Irresistible Forces (5 page)

“We'd better be. We start in Chicago two weeks from tomorrow.” They had chosen to start the trip there because it was a less important city for them, and would give them a chance to get the kinks out of their presentation. From there, they were going to Minneapolis, and then on to L.A. and San Francisco. He was going to spend the weekend at home, while she flew back to New York. And on the Monday after that, they were going to meet in Boston, make their final presentation in New York, and then on to Europe. She had already set it up for the most part in Edinburgh, Geneva, London, and Paris. And then her job would be over. She hoped that the syndicate they would have formed would have dissolved, and his stock would be sold over the counter on the burgeoning electronics market. His eyes danced like a child's as they talked about it.

And as they chatted over the last of their breakfast, he commented again on the problems he was having with his chief financial officer, Charles McIntosh. He was still dragging his feet about taking the company public, and it was obviously a source of serious annoyance to Callan. Because of his objections to Callan's goals for the company, he was determined to cooperate as little as he could get away with.

“I've had a hell of a time convincing him we're doing the right thing. And I know he believes he's right when he tries to dissuade me. He's a good guy, and I've known him for years. He is incredibly loyal, but he's also unbelievably stubborn,” Cal said, looking worried.

“He'd better get on the bandwagon before we start the road show,” Meredith said with a look of concern. “It's going to worry people if he sounds like a dissenting voice, or looks as though he has reservations about it. People aren't going to understand that his objections are personal, and could misinterpret his position,” she said firmly.

“Don't worry, Meredith, if he does that, it won't be a problem.”

“Why not?” she asked with a look of surprise.

“Because I'll kill him,” Callan Dow said with a rueful laugh. “We've worked together for years, and he's basically a grouch. He's just one of these people who's always heading upstream when everyone else is swimming downstream. He's a hell of a smart guy, but some of his ideas are back in the dark ages.” Callan had such clear visions for his company. But he was younger than Charlie, and incredibly forward thinking.

“I'm not sure he's your greatest asset,” Meredith said, smiling at him. She trusted Callan's judgment, and his ability to handle his people. He hadn't come this far by being a poor judge of horseflesh. And if he said he could control his CFO, she had to trust him on it.

“Actually, Meredith,” he admitted to her as Paul Black signed their check, “I don't disagree with you, but that's another matter. For now at least, he'll be fine. I can't look too far into the future. He's been with me for a long time, and I'm hoping he'll come around on this one.” Meredith nodded, and the three of them left the restaurant and walked out to the parking lot together. Callan had a car and driver waiting for him, to take the three of them to the office. And they chatted easily on the way about his company, his house nearby, and his three children. She had forgotten that he had kids, and was surprised when she heard him talk about them. It was evident from what he said that they lived with him, and she wondered where his wife had gone, if she had died or they were divorced. But it struck her as odd that a man as successful as he in the business world would be single-handedly bringing up his children. He had said that all three of them had been at his house at Lake Tahoe for the summer, and he had just brought them home with him for this business meeting, and they were going back for the weekend. He said he liked to keep them with him.

“I usually take the month of August off to be with them. But this summer, I seem to be commuting.” There had been a lot to do at his end, and from what Meredith could see, so far, he had done all his homework. And she was even more impressed when they got to his office. Everything was impeccably prepared, and all the information she and Paul could possibly have wanted had been analyzed for them. As she had been before, Meredith was enormously impressed with his knowledge of technology, and the way he ran his business.

The only fly in the ointment, as the day went along without a hitch otherwise, was Charles McIntosh. He seemed to have a thousand unfounded objections to everything they were doing. What's more, he was highly suspicious of them, and even less pleased that the IPO was being handled by a woman, although he never actually came right out and said so. But he made it so plain to everyone that when he left the room finally, Callan Dow turned to her and apologized for him.

“I'm afraid Charlie is a dyed-in-the-wool chauvinist, Meredith, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.” Cal actually looked embarrassed and she laughed it off graciously, although more than once he had seriously annoyed her.

“Don't worry, I'm used to it,” she said quietly. “Paul isn't our most liberated partner either.” In fact, the two had gone off together to continue their own conversation in Charlie's office, leaving Callan and Meredith alone to clean up the final details. Traveling with Charlie was going to be a real pain in the neck, she knew, but at least while Callan was around, she knew he wouldn't say anything too inappropriate about the company going public. She could see that he was mildly afraid of alienating Callan. But he certainly was no fun to be with, and could barely bring himself to endorse the project. “You'll have to keep control of him on the road show.”

