Van
Present Day
The office building was quiet at this early hour, the day after Christmas. Technically, since the twenty-fifth landed on a Sunday, today was the observed holiday. The employees of Sherman and Madison had the day off to continue their celebrations. A smile ghosted across my expression as I recalled Julia’s and my celebration.
Last evening, for a few moments, I’d been concerned that my answer regarding Madison had ruined everything. There was a time when I’d wanted Madison to have the title of wife. I’d wanted it enough to decimate the entire world if it would lead her to me. My obsession with her was unhealthy. That was what some PhD in some book said. I probably could have benefitted from actual therapy.
Men like me don’t confide their secrets to anyone, not even someone with the promise of doctor-patient confidentiality. Nothing was completely secure. Everyone had a price or at the very least the possibility of being hacked.
The only person who knew what lurked in the recesses of my mind and memories was the same person who had shared her secrets. We both knew our confidences were safe with one another because if they weren’t, all would be revealed. Lena had been on my mind since our last call. For once, I hadn’t been fully honest. I hadn’t been ready to share Julia, not yet.
Hanging my wool topcoat and my suit jacket on the hall tree in the corner, I shut the door to my private office and walked to the windows. I’d seen the movies and read the books. A man like me stereotypically had floor-to-ceiling windows with an expansive view of a city scape. Tall buildings would have their spires stories below where I stood, making my building the tallest in the skyline.
That wasn’t me.
I didn’t need an ostentatious air to compensate for anything.
A tall building wasn’t necessary to offset a small dick.
A grandiose view was truly in the eye of the beholder.
I had a corner office. I peered beyond the windows from the third story of a hundred-year-old building. In one direction, I saw the view that beckoned me to Ashland, the Chequamegon Bay. From the other windows, I looked out over the small city. There weren’t towers reaching into the sky nor were there buildings branded with my name or the name of others in bright lights.
The quaintness of this area had been my refuge.
A big fish in a little pond, some would say.
That wasn’t true anymore.
My pond was connected to all the other ponds, streams, rivers, lakes, and oceans. Much the way Ashland, Wisconsin, was built on the mining of ore and the ability to transport it through the waterways, today’s world was connected.
It wasn’t through the waterways but via technology.
Recognizing the magnitude of the web propelled my success. It was the foundation that allowed for bigger and better ventures.
Popping a K-cup in the coffee maker, I hit the start button and made my way over to my desk. Gently moving the mouse, my three screens came to life. After entering my password, my first task was to look for Connie’s email. Despite this being her day off, she knew I would be here, following up on the list of issues she’d brought to my attention yesterday, not limited to the messages from Phillip Thomas.
My jaw tightened at the sheer absurdity of his call. It was more than that. Shutting the door on family meant the damn door was closed in both directions. After a fucking decade, if Phillip thought I gave a rat’s ass about his opinion, he had a higher opinion of himself than he deserved.
My attention went to my emails as I clicked one purely out of curiosity at the person who sent it. “Well, let’s see what you have to say, Marlin.”
The coffee maker stopped spitting and spurting, signaling that my coffee was ready. I went for my warm mug and settled back in my leather chair. Focusing on the email, I began to read.
Sherman,
Interesting to learn of your interest in Wade Pharmaceutical. Your recent acquisitions have made you a formidable shareholder. Skylar informed me of your interest in our trials as well as your offer to acquire the shares held by the Butler family.
If you are serious about either or both inquiries, the conversation should not occur in written form. Come to Chicago, look me in the eye.
Until then, nothing will be shared.
M. Butler
Taking a sip of the hot coffee, I scoffed at his false bravado. Marlin Butler knew I had him beat. The most shares he could possibly acquire would be the ten remaining shares held by four or five different entities. That was the most, but he wouldn’t get them. I clicked on an email from Jeremy, Lena’s guru.
Jeremy didn’t disappoint. He had the answer I sought.
The remaining ten shares of Wade Pharmaceutical were owned by three entities. I was certain it was more.