Page 11 of The Difference Between

“Do we have a concentration risk in any one co-packer or ingredient supplier?” Derek, another partner, asks. “And how much CapEx are you thinking is needed to modernize?”

“I’m glad you asked that because actually—” My phone dings and robs the well-researched answer right from my lips.

Got more info: tumor wrapped itself around a blood vessel.

I start my response then remember the twenty suits staring at me. “Sorry, they actually⁠—”

My phone dings in my hands. But she’s doing well. Sorry, probably should have included that in the last one.

The timing of this could not be worse.

It’s Matt’s voice that follows. “If I’m not mistaken, I think we’d have options to utilize a co-packer of our own.”

I freeze. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s answering questions. Meant for me. In my goddamn meeting.

“Reese can correct me if I’m wrong, of course,” Matt adds, looking at me along with everyone else. With a sincere look on his face. “But I’d put expected CapEx to be about two hundred million with an IRR of twenty to twenty-five percent. Do you agree, Reese?”

I clear my throat. “Yes.”

“How does this deal impact our overall portfolio concentration?” Trish pipes in. “And what percent of fund capital would be allocated to this sector after investment?”

“Overall it would—” My phone dings again, tightening my chest. Something is wrong with Mom, I feel it in my bones.

“And the suppliers?” Brandi adds.

I look at Matt. This isn’t ideal. This is actually the opposite of ideal. But if I don’t find out what’s going on at that hospital, I won’t be able to think clearly. Against every business instinct I have, I nod for him to answer. “Matt’s read up on the numbers and will field the next couple of questions. I have to make a call.”

Matt says, “Sure thing,” and I slip into the hall, already dialing Rue.

“What the hell is going on down there?” I demand through clenched teeth. Through the interior windowed walls of the conference room, Matt takes my position at the front to deliver the information. I don’t know if I’m thankful or pissed.

“God, Reese. Chill out, will you?” Rue snaps. “I’m giving you the updates we’re getting. They didn’t exactly invite us back to the OR.”

“What else did they say?” I bark. “Was the nurse worried?”

“She’s a nurse. They’re bred to deliver bad news without emotion. Robots in scrubs.”

I blow out a frustrated breath as everyone laughs at something Matt says. “Well how much longer? You’re fucking up my meeting.”

“Fucking up your meeting?” Rue guffaws. “How dare Mom’s brain grow a tumor around a blood vessel without consulting your schedule or appeasing your insatiable need to be better than everyone.”

“I don’t need to be better,” I say evenly, “I just am.”

“You’re a money-obsessed pain in the ass, actually,” Rue shoots back.

Across the conference room, Jake comes into view, cleaning the windows in the background of Matt pitching my deal. He’s holding a one-hundred-dollar squeegee while figures in the hundreds of millions are being tossed around in front of him and there’s a billion-dollar view behind him. He is tethered to a cage and sandwiched by wealth and if his mother was having brain surgery, he wouldn’t be arguing with his sister about it on the phone because he’d be sitting next to her.

Matt sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop, unwrapping it then sticking it in his mouth.

In my pitch.

“I have to go,” I tell her. “Matt just put a fucking lollipop in his mouth. I’ll call you after my meeting.”

“Wait. Who’s Ma⁠—”

I end the call.

In the room, I take my position next to Matt and do my best to look grateful as I mouth, Thank you. He nods and takes his seat. Sucking on his diabolical lollipop.