“Charlie will be all right,” Cal said optimistically. “And the truth is he loves the company, and wants what's good for it, even if he doesn't agree with me. He's extremely loyal, even if he is painfully shortsighted.”

“I'm surprised he let you do it at all.”

“He had no choice,” Callan said firmly, and she could sense in the way he said it that Callan wouldn't have tolerated anything less than Charlie's full support, and the CFO obviously knew that. “But I'm sorry if he's a thorn in your side.”

“I've dealt with worse. I can handle a little chauvinism. He doesn't frighten me. I just don't want him giving people the wrong impression.”

“He won't. I promise.”

The four of them had lunch together in the conference room, and after that, Charlie offered to give Paul a tour, and ignored Meredith completely, which suited her to perfection. She was just as happy spending the rest of the afternoon with Callan, polishing up the risk factors for the red herring. And by the time the two older men returned, Meredith and Callan had done everything they needed, and it was nearly five thirty.

“What time is your flight?” Callan asked her with a look of concern. He hadn't even thought of it till then, they had worked straight through since lunchtime, but they had done everything they wanted to accomplish, and Meredith was extremely pleased with their meeting. There were no remaining unanswered questions. And even Charlie McIntosh seemed to have relaxed a little by the time she and Paul were ready to leave the office. Paul seemed to have won him over.

“We're on the red-eye,” Meredith explained, glancing at her watch. They had several hours to kill, and didn't have to leave for the airport till eight thirty.

“What about an early dinner?” Callan Dow suggested, but Meredith didn't want to impose, or tie up more of his time than she had to.

“We'll be fine,” she assured him. “Paul and I have plenty to talk about. We can have dinner at the hotel, and then leave for the airport.”

“I'd much rather take you to dinner,” he said, graciously including Paul in his invitation. Charlie McIntosh had left them by then, and had been barely civil to Meredith when he said good-bye to her. It was almost as though he were jealous of her, and her influence on Callan. He really did have a problem with her, and Callan seemed to be as aware of it as she was. Charlie blamed her for making it possible to take the company public. He had told Cal repeatedly that once they had stockholders, Cal would lose control of the company, and he saw that as a potential disaster for them. He overlooked entirely the enormous influx of money and opportunities that selling stock would bring them. And more than anything, Charlie saw Meredith as the source of all their potential future problems. And he was unrelentingly angry at her for it. He had long since chosen to forget that it was not Meredith's idea to take Dow Tech public, but Callan's.

“Do you like Chinese food?” Cal asked Meredith directly, and she nodded, still hesitating, but while she was trying to decline gracefully, Paul happily accepted, and the three of them left the office together to have dinner.

And as it turned out, it was a very pleasant evening. After working together since early that morning, the three of them felt completely at ease with each other. And even Paul relaxed and seemed less condescending than usual. And he told some very funny stories about old road shows. By the time Callan dropped them off at the hotel, the three of them felt like old friends, and Paul and Meredith were sorry to leave him.

“I'll see you in two weeks,” Callan said with a broad grin as he shook her hand in the lobby before he left them.

“Call if you have any questions,” she encouraged him, “or if you're worried about something.”

“I'm probably too ignorant about all this to even know what to worry about.” He laughed good-naturedly, and like Meredith, he looked as impeccable at eight o'clock that night as he had at seven thirty in the morning. They had that same kind of effortless style and impeccable neatness in common. With their blond hair and light eyes, and similar style, they looked almost like brother and sister. And he waved easily as he left them, and strode across the lobby to the car waiting for him outside. He had promised to send the car back in a few minutes to take them to the airport. He was going back to the office to pick up his Ferrari. Meredith had noticed it in the parking lot at Dow Tech that morning and wondered who it belonged to. It was bright red and convertible, and very striking.

“He's a nice guy,” Paul Black said, sounding almost surprised as they went back up to their rooms to pick up their luggage. “You'll have a good time with him on the road show. He's got a great sense of humor.”

“Yes, he does,” she agreed easily, “and he knows what he's doing, which is refreshing. And he's not afraid to admit it when he doesn't.” Although she suspected he probably had a big ego in some ways, humility at the appropriate times was one of his strong suits, and it was more than a little unusual in his business.

“I think you'll do just fine with this, Meredith,” Paul said, and they left each other to pick their bags up in their rooms and met in the lobby again half an hour later. She had called Steve, but he was unavailable as usual, and she left a message on his voice mail. And half an hour later, she and Paul were on their way to the airport.

The plane left on schedule, and she worked for a while, while Paul fell asleep beside her. And eventually, she turned off the light, put her papers away, and closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew they were landing at Kennedy and it was six o'clock in the morning. And just as Steven had predicted, she took a cab home, showered, and changed, and by eight thirty, she was at her desk, in her office, writing up notes from her meeting with Callan Dow, and working with the lawyers to put the finishing touches on the prospectus.

