53.
Jamie
When she heard a knock at the office door a few minutes later, Jamie thought for sure that it was Clarice coming back for another round, or perhaps to settle some other bit of routine business. “Come in,” she said, her voice muted, their last conversation still pressing on her as she brooded in the office, the sun’s rays cast long across her floor as the yellow disc slid lower in the sky.
The door opened, and to her surprise, there stood Jacob Penny, his eyes less lively than when she’d seen him before. Yesterday he’d seemed exuberant; today he seemed almost morose.
“Uh, hi,” Jamie said, coming to her feet and slamming her knee against her desk. The whole thing rattled and moved back a few inches, and a wracking pain radiated from her kneecap and almost dropped to her chair again. “Oww,” she said as she took the weight off that leg, standing there with one eye squinted shut, the other open to look at her visitor. “Hello,” she forced out.
“Are you all right?” Penny asked, easing into the room. He had his leather briefcase in hand, holding it before him like it was a shield to protect him from a well-placed kick. He bumped the door shut behind him with his backside and stood there, not coming any closer to the desk, a statue that was turning back and forth slowly with nervous energy. His shirt’s top button was still undone.
“Fine,” Jamie said, the pain starting to fade slightly as her surprise at seeing him increased. “What … brings you by today, Mr. Penny? I didn’t think we had an appointment—”
“We didn’t,” Penny said, clearing his throat nervously as he avoided her eyes. “I was just dropping in to—did you go to the gym today?” He asked, and when she shook her head, looking curiously at him, he pointed to her head. “I just—your hair. Looked like you might have worked out.”
Jamie stood there, stricken, and raised a hand to run it through her hair. It was tangled, a mess, probably from the time she spent in the water. Clarice couldn’t have mentioned that while she was running me through the ringer for everything else? She pulled her hand out of her hair; it was a lost cause that could only be solved by a shower and starting over, and besides, it was bringing out the briny smell when she touched it. Her fingers passed under her nose and she almost gagged at the resurgence of the stink, which she had faded from her notice until now. “I, uhm—racquetball game,” she said, trying to find some cover.
“Ah,” Penny nodded. “I, ah … wanted to stop by in person because the underwriters for your loan called me this afternoon.” He looked to be in exquisite discomfort. “They told me … the bank is going to have to decline your application for an extension as well as the additional credit.”
Jamie felt like falling back, just dropping into her chair in hopes that it was there. “Decline?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, still holding his briefcase handle with both hands. “They wouldn’t tell me what the criteria were for the declination, which is—really weird, actually.” He stared off into space for a moment, then looked contrite and cast his gaze downward. “But that doesn’t matter to you, of course. I’m so sorry. I was … I was looking forward to working with you and Barton Designs on this.”
“I …” Jamie stood there, stunned, as though someone had just taken a pickaxe and driven it between her eyes. “But … I thought … things were looking good?”
“I thought so, too,” Penny said, shaking his head. “I mean, we’ve made loans to companies in worse straits with less capital on hand, more credit risk … I mean … I don’t know. I guess this is what the underwriters get paid for, though, and I don’t understand their problem, especially given the collateral here in your—”
Jamie lost focus on what he was saying, the old her, the tireless CEO, stepping out from the back of her mind, her own voice droning in her ear. We don’t have enough capital to fill outstanding orders. We don’t have enough inventory on hand to fill even a quarter of our orders. Our biggest accounts are still ninety days from paying in full on some of their current …
Oh … oh … no …
Clarice was right.
I stopped paying attention and look what happened.
“Are you all right?” Penny asked, and Jamie came back to herself, dry mouth and all.
“I’m … yes, I’ll be fine,” she lied, and she sat back down in her chair, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “Thank you for … coming and telling me in person.” Her voice sounded quiet inside her own head, muffled as though she had a cold. She certainly felt sick, though it was more of a twist in the stomach from the uncertainty of what would happen next—or perhaps the certainty of knowing that they were almost assuredly finished. And in one stroke, no less.
“It was the least I could do,” Penny said, and then he looked as though he might want to say something else, but he blushed, and opened the door instead. “I was looking forward to working with you.” And he eased himself out as Jamie sat there, watching him go at first, and then, after the door clicked closed, staring at the piles of invoices and paperwork and compliance filings and tax documents … realizing that not one of them meant a damn thing now.
Barton Designs was done.