions had been made in favor of Hanson, she was happy. The last thing she wanted to do was lose even twelve percent of their Chicago staff because of outsourcing their accounting department to TAKA headquarters.
She followed the text of the voluminous document as Jack and Shiguro laboriously went point by point through the pages. The afternoon light was lengthening through the tall windows lining the wall when, nearly thirty pages later, she silently reached over to Jack’s copy and circled an item.
Shiguro kept reading aloud as Jack glanced at her. She shook her head, mouthing “No.”
He nodded and looked across the table at Shiguro. “I’m sorry, Mr. Taka. Our position with regard to the philanthropic budget remains unchanged. These funds are raised and administered by employees within the Chicago headquarters. It is an employee-driven effort that benefits the community and Hanson Media has always given a dollar-for-dollar match.”
Shiguro’s pleasant expression didn’t change. “A four-million-dollar employee giving campaign is an admirable accomplishment, Mr. Hanson, one that requires no additional corporate contributions.”
“Since its inception, Hanson Media Group has pledged equal support to that of its employees,” Helen spoke before Jack could. “It is that kind of involvement in our local communities that has helped Hanson maintain its strong foothold in the marketplace. The consumer buying one of our publications believes we’re in partnership with them in making a better community. It’s not just good citizenship—it’s good marketing.”
“Expensive marketing,” Shiguro countered, clearly willing to argue the point.
Helen was prepared for it, though. Goodness knows she’d argued with Jack and her own team over the matter often enough. Four million dollars a year was a lot of money, particularly for a company that had just narrowly avoided bankruptcy.
Mori murmured something to Shiguro, and the other man’s expression tightened. But he nodded. “A fifty-percent match.”
Jack started to speak. Helen touched his arm. “One hundred percent,” she said.
“Mrs. Hanson.” Shiguro shook his head almost pityingly as he sat back in his seat. “You must not understand the situation.”
“Sixty percent,” Mori said, cutting off his brother.
Helen looked Mori’s way, and found his gaze focused on her. She wished she’d accepted the tea or glass of water when the girl had offered it, since her mouth felt impossibly dry. “Ninety.”
She heard Jack murmur her name under his breath. “Be reasonable,” he added quietly.
She remained silent.
“Mrs. Hanson,” Shiguro interjected. “TAKA believes in contributing to its community as well. Our charitable giving—”
“—reached an incredibly generous three point seven percent of the proceeds for your last three fiscal years.”
Shiguro clearly did not appreciate being interrupted, least of all by her. “Sixty percent.” He repeated his brother’s concession.
She shook her head.
All around the table, members on both the right and left sides began shifting.
“If we agree to table this item for today,” Jack suggested, “we
could continue?”
Helen could have sat there all evening and argued her side, but she knew in the scheme of things, the point was a relatively minor one to most everyone but her. “We can resolve it another time,” she agreed. The practice wasn’t uncommon to their negotiations.
Shiguro glanced at Mori, and seemed to take his silence for assent, because he focused once more on their agreement. “We will continue, then, in the following section.” Papers rustled around the table as pages were turned.
“The changeover in all branding to the TAKA brand will be accomplished within twelve months,” Shiguro read, glancing at Jack over the top of the reading glasses he’d pushed onto his nose.
Helen carefully set her pen down on the center of her notepad.
Shiguro continued. “All media relations regarding the acquisition of Hanson Media Group will be directed through the Tokyo office.”
At that, even Jack started shaking his head. “That is neither feasible nor practical.”
“It is TAKA’s belief that—”
“This is not an acquisition,” Helen reminded him, for what felt like the millionth time. That was the tightrope they constantly walked—to retain as much control of Hanson Media as they possibly could while availing themselves of the power and positioning of the Japanese juggernaut. “The branding of Hanson Media Group carries more weight with Americans than TAKA does. By exchanging one for the other, we’ll be alienating the very people who keep us in business. These are the people who purchase HMG periodicals. Listen to HMG radio stations. Subscribe to HMG online services. To them, TAKA is just another name. HMG is part of American culture.”
“As TAKA is not acquiring your radio stations, we are not concerned with that,” Shiguro said. “And while I’m sure your opinion is heartfelt, every acquisition of TAKA bears the TAKA name.”
“Until now. And could we refrain from using the term acquisition? This—” she hefted the bound document up a few inches and let it drop heavily on the table “—is a merger.”
Shiguro gave her a condescending look before transferring his focus to Jack, then to the raft of legal eagles to Helen’s side. “This acquisition will be handled in the same manner as we’ve always—”
“Mrs. Hanson is correct.” Mori’s words stopped Shiguro’s midstream. “A study was commissioned a few years ago on the importance of branding in the American marketplace. Perhaps Hanson Media Group is not up to the level to which some soft drinks or photocopiers have risen, but it was nevertheless one of the most widely recognized corporate names in that area of the country.”
Helen slowly picked up her pen again. She had a print out of the salient points from that particular study tucked in a pocket of her notepad. Now, she wouldn’t even have to pull it out.
Her gaze lingered on Mori, but she directed her comment toward the other side of the table. “Hanson Media Group may have had some faltering moments this past year—” a mild understatement “—but that does not negate the positive public image it has held for decades. TAKA will be benefiting more in the U.S. under our brand, and there is not one person around this table who does not recognize that fact.” She let her gaze travel that table, resting briefly on each person in turn. “We would, however, consider changing the name to Hanson North America. With the divestiture of our radio division prior to the merger with TAKA, we could roll out the amended corporate name and play on the broadening to an international status.”
