Chapter 17: Katie

The trip from my apartment in Manhattan to Conner’s house in the Hamptons on Long Island took about three hours, which was an hour longer than it should have taken.

The traffic wasn’t the issue, as it would have been in the summer. It was February and freezing outside. Nobody in their right mind was heading to the Hamptons for a long weekend. The streets in the town would be deserted, as would the beaches, until the middle of spring.

The trip took so long because of the old clunker Conner decided to pick me up in. The darn thing would barely do the speed limit. He said it was a classic Ford something or other that once belonged to his dad. I just thought it was a piece of crap, although it did have a great heater, thank the Lord.

If he was trying to impress me by downplaying his wealth, he missed the mark. I would have much preferred to travel in the back of a nice, comfy limousine. However, if he was trying to impress me with the sentimentality he held for his folks, he more than succeeded. It was nice to see that there was more to Conner McGee than the man I’d read about on Google. He was what my brothers would call a ‘rich, pussy hound’, but he seemed like a nice guy underneath. Of course, the pussy he was hounding for was mine, so I was probably more than a little biased.

After an hour and a half, we whipped through a McDonald’s drive through for some breakfast; an Egg McMuffin and Diet Coke for me, a McGriddle and large coffee for him. He swore to me that he had not had fast food in years, and had never set foot in a McDonald’s. His condescension quickly disappeared when he got a whiff of the strong coffee and a bite of the syrupy McGriddle. The way he devoured the McGriddle made me smile; like a little kid who had discovered a new form of candy.

We made it to his house on the north end of the island just before noon. I’m not sure what I was expecting, a sprawling mansion, I suppose, but it turned out that his place was a quaint Plantation style house off the main road with a wrap-around porch and its own private beach. Conner said the house was only 6,000 square feet—only, he said—with seven bedrooms and seven baths, a gourmet kitchen, a media room, a gym, a sauna, and a large that looked over the ocean. The nearest house was a hundred yards away.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I climbed out of the truck and looked around. “Have you owned it long?”

“Only about a year,” he said as he pulled my overnight case and his duffel from the back of the truck. “It was in pretty bad shape when I bought it. I’ve been renovating it for about six months now.”

“You’ve been renovating it?” I looked him up and down with a snarky smile. “You do not look like you’d know which end of a hammer to hold.”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Fine, I’ve been paying to have it renovated,” he said. “I’m not the handiest man in town.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “At least not when it comes to house remodeling.” He nodded toward the wide steps that led up to the front porch. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Conner dropped our bags in the master bedroom, then gave me the grand tour. About half of the place had been redone. It was modestly decorated, with overstuffed furniture, masculine colors, and a TV hanging over the fireplace that wouldn’t have fit through my apartment’s front door. The rest of the house was covered in tarps and dust, paint cans and tools everywhere, with plastic hanging over the doors to keep the construction mess contained.

He led me out onto the back deck that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. It was a crisp day, with a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean, but the early afternoon sun was warm on my cheeks. I lifted my face toward the sky and closed my eyes.

“Why does the sun always feel warmer when you’re out of the city?” I asked. I inhaled deeply. “And the air so much fresher.”

“Because there are no big, obnoxious buildings to block the sun,” he said, standing next to me at the railing with his arm touching mine. “And no cars and buses and taxis billowing obnoxious exhaust.”

“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?”