The War Room

 

In the dim, indirect lighting of the small conference room, Griff found a shadow where he sat and sipped coffee from a massive, dark mug with Stein, Baylor & Stein gilded on the side, patiently waiting for Lance Baylor to come back with his check.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Yeah?”

The door opened and Roger Wilkinson stuck his head in. “Mr. Crowe?”

“Hi, Roger.”

“I just wanted to thank you personally for…you know, Wes.”

Griff looked Wilkinson in the eye. “I’m sorry for what happened to him. Please know, what you did for us was a big help.”

Wilkinson nodded his head, then closed the door, again.

Griff sipped his coffee. He closed his eyes.

The door opened and shut quietly.

Griff opened his eyes and smiled. “Hi, Hannah.”

She sat down next to Griff, setting a pie box down on the table. She took Griff’s hand, then slowly slid the box in front of him.

“For me?”

Hannah nodded and squeezed Griff’s hand.

“This isn’t store-bought, is it?”

“No, silly. But it is a new recipe.” Hannah smiled coyly. “Derby pie.”

Griff hung his head low in defeat and pinched his eyes shut.

The door opened. Lance came in and stood at the head of the conference table.

“Don’t be a stranger now, Griff. Ya hear?” Hannah petted the top of his hand, then got up and left.

“Ooooo, pie,” Lance oozed.

“Don’t. Do not go there,” Griff said.

Lance sat down. He slid a check over in front of Griff.

“So, case closed?” Griff asked.

“Yeah, and, you know, everybody seems happy. Which is odd.”

“Except the bad guys, of course.”

“Of course. But nobody else is complaining. It’s like Halley’s Comet. Once a century it happens.”

“I heard you made out pretty well with Hornet Investment Group,” Griff said.

“We…we made out.”

“What are you talking about?” Griff asked.

“Well, me and Johnny and Cap all pitched in a point for you off our shares. So, you’re going home with a nice little seven figure bonus.”

Griff’s face assumed a shocked look.

“And, who knows, maybe you’ll run into the Nickolson kids again at a shareholder’s meeting—God, I love my job.”

 

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