“Morning,” I said, setting up my laptop near the AV equipment so I could plug it in when the time came.
After years of working together, Simon and I knew the dance steps to meetings like this by heart.
I’d drive the slides, painting the picture of how Redwood’s scale and resources could make Beau’s AI-powered advanced pattern recognition a global product. And Simon would run the talking points with his signature charm—offering grand promises, glossy metaphors, and a steady grin—polishing my data into destiny.
From the hallway, I could see people orbiting the room, as if they could sense something big was about to happen.
But ever oblivious, James decided he’d rather not wait to find out. He darkened the conference room doorway like he was on the hunt for intel.
“You guys must have a top-tier catering order in here or something,” he joked.
“Beau Walker is on his way over,” I said, hoping James would take the hint and make himself scarce.
But that was an optimistic thought, because as far as I could tell, James lived a hintless existence.
“Oh, shit.” James smirked and leaned against the doorframe. “Is he looking for a buyer? I have a connection with—”
“James,” I said, more sharply this time, “unless you’re here to do an AV sound check, maybe we’ll catch up with you after?”
Simon didn’t look up from his notes. “We’ll save you a bagel.”
That finally did it. With a mock salute, James shoved off, crossing with someone I couldn’t see a few steps past the doorway.
That’s when Beau Walker stepped into the room, escorted by Emily from the front desk. He was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a boyish grin that had no business waltzing into a Redwood acquisition meeting.
“Hey, Este,” he said.
I looked past him as Emily made her exit, waiting for the suited convoy that I would have expected to be in tow. But nobody followed. No entourage. No assistant juggling iced lattes. Not even a blazer. Only him.
Beau glanced at the polished conference table, the Sharpies lined up like soldiers, and then to me.
I rose, stepping toward him, but Simon beat me there. And the sound of their hands clapping together in a handshake rang off the glass wall like a starting gun.
“Good to see you again.” Simon gestured toward the leather chairs. “Glad you could make the time, Beau. Are we waiting on anyone? Your team?”
Usually these early conversations started with a presentation from some group of investors or board members. But Beau gave a half shrug, dropping into the seat across from us.
“There’s no team. No investors. No board.” He looked Simon dead in the eye. “I built the company myself. I own it outright. I hope that’s okay.”
It was more than okay. And the sly smile on Beau’s face telegraphed that he knew it. He was holding the power and control for InfoSynth in the palm of his hand.
Simon slowed as he lowered into his chair. “That’s unusual.”
“Maybe,” Beau said. “I never could get comfortable with the idea of putting my fate in someone else’s hands. It wasn’t always easy, but I wanted to build something where I maintained autonomy around decisions.”
The line hit harder than it should have. No layers. No approvals. No safety net.
To anyone else, Simon’s posture would have looked unchanged. But I knew him. Knew that the way he wiped at the tip of his nose—only once—with his pointer finger meant he was recalibrating. This entire billion-dollar dance could turn on a shrug of Beau’s shoulders.
And I hated the little surge of heat that stirred in my chest with this revelation.
As I sat down and offered Beau the cables to connect hislaptop, I tried to ignore the spark of attraction that traveled up my arm as our fingers brushed. If I didn’t know better, I would say he felt it, too.
“My slides are in a Google Drive,” he said, his voice lower than I remembered. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
As I scribbled down the guest network details and passed him a slip of paper, I could feel Simon becoming impatient, like a racehorse revving for the gate to open. He lived for the action. The thrill of dealmaking. He was ready to get started.
Beau must have picked up on the signals, too, because within seconds, his slides were projected—the room bathed in the cool, blue light of the screen—and we were under way. Beau walked through the vision for InfoSynth—an AI system that shaved the static out of data pattern recognition. He had built a tool that could generate modeling patterns on weather and migration, improving our understanding of climate change while predicting infrastructure needs before crises struck.
