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“Yeah, the LMT, some anti-inflammatories, and then the whole of yesterday lying down and stretching out at home has almost fixed things.” I close Max’s office door behind me, the blind rattling against it. “I’m okay now as long as I don’t make any sudden movements.”
I gesture to the blinds concealing the entire glass wall. “How come these are closed? You hardly ever do that.”
“Charlotte had a video conference earlier, and the flickering of all the people on her screen was distracting. Forgot to re-open them. Anyway, has my wonder assistant gotten everything straightened out for you? Things all good for Monday?”
“Yeah, think so. I haven’t spoken to her for two days, not since we got back Wednesday evening.” I button up my jacket as if to hide how that thought knots my stomach. “But she sent me some emails with photos from the new contractors yesterday and this morning. Looks like she might be pulling off a miracle.”
I amble over to Max’s spectacular long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun glints off the East River. “Beautiful day.”
“Did you hobble up here to discuss the weather? Because I have, like, actual work to do.”
“Can I not come and visit my big brother for a casual chat sometimes?” I wander back across the room and ease onto the sofa.
“You could, yes. But you’ve done that exactly…” He wrinkles his brow, purses his lips, and makes like he’s counting on his fingers. “Oh, I know, never times.”
I lean forward, resting an elbow on one knee, and flick through the magazines on the coffee table. “I read a couple of interesting things on the flight to and from Plainsville.”
“Oh, yeah?” Max taps his pen on the desk. “Fascinating. Are you leaving now?”
“It was kind of fascinating, actually.” I keep flicking. “One of them was an HR thing about different corporate policies.”
“Sounds like the opposite of fascinating.” He rifles through the papers in front of him. “I thought you were overrun with work. There must be something you have to go do. Even if it’s just trying to beat your personal best at Pac-Man.”
Once the little brother, always the little brother. I do what I’ve been practicing for twenty-eight years and ignore him. “It said how some policies that companies think are helpful are, in reality, quite damaging.”
“I’m about to institute a policy that no one I’m related to—scratch that, no one at all—can stroll into my office and babble garbage at me when I’m trying to work.”
I keep my eyes firmly on the magazine and turn another page. “The nonfraternization one was the most interesting.”
Max lets out a quiet ha sound, then leans back in his chair, rests his elbows on the arms, and steeples his fingers against his chin. “Oh, yeah? Go on.”
“You have one of those, right?”
“You know I do. And you know why.”
“Yeah, the whole Connor-chasing-Anna thing.”
“No. He’s the reason we don’t mix business and family. The nonfraternization policy is because of the AddUp thing.”
“The AddUp thing?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“AddUp. The second company I ever bought. Accounting software start-up. You must have heard what happened with that. Lord knows I was ranting about it for long enough.”
“I probably had my head stuck in a book at MIT around then.”
“Well, little brother, I was just about to land two big-name clients for it that would have helped us sell it to more big-name clients when all the fucking staff walked out.”
“Walked out?”
“Yes. Apparently, they’d been pissed off for some time that one of the programmers seemed to always get preferential treatment—a cushy workload, time off on short notice, and a secret raise no one else got. Then they figured out she was sleeping with the manager of the development team, so they all walked out and refused to come back till they’d both gone.”
“Wow. Good for them.”
“Good for them? That bullshit lost me both those big-name clients, got AddUp a terrible reputation, and I had to spend what little cash I had at that point on rebranding.” He shudders at the memory. “Then not long after that, the thing with Vikki happened.”
“The Vikki thing? I don’t know what that is either. You mean Vikki from Harvard? Who worked for you when you first started?” I have no idea what thing he’s talking about. But Vikki and Max were pals in their MBA program, and she worked for him helping to research which companies to acquire.
“Yes. And I talked her out of jobs that paid way better than I could at the time to come work with me. She was so, so smart.” Max puffs out a regretful sigh.
