∞∞∞
Karl Dietrich was surprisingly short. His diminutive stature was only emphasized by the oversized oak panels lining the exclusive members-only club dining room and the tall backs on the burgundy leather chairs. He sat across the room watching Liam and the dean approach with an affable grin. But Liam knew better. This man was a shark.
“Karl! So good of you to invite us to the club,” Dean Van Aller said, extending his hand.
Mr. Dietrich shook the proffered hand without standing, like a little king.
“I don’t want this business dragging out. Petra wants to make the announcement before Christmas,” he said as he lifted his empty martini glass in signal to a passing waiter. “So let’s get the damn thing done.”
Liam dropped into the armchair to Mr. Dietrich’s right. “And where is Mrs. Dietrich today?” he asked, glancing around.
“Why? Were you hoping to sweet talk her, boy?” Mr. Dietrich said with a laugh as the waiter returned with his martini. “What’ll you have? Liam? Stu?” Mr. Dietrich asked.
Liam shook his head. “Nothing for me.”
“Nonsense. Bring the boy a brandy,” Mr. Dietrich said to the waiter.
“Make that two,” the dean replied.
“Good man,” Mr. Dietrich nodded. Then, to Liam, “My wife is shopping. Never misses an opportunity to spend my money,” he laughed. “Stu tells me you’ve finally seen sense and settled onBohemefor the winter production.”
“Yes, sir,” Liam replied.
“Excellent choice. Can’t go wrong with Puccini.” He waved at someone behind Liam. “Ah, there he is. You remember my son Aidan,” Mr. Dietrich said as the tenor appeared at his side, rocks glass in hand.
Liam’s stomach dropped and he clenched his jaw, reminding himself that he absolutely could not pummel Aidan Dietrich in the middle of his father’s members-only club. Aidan pulled an armchair over to their group from a cluster adjacent to them, and dropped into it, sinking low on its cushioned seat and letting his legs splay wide.
“Good to see you, bro,” he said to Liam, lifting his glass in a toast before nodding to the dean. “Stu.” Liam caught the way the dean’s nostrils flared at the informal greeting, but he, too, seemed determined to control his temper.
“So now that we’re all here, let’s cut to the chase,” Mr. Dietrich said. “Twenty-five million to endow the opera program. Two installments, the first to come before the end of the year. The second to come the following December.”
The dean nodded. “I reviewed the papers your attorney sent over. All that’s left to do is confirm the way you’d like to be acknowledged for this generous gift.”
“How many ways you got?” Aidan deadpanned. His father shot him a severe look and Aidan returned to his whiskey, sinking deeper into his chair.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there are Dietrich Halls at every major conservatory program on the East Coast. If this gift is to provide the resources to turn Burnett’s department into a true conservatory, then I should expect at least one Dietrich Hall on your campus as well,” Mr. Dietrich said as the waiter returned with their brandies.
Liam took a small sip, reminding himself to go slow. “The building housing our practice rooms is unnamed. It would make a great Dietrich Hall,” he suggested, avoiding the dean’s wide-eyed glance.
Mr. Dietrich laughed and took another sip of his martini. “He’s funny, Stu. Wherever did you find him?”
“Liam is a riot, alright,” the dean said, shooting Liam a warning glance. “Of course, we’ve also discussed the theater.”
Mr. Dietrich nodded. “Petra Condos Dietrich Hall has a nice ring to it. I’ve never given my wife practice rooms before,” he mused. “And you put Aidan’s name up on that theater.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Dietrich would prefer to havehername on the theater,” Liam suggested.
Mr. Dietrich narrowed his eyes. “Well then it’s a good thing my wife doesn’t have a say in the matter.” Liam nodded and swallowed down another swig of his brandy. “Is this going to be a problem? I’d hate to see the university miss out on a donation of this size over –”
“No problem,” the dean assured him. “No problem at all. Have your attorney update the papers so we have the correct spelling as it should appear on the two buildings, and we will get those agreements signed right away.”
“See that you do,” Mr. Dietrich replied.
They made their goodbyes and left the club in tense silence, Liam’s head swimming. They’d done it. They’d closed the deal. Well, the dean had. But still – a $25 million endowment would transform the program.
And all it had cost him was his self-respect.
As soon as the car door closed behind them, the dean turned on him, his face getting redder by the moment with the concealed rage. “What the hell kind of stunt was that?”
