Читать книгу The Company You Keep - Tracy Kelleher, Tracy Kelleher - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

“HEY!” JOE JUMPED to his feet. “What the hell just happened?”

Vic rubbed his forehead, then held up his hand. “Not to worry.” He hit redial.

Conrad picked up immediately.

“It seems we were cut off. My apologies.”

Conrad didn’t bother with any more preliminary chitchat. “You may know that my firm is considering opening another office in the Antipodes.”

Vic rolled his eyes at the pretentious language. “Yes, I believe my brother, Joe, to whom you talked briefly, mentioned something about it.” He nodded to Joe, who raised his chin.

“Yes, well…I know our design and construction team are in the process of sending out for bids.”

“That’s good to know. GSI has handled several projects in Australia and New Zealand, and we’ve had very positive reviews.”

“I’ll pass that information along. But that’s not entirely why I called.”

Why wasn’t Vic surprised? When did a CEO get involved with building projects besides signing off on the design and then cutting the ribbon at the end?

“As I explained in my emails, I’m on the organizing committee for Reunions coming up this June.”

“Congratulations, but I must confess I haven’t attended Reunions since my senior year when I served on a panel discussion,” Vic said. It was an experience he’d managed to put far, far away.

“Yes, that was a memorable occasion.”

“Your daughter, I believe, made it particularly memorable.” Vic tried to keep his tone even.

“Yes, Mimi is definitely opinionated, but I’ve never seen her so…shall we say…demonstrative?”

She may have been “demonstrative,” but somehow it had been Vic who had been hauled off to the police station. Mimi had merely waved goodbye wrapped in a towel provided by the cops. “I guess that’s what you could call it.” His tone wasn’t quite so even.

“Yes, well, the past is something we can’t change, even if we’d like to.”

That surprised Vic. Conrad didn’t strike him as someone who was particularly introspective, let alone regretful. He wondered if Mimi’s father was referring to something in particular.

He didn’t know much about the family except what he’d heard as an undergraduate. You couldn’t live in Grantham without realizing that the Lodges were very Very Important People. And as for Mimi, she’d run with a different crowd—the preppy jocks who knew all about lacrosse, and what brand of gin was best for martinis.

He knew she had become a hotshot war correspondent on the nightly news—her dream fulfilled, if he remembered correctly—who’d been kidnapped while on assignment in some ex-Soviet region and finally released. He wondered if the family had maneuvered that one the way they used to have the Grantham police in the palm of their hands. They obviously had connections everywhere. Whatever, he really didn’t care. If a family member of his had been kidnapped, he would have used every possible means to free them also.

“On the other hand,” Conrad went on, “perhaps what I am proposing is a way to redress past wrongs. You see, as it turns out, I am the chair of panel discussions for the Reunions in June.”

“Tell me you’re not proposing what I think you’re proposing?”

“I think the possibility to revisit problems of equality in college sports is as timely now as ever. And since all the panelists have agreed to participate again, it will be interesting to see if any of their perspectives have changed.”

“All the panelists?” Forget the others. Vic was only interested in one.

Lodge cleared his throat. “Yes, though, it is true that my daughter agreed to participate only if you served on the panel, as well.”

Vic tipped his chair back again. “She did? I’m surprised she even remembered me.”

“Interesting, she said the same thing about you.” Lodge didn’t elaborate. “In any case, I think the audience would be fascinated by your perspective as a former professional athlete. And no doubt more than a few of them will recall your courage all those years ago to take what might have been considered a refreshingly candid, though politically incorrect stance.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re itching for a replay. Is your daughter still so easily riled?”

“That remains to be seen. Even if there are no fireworks, the anticipation that something might happen would be worth the price of admission alone, don’t you think?”

Vic didn’t know what to think. He glanced down at Roxie, who sighed a dog sigh. He hadn’t wanted to wait until after the weekend, and the vet’s office closed early on Fridays, so he’d had no choice but to collect her first thing in the morning. Now, he just wanted to get her home and comfortable. And wait for the prognosis.

Yet the businessman in him also wouldn’t let go. Besides, the economy in Australia might be booming, but big commercial jobs in general were still few and far between. “At the same time you’d keep GSI in mind in regards to the construction of your Australian offices?” he asked.

“As two seasoned men of the world, I think we both understand the certain quid pro quo that is a part of doing business,” Conrad replied. “You have my word that we will view your company’s participation in a very favorable light.”

Mimi Lodge. Just the thought of her was like a craw in his side—an irritating feeling that just wouldn’t go away. Like nothing and no one else he’d ever come in contact with. What was it Machiavelli had said? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?

Well, Mimi Lodge wasn’t so much an enemy as a troublemaker with a capital “T.” All the Lodges were, he reminded himself, even the man on the other end of the phone line.

But Mimi Lodge was also the only woman who had ever aroused his passions so fully, so surprisingly. She’d blindsided him, that’s what she’d done.

And now he wondered what would happen if they met again.

“So do I have your agreement, then?” Conrad prodded him. “It would mean a great deal to me.”

If Lodge were at all the type of person to be sincere, Vic would have assumed that the older man genuinely meant it. He watched as Roxie licked the top of a front paw, sure evidence that she was in pain. Nope, he couldn’t hang around the office any longer. “Just send me the details, and I’ll be there,” he said decisively.

They exchanged a few more cursory comments, Vic wrote down the information, and then the call ended. He swiveled around and faced Joe.

“So, did we get it?” Joe sprung from the couch.

Vic ripped off a sheet of paper and rose. He circled his desk and handed it to Joe. Then he stepped over to the coat rack and shrugged on his blazer. The action rekindled memories of the exact opposite where Mimi Lodge was concerned.

Joe frowned at the paper. “If I can navigate your handwriting, this is a contact at Pilgrim?”

Vic reached for the top button of his jacket, then decided to leave it open. Easier for driving. “It’s the person you can contact in regards to our bid for their new building.”

Joe whistled. “So how did you do it? I gather there’s a Grantham connection?”

“Yes, it seems that my agreement to serve on an alumni panel at Reunions this coming June sealed the deal—or at least the bid.” He reached for his winter jacket and turned back to his brother.

Joe looked incredulous. “Wait a minute. That hothead? The one who dumped water on you your senior year? Wasn’t her name Lodge, too?”

Vic pulled out Roxie’s lead from the pocket of his coat. “Mimi Lodge. His daughter. Conrad seemed particularly interested that we recreate our little tango.”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t get it. It sounds suspiciously like the old man is pimping for his daughter. Which is pretty creepy, even for someone like me.”

“I don’t think your sensibilities had anything to do with the offer, and I’m not convinced it really has anything to do with me, either.” Vic walked over to Roxie and kneeled down to hook the lead to her collar. Then he stood up and Roxie awkwardly followed suit. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the motivating factor was guilt.” The question is whose? Vic silently ruminated.