Mori gave a slight nod. Nobody argued with her suggestion. Shiguro was surprisingly quiet.
“Hanson North America. I will have our PR department get in touch with yours to coordinate the details. The item regarding branding will be amended,” Mori said and that was that. They moved on to the next paragraph.
Jack gave her a sideways look of approval and Helen wanted to sit on her hands to keep from shaking with triumph. Instead, she just kept a tight grip on George’s gold pen.
There was no sunlight pouring through the windows by the time the meeting ended. Helen had a stiff ache in the small of her back from sitting for so long. She’d taken pages of notes, and argued several more points, not all of which she won, but overall, she was intensely satisfied with the accomplishments of the day.
And the evening.
“I suppose I’m going to have to go out and drink with these people again,” Jack murmured to her as everyone rose and began talking about anything under the sun as long as it was not mergers and acquisitions. “I’d rather get back to Samantha.”
Helen didn’t doubt it, but she knew there was no point in reminding Jack that if he was invited out, he couldn’t possibly refuse, for to do so would be offensive.
Shiguro was making his way toward them, his customary smile back in place. He did not present the physical presence that his brother did, but he was nevertheless a striking man. “My brother wishes a moment with you, Mrs. Hanson, if you would be so kind?”
Helen ignored the surprised look she received from Jack. “Of course.” She excused herself and headed toward Mori. Behind her, she heard Shiguro courteously ask Jack and the rest of the Hanson team—all men—to join him for drinks. She didn’t let it bother her that she was not included in the invitation. It wasn’t the first time she’d been excluded, and she had no real desire to beat the bars for several hours before engaging in an argument over who would take care of the check, which—according to Jack—was how most of those excursions ended. That particular debate was primarily an expected exercise in courtesy. TAKA always picked up the tab in the end no matter how many times Jack insisted on getting it “next time.”
Mori stood near the door, in conversation with two other men. The assistant who’d accompanied him, and who’d been the minute-taker of the meeting, was standing just behind him, taking more copious notes.
Helen waited to the side, not wanting to interrupt him. She was well aware of Jack still watching her even as he conversed with Shiguro. Of course he would be curious why Mori would request to speak with her. It wasn’t a common occurrence. In fact, it was a first-time occurrence.
Her eldest stepson caught her eye. More than curious, she decided, giving Jack an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Jack was definitely…disapproving.
And, sadly, that wasn’t uncommon at all. She ought to have been used to it by now. George’s boys had never accepted her marriage to their father despite her best efforts at forging some sort of relationship with them. She really ought to have developed a thicker hide by now.
“Mrs. Hanson.” Mori touched her elbow and she nearly jumped right out of her skin.
She laughed a little, meeting his intensely dark gaze. Mrs. Hanson. Not Helen. So much for progress. “You caught me woolgathering, I’m afraid.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Daydreaming.”
“Ah…well, yes.”
His lips lifted ever so faintly. “I hope they were pleasant, then. The daydreams.” His gaze flicked briefly to the darkened windows before returning to her face. “Though the day is already sleeping.”
She could feel Jack’s gaze boring a hole in her back. “Was there something specific you wished to speak with me about?”
“Yes.” He looked beyond her. “Your son must have made a formidable attorney. He looks fierce.”
“Jack is well-suited to the law,” she understated. Jack had been formidable. He still was, for that matter. No more than the man standing beside her, however.
“You are tired?”
She hesitated, thrown by the directly personal comment. “It’s been a long day.” Preceded by many long days. “But I’m pleased with the results.”
Now, there was a definite glint in his eyes. “I’m certain that you are,” he said mildly. “Shiguro is perhaps less pleased.”
Helen smiled faintly, not commenting. They watched Shiguro and his group make their way out of the conference room, Jack among them.
When their voices no longer could be heard in the corridor, however, the vast quietness of the conference ro
om pressed in on Helen.
As did the fact that she and Mori were very much alone.
“Did you wish to join them?”
Once again, she was surprised by his perception, and then annoyed with herself for being surprised. The man was far too observant. “No,” she admitted.
“Shiguro has a liking for karaoke that not everyone shares.”
The image of Jack in a karaoke bar made Helen’s lips lift. But she still didn’t know what had prompted Mori’s request to speak with her.
“You are…feeling better?”
Caution leaked into her. “I’m quite well, thank you.”
“Our negotiations have progressed more slowly than we expected.”
She considered reminding him that he was the primary reason for that, with his objections that had nearly derailed the deal more than once. “Things worthwhile aren’t often come by easily.”
He nodded slightly. “I tell my daughter that when she does not want to study.”
It was hard envisioning the severe businessman as a father, though she’d already known he was one. “How old is your daughter?”
“Twelve. For another few months, anyway.”
“Ah. Almost a teenager. Are you prepared for that?” she asked lightly.
“Dreading,” he deadpanned. “Will you dine with me?”
Her pen slipped from her fingers.
He stooped and retrieved it before she could, and held it up to study. “I have noticed that you are never without this. What do the initials signify?”
She took it when he handed it to her, and slid it into her portfolio. “My husband’s name.” She didn’t really want to talk about the pen she’d given George or its significance. “Was there something particular about the merger you wanted to discuss?”
“Over dinner, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“Not everything concerns business.”
“Right now, for me it does.” The admission came without thought.
Mergers & Matrimony Page 4