A meeting was held in the late afternoon on a Tuesday in a contemporary building in downtown Manhattan. Present were Blair, Andrew Sciascia, and Ms. Applegate, a prim and proper forty-something, representing the firm of Rollins and Dunn.
Though resigned to his fate, Blair was disappointed that it had come to this. As a show of his displeasure, he had forsaken a tie. Although he was still dressed in a suit, black in color and his least favorite.
The boardroom was spacious with floor to ceiling windows. The mahogany table could accommodate at least twelve or more. Floral planters sat at either end. A pitcher of water and a half dozen glasses were positioned in the center. A number of eight-by-ten, framed testimonials to the company’s success were hanging on the near wall.
Observing Ms. Applegate as she went through her presentation, Blair found it curious that someone of such refined features, short red hair, delicate cheekbones, could be cursed with such a high-pitched voice.
He didn’t want to be here, but he waited patiently as she pointed out that the firm of Rollins and Dunn had a proven track record. That unlike their competitors, they specialized only in the toy and sporting good industries. That for a mere fifteen percent off the top they would handle all aspects of the sale of Blair’s company, save for due diligence and other legal requirements.
“What about my request for strict confidentiality?” Blair asked.
“That goes without saying, Mr. Mulligan.”
“And no approach to companies such as Spin Master, MGA, or JAKKS Pacific?”
“Duly noted.” Ms. Applegate attempted a smile.
Blair stood. “What happens if word leaks out?” he asked.
“It won’t.”
“But what if it does? Do you realize how disruptive that would be? The affect it would have on my staff? The impact on my company’s reputation?”
Ms. Applegate stood as well. “Mr. Mulligan, I can assure you that in the forty-some-odd years we have been in business, there has never been one leak, ever.”
Blair held his ground. “But if there is a leak, are you ready to confirm in writing that you will offer us compensation?”
The question stopped her cold.
Andrew led the way into the elevator, down and out of the building, to a corner pub. He ordered a beer for each of them. “What’s gotten into you?” he said. “I’ve never seen you so antagonistic.”
Blair could only shrug.
“You didn’t want to have this meeting. Did you?”
“Not really.”
“So why’d you do it?”
“To be prepared. My business sucks. I doubt I can keep it afloat much longer. I … feel sorry for my employees. What can I possibly tell them?”
“Tell them nothing for now. Once your life returns to normal, you’ll find a way to salvage your business.”
“If it returns to normal.”
“It will! Christ, you can’t continue to wallow in self-doubt.”
Blair had the beer bottle to his lips. He stopped himself from taking a sip, wondering if he was really that transparent. “I’m just being realistic,” he said.
“Yeah. Realistic, my ass.”
“Andy—”
“Blair, you have to be strong. For Sandra’s sake, if not your own. You’re a good person, dammit, with a lot of admirable qualities.”
The comment unnerved him. Recently, his belief in himself had been greatly diminished.
“Cheers,” Andrew said.
They clicked bottles.
“I meant to ask you if my will is still in order,” Blair said as if he had just thought of the question this minute.
Andrew’s concern showed. “Where are you going with this, bud?”
“I just want to know.”
“Everything is fine. But why the sudden interest?”
“No special reason.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet. Well, you can rest easy. The bulk of your estate goes to your daughter. If she should predecease you, your sister inherits it all.”
“Okay,” Blair said. “That’s all I needed to hear.”