Steve called her at the office at noon, between surgeries, and he was pleased to know that she had returned safely.

“I like knowing you're back in town,” he said with a relieved tone. “When I know you're that far away, I really miss you,” but she couldn't help wondering what difference it really made, since they couldn't see each other anyway. Sometimes it felt as though she and Steve existed on different planets. His world seemed so far from hers and when she thought about it, it made her feel lonely. But she couldn't think about that now. She had too much to do, taking Dow Tech public. She talked to Callan Dow later that afternoon, and he was ecstatic about their meeting the day before. He was flying high on the thrill of what they all knew was coming.

“It won't be long now,” she encouraged him, feeling like a mother hen waiting for a chick to hatch. But the truth was that her clients and their companies were the children she had never had. They were her babies, and the only ones she wanted for the moment. She would never have said it to Steve, but she suspected that she didn't have to. He knew that, just as he knew everything about her.

And as she sat at her desk late that night, finishing her work on Dow Tech, she glanced out the window into the New York night, and thought about her husband. He was in the trauma unit somewhere, saving a life, or comforting a child, or reassuring a mother. It seemed like such noble work to her. And yet, for her in her heart of hearts, she still thought that what she did was more exciting. She loved everything about it. She thought of calling him then, but she knew she probably wouldn't get him anyway, so she didn't bother. She stayed at her desk until two
A.M.
, and then with a satisfied smile, she left her office, locked her door, and went downstairs to hail a cab, carrying her briefcase. This was the only life she knew, everything she loved, and all that she wanted.

Chapter 4

I
N THE NEXT
two weeks, Steve and Meredith hardly saw each other. She was at her office until nearly midnight every night, working with her partners to set up the syndicate of other investment banking firms to underwrite the offering of Dow Tech to the public. A syndicate of nearly thirty investment banking firms was going to underwrite it. She spent hours talking to the analysts in her firm to make sure that they would support the stock in the beginning. And she spent an equal amount of time talking to the salesmen in her firm, to confirm that they were lining up the key institutions in the cities they'd be traveling to, and that they sent their people to see the road show. There were insurance companies, large universities, anyone with large funds to invest had to be made aware that they were coming. And of course she met with the firm's lawyers constantly to prepare everything for the SEC, to make sure that all their questions about Dow Tech were getting answered. In addition, she was thinking about the final number of shares to be sold, and the final price, although there were going to be ballpark figures in the prospectus, which was now well over a hundred pages. It was an unbelievable amount of work that required her constant attention, and she felt as though she were leaving halfway through the day when she went home every night after midnight.

Callan Dow was immensely impressed by what he heard whenever he spoke to her, and particularly so with the way she had turned the risk factor section of the prospectus into an almost positive treatise on the company's behalf, an art form she had carefully developed. In fact, he was delighted with everything she did, and couldn't believe his good fortune in working with her.

A week before the road show was to begin, the lawyers they used sent the final prospectus to the SEC for approval, and Callan was understandably nervous about it, but once again Meredith reassured him. She told him it was one of the best IPOs she'd ever worked on, and he didn't need to worry about it.

By the end of the last week, all the loose ends had been tied up, and she felt confident that they had thought of everything. The syndicate was set up, the analysts were pleased, the salesmen were as excited about Dow Tech as she and Callan were, and even the SEC wasn't giving them any trouble. The only thing she was worried about by the end of the week before the Labor Day weekend, was how little time she had spent with Steven, and she could tell from her phone calls with him that he was upset about it. But there was very little she could have done about it in the last two weeks. She had too many important details to attend to, to spend time with her husband.

“I feel like I'm married to an imaginary friend,” he complained on Thursday night when he called her from work. She was still in the office at one
A.M.
, and mercifully he had just come out of surgery himself and wasn't due to get off duty until noon on Friday. He had been at the hospital on and off since Tuesday morning. And he'd been called in four times for emergencies when he was on call over the weekend, so he couldn't complain too much that she was busy.

“I'm sorry,” she said, sounding tired but pleased. She was thrilled that everything had gone so smoothly. It had been an unusually good deal for the firm, and one of the rare ones where no unexpected dragons reared their heads with surprise disasters at the last minute. “It'sjust been crazy for the past two weeks, but it's been worth it. I don't think we've ever been as well prepared for an offering as we have this time.” She felt good not only about the validity of the company, but about the quality of its products. Even Steven had told her that the instruments they made were exceptionally good ones. Meredith had talked to him about it right from the beginning, and he had reassured her on that subject.

