Michael Ridpath: Final Venture

Frank's suspicions of Diane hadn't helped. To his fear of losing his daughter, and his jealousy of the time I spent with her, was now added concern that she might be mistreated by a philandering husband.

I might understand all this. But I didn't like it. Especially when it messed up my work. I needed to talk to him.

He was in his office. All the partners had their own, expensively kitted out with the mixture of high-technology and old furniture that Gil believed gave the impression of a leading venture-capital firm with money: sleek computers, old prints, discreet VCRs, leather chairs, conference phones, dark wood tables.

He was on the phone, and he waved me to a chair in front of his desk.

I waited. He continued talking, avoiding my eye. He moved his arms for emphasis as he spoke. The shrugs, the hand movements, the expressions were the only signs of his Jewish ancestry, and the only resemblance to Lisa I recognized in him. He looked the archetypal White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, while she took after her mother, with her dark hair and eyes and her sharp features. His father, a prosperous Boston doctor, had been born Koch and changed his name to Cook in a mostly successful effort to blend into the community around him.

At work, we had always treated each other as colleagues, or at any rate partner and associate.

Until now.

He eventually finished his phone call, and turned to me.

'I'd like to talk about this morning,' I began.

'There's nothing to say. We said it all at the meeting.'

'I don't think so. There's more to it than that.'

'You were wrong. You made a mistake. You'll learn.'

'I know you saw me having dinner with Diane.'

He leaned forward. 'Simon, understand this. Your marriage to my daughter has no bearing on how I treat you at work, and I resent the implication that it does.'

'What else am I supposed to think? We did that deal together. Nothing's changed, Craig's doing brilliantly, all the milestones we set have been met.'

'I disagree, Simon. As I said this morning, I think plenty has changed. And I'm beginning to have my doubts about Craig. All I was doing was preventing the firm from making a bad investment. It was a judgement call. I made the right one, you made the wrong one. Now, I don't want to have any more of this conversation.'

'Oh, come on,' I said. 'You might have disagreed with me, but there was no need to humiliate me-'

'I said, I don't want to have this conversation.' He looked down to the papers on his desk.

I knew there was more I should say, more that had to be said. But Frank didn't want to hear it.

'You may not want to talk about it now, but this is something we'll have to sort out some time,' I said as I left the room.

I swore under my breath as I made my way back to my desk. Diane passed me in the corridor.

'Cheer up,' she said.

'Why? I've just screwed everything up here.'

'No, you haven't. Here, come into my office.'

I followed her through a door a couple of paces further down the corridor. She closed it behind me. Her office was smaller than Frank's, and tidier. Cool, crisp and modern.

I slumped heavily into an armchair and put my face in my hands. She sat on the sofa opposite me, relaxed, an encouraging half-smile on her lips. Through my fingers I could glimpse her long legs, resting against the side of the sofa. Lisa was right. She was undeniably attractive.

'Everyone has a really bad day sometime in every firm,' she said. 'You have to live with it. It's like a rite of passage. You've had your good deal with PC Homelease. Now you've got your bad one. They'll all be watching how you handle it, you know. If you bounce back, they'll think the better of you.'

'We'll see,' I said. 'Thank you for your support in there, by the way.'

'I thought you made the right call. So I had to say so.' She smiled quickly. 'Now,' she got up and took a sheaf of papers from her desk. 'Take a look at this for me. It's a company called Tetracom. They have a new idea for microwave filters for cellular telephone networks. The technology looks very interesting to me. I've scheduled a trip to see them in Cincinnati next Thursday and Friday. Can you make it?'

I was just about to say 'yes, of course', when I hesitated. An overnight trip with Diane, however innocuous, would be bad timing.

'Um, I don't think I'll be able to,' I said. 'This Net Cop business is going to take some sorting out.'

'Oh, come on. It's only a day and a half. And I'd like you to work on it. I think we make a good team.'

When a partner specifically wanted you to work on something it was just stupid to refuse.

'Do you have a problem with travelling with me?' Diane looked at me sharply.

She was standing there, soberly dressed, next to her large desk, a partner of the firm I worked for. Telecoms was her area of expertise, and it was a field I was trying to specialize in myself. How could I have a problem travelling with her?

'No, of course not. I'll do my best.'

'Good. I'll have a word with Gil if Net Cop is a problem. This is an important deal you know'

I smiled and left.

'I saw you slinking into Diane's office,' Daniel said as I returned to my desk. 'You two sure are spending some quality time together.'

'She's just trying to find out how well hung you are, Daniel,' I said. 'But don't worry, I won't tell her. I promise.'

'Tell her that's something she's welcome to figure out for herself,' said Daniel, smiling at the rows of numbers on his computer screen. 'Any time.'

I left the office at six, early for me, and walked home. My route took me up from the Financial District over the Common to Beacon Hill. It was a warm evening for early October, and there were plenty of people walking about in shirt sleeves or T-shirts. But there had already been a couple of cold nights, and the first of the leaves were beginning to turn.

I walked slowly, trying to relax, letting the low sunlight caress my face. There was no doubt that fall was the best time of year in Boston. And winter was the worst. In a couple of months I would be battling through the bitter cold to make my way home.

Beacon Hill was quiet, as usual. I stepped past a woman cajoling four dogs back from the Common to their various mistresses, and smiled politely at a man who gestured at the 'goddamned son of a bitch' who had taken two parking spaces with one car. Parking and dog shit were the two big issues on Beacon Hill. I was for one and against the other, but in this neighbourhood it was prudent to keep such opinions to yourself.

Half way up the hill to my right was where Gil lived, a sedate town house on Louisburg Square, supposedly the most expensive piece of residential real estate in New England. But our apartment was on the 'flat' of the hill, at the bottom, down a pretty little street of dappled sunlight, green leaves and black railings.

I had just broken out a bottle of Sam Adams from the refrigerator when Lisa came in.

'You're early,' I said.

'So are you,' she replied, and gave me a kiss. 'It's kinda nice, isn't it?' She hugged me. 'What's wrong? Bad day?'

'Horrible day.'

'Oh no. What happened?'

I got her a beer and we sat down together on the sofa. She tucked herself under my arm and listened as I told her about the meeting, about the way Frank had humiliated me and the stand I had taken at the end. Then I told her about Craig's reaction. I had been dying to talk to Lisa about it all day.

She exploded. 'I can't believe Dad did that! Let me call him right now'

'No, don't do that.'

'Simon! He shouldn't jerk you around at work. That's way out of line.' She untangled herself from me and moved towards the telephone.

'No, stop Lisa!' I said. 'That'll only make it worse.'

She picked up the phone. I put my finger on the cradle.