“If you have to work this weekend, Merrie, I'm going to kill you.” And for once, he sounded as though he meant it.

“I swear I'm going to try to wrap up everything by noon tomorrow, and I'm all yours till Monday.” She had promised herself and him that she would keep the Labor Day weekend sacred for him. He deserved it. “You're not on call, are you, sweetheart?”

“No way. I don't care if half of New York bleeds to death or if a volcano erupts in Central Park, I'm off call, and I'm throwing my goddamn pager in the garbage can at noon tomorrow. I intend to spend the weekend in bed with you, if I have to handcuff you to the headboard.”

“That sounds pretty kinky,” she giggled as she listened to him, but she could hear that he was tired too. And when he finally came home at noon the next day, she was already there waiting for him. It was another one of those steamy humid days that everyone in New York expected at the end of August, and she was wandering around their living room in her underwear when he walked in, in wrinkled scrubs and a two-day-old beard he hadn't had time to attend to. It had been a hellish week for him, but as promised, he had walked out of the unit at noon, and when he saw his wife, he grinned, and tossed his pager on the kitchen counter.

“If that thing goes off in the next three days, I'm going to kill someone,” he said as he helped himself to a beer and sprawled across the couch with a look of admiration at his wife's white satin bra and panties. “I hope this isn't a preview of what you're wearing on the road show. You might sell a lot of stock, but you could cause a riot.”

She leaned over and kissed him, and he ran a practiced hand up her silky thigh, and then took another sip of the icy beer before setting it down on the coffee table. “God, I'm tired,” he admitted. “Half of New York must have shot each other this week, and the other half fell on their asses and broke something. If I see another damaged body, I think I'm going to have a psychotic break.” He smiled at her then, beginning to unwind from the pressures of three days straight at the trauma unit. “It's good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if we were still married. It's like being married to a flight attendant, every time I'm here you're not, and when you're home, I'm working. It gets a little old sometimes, doesn't it?”

“It does, but I just couldn't help it for the past two weeks. When I get back, everything will calm down again. I promise.”

“Yeah, for about two minutes,” he said, looking uncharacteristically weary, but he'd had roughly a total of six hours’ sleep in the past seventy-two hours. She wondered how he did it. At least she got to come home at night, and get some rest, before rushing back to the office again the next morning. “I hope you don't have another IPO for at least another six months,” he said, and she smiled.

“I'm not sure my partners would be too thrilled with that,” she said, taking a sip of his beer and sitting down next to him on the couch. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, it was still warm in the apartment. It had been over a hundred degrees all week, and still in the nineties at midnight, and several times that week they'd had a brownout in her office, but she and her associates worked right through it. Only the hospitals were unaffected by it, as they had their own generators and couldn't afford to lose power, in the midst of surgeries, and with all their essential life-preserving equipment.

“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asked, looking at her lovingly, and running a hand gently over her pale blond hair. He was dead tired, but he couldn't help noticing that she looked sexy and pretty. She never looked like an investment banker to him, just a very beautiful woman. Her professional expertise was purely coincidental, and about as unimportant to Steven as her income. He was proud of her, but he had never cared about how much money she made. When he married her, when she was in business school at Columbia, she had been on a full scholarship, and didn't have a penny. And all the good fortune, and rich rewards that had come her way since seemed nice to him, but he wouldn't have cared if they'd been starving and living in a studio apartment somewhere on the Upper West Side, which they would have been, if they had been living on his wages. But the financial disparity between them had never been an issue to either of them. She made a huge salary, and had made some excellent investments over the years, but he regarded it as a bonus for them, and in truth, it was of no real importance to him.

“I'd love to go to a baseball game,” she admitted with a grin. She was an avid baseball fan, when she had time, and so was he, but for once he was less than enthusiastic about the suggestion.

“In this heat? I love you, but I think you're crazy. How about a movie … after I spend the next twenty-four hours in bed with you. First things first, Mrs. Whitman.” He smiled at her lasciviously and she laughed. He had a healthy appetite for her, even when he was dead tired. It was rare for him to be too worn out to have sex with her, except when he'd had a particularly depressing day at work and lost a patient. Only she knew how much he suffered when he lost them, particularly children.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting my packing out of the way this afternoon, so I won't have to bother with it all weekend. Why don't you relax, clean up, have a nap, and by the time you wake up, I'll be all finished.”

“That's not a bad idea. I'm beat … but I'll only agree if you swear you won't sneak back to the office while I'm sleeping.”

“I swear. They don't expect to see me for a full two weeks,
and
I just want to remind you that I'm coming home to be with you next weekend, after we finish San Francisco. Callan is going to spend the weekend with his kids, and I'm taking the red-eye on Friday night. I'll be home at six o'clock Saturday morning, and I'm here till we leave for Boston on Sunday.”

“That's something at least. I guess I should be grateful for small favors.”

“You know, you could meet me in London the following weekend, or Paris, when I finish the road show.”

He looked momentarily intrigued as he thought about it and calculated briefly. “What weekend is that? Two weeks from now?” She nodded in answer. “Shit, I'm on call. Lucas has to be in Dallas for a meeting, and I'm in charge that weekend.”

“Don't worry about it, I'll come home. We can go to Paris some other time.” She leaned down to kiss him, and then wandered off to their bedroom to do her packing. And Steve headed for the bathroom and stood in the shower for nearly half an hour, to wash away the smell and the exhaustion and the sorrows of the trauma unit. And after that, he lay on their bed, relaxed and naked, and watched her moving quietly around the room to pack her bags, and within five minutes he was sound asleep, looking like the handsome man he was, as she stopped once or twice to smile, and watch him sleeping. As challenging as their lives and schedules were at times, they were still very much in love with each other, and she didn't overlook the fact that part of why their relationship worked so well was because he was so understanding and so patient. She knew that a lot of other men would have felt threatened by the demands her work put on her. But Steve never did, he was happy that she enjoyed what she did, and fulfilled by his own work. It was the perfect combination.

Meredith zipped her last bag shut just after four o'clock, and then sat down to read a magazine and relax, something she did too little of, but she had finished all her work, and even the endlessly revised red herring was complete now. Her briefcase sat next to her packed bags, and she had nothing to do for the next two and a half days except enjoy her husband. He was still sound asleep on their bed, and snoring softly when she heard an odd buzzing sound from the living room, and when she walked into the room to see what it was, she realized that it was his pager. She looked at it suspiciously for a long moment, like an animal that might attack if she got too close to it, but she also felt guilty on his behalf ignoring it. They knew he was off call and if they were paging him, she suspected it had to be important, maybe someone in dire straits needed an expertise that only Steve could offer. She walked slowly to where the pager lay, still on the kitchen counter, and glanced at the display. A flashing red light was going off on it, and the numbers 911 were repeated all across the screen. Whatever it was, there was no question that it was urgent. She picked it up, and stared at it, and then knew what she had to do. She was still holding it in her hand, when she walked softly back into their bedroom and ever so gently touched his shoulder. He stirred after only an instant, and smiled in his half sleep, and then reached out to find her breast with his hand. He was more than ready to make good on the promises he had made earlier, but with a frown, he heard the buzzing of his pager. He opened his eyes to look at her, and without a word, she handed it to him, and he saw the same numbers she had.

“Tell me I'm having a nightmare,” he said, rolling over, and taking it from her. “Lucas is there this weekend, they don't need me.” He groaned as he said it.

“Maybe you should call them,” she said softly, sitting on the bed next to him. “Maybe he wants to consult with you about something important.” He and Steve worked together very closely and had enormous respect and admiration for each other.

Steve sighed deeply as he sat up, and reached for the phone next to the bed, with an unhappy expression. “This better be good,” he said, as he punched in the numbers and waited. As always, in his opinion, they took a little too long to answer, but they were understaffed and always busy. “Dr. Whitman here,” he said tersely when they did. “I just got a 911 on my pager, with red lights. Tell me it was a mistake, Barbie,” he said, recognizing the voice on the other end, and then for a long time he listened, and Meredith couldn't assess what he was hearing. His face looked blank for a long moment, and then he squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit. How many? And how many did we get?” He groaned audibly when she responded. “Where are you putting them? The garage? … are they crazy? What are we supposed to do with a hundred and eighty-seven criticals? It sounds like Gettysburg, for chrissake…. all right, all right…. I'll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up the phone and looked at his wife mournfully. They had not only blown his night all to hell, but his weekend, and possibly his entire week. “You'd better turn on the news. Some fucking crazies tried to blow up the Empire State Building at four o'clock, just in time to get everyone still in their offices, and all the tourists. Nearly a hundred people were killed, over a thousand injured. They're sending us somewhere between two and three hundred critically injured people. They're splitting up the rest of the minor injuries between hospitals all over the city. I have seventy-five trauma beds available, and over a hundred people in the halls now, with paramedics, and another hundred coming in, in the next hour. They're calling in medical personnel from Long Island and New Jersey. There goes our weekend. I'm sorry, baby.”