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“You too, my dear,” he greets.
“Anna, would you mind starting a fresh pot of coffee while I show the guys around the office?” I ask.
“Sure thing.”
She disappears into the break room, and I lead the two of them to my office. Stanhope admires some of the new artwork I have hanging behind my desk, thanks to Anna, before Langford calls his attention to the display case that is filled with sample bottles of our CBD products.
Stanhope takes his time reading the labels and opening the bottles to smell the oil. He nips off the end of one of the gummies and lets the flavor melt on his tongue.
“Very nice,” he muses.
“Thank you.”
His eyes come to mine. “Your brother sings your praises. He says you have a quality product here, and seeing as the resort is touting itself as a business that intends to use all locally sourced food and materials, it makes sense to stock the new spa with locally made beauty products.”
“Yes, sir,” I agree.
“The question is, are you up to the task of manufacturing at that market pace? I’ve looked at your reports, and by our estimates, your production would quadruple in the first year. That’s a lot of growth in a short amount of time.”
I nod. “Yes, sir. If you’d like to join me at the conference table, I’d be happy to show you the proposal I have put together and go over the new product line, which is already in development.”
They follow me to the table and take a seat. Anna walks over, carrying a coffee pot and two mugs.
“Weston, do you need me, or is it okay for me to head out for a while?” Anna asks.
“I think we have it from here. Enjoy your lunch,” I tell her.
She quickly fills our coffee mugs before setting the pot in the center of the table and excusing herself.
“All right, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Stanhope suggests.
I give them my pitch and show them the product mockups, and then we talk numbers.
Langford spreads the blueprints for the village shops that are under construction in front of us, and he and Stanhope lay out their proposal. I counter with what I had in mind, and in the end, we agree.
It’s not what I expected, I thought we were going to discuss use of my products at the resort, but if all goes according to plan, it will be a much more lucrative venture for all parties involved.
Langford rolls up the prints, takes the copies of the mockups I had made for him, and stuffs them into his briefcase.
“We’ll talk to the other investors and have contracts drafted this week. I’ll send them over for your signature as soon as they hit my desk,” Langford says.
The resort has two other investors. One of them being our brother Garrett. The last is our father, Hilton Tuttle.
He extends his hand, and we shake.
“Looks like we’re going into business together, brother,” I say.
“God help us,” he mumbles.
I lead them to the door, and we step out of the office. I shake Stanhope’s hand, and as they make their way to Langford’s truck, I notice a figure jogging up the steep embankment past the parking lot.
What is she doing?
Once they are pulling away, I walk over and watch as she makes it to the top and turns and sprints back down.
“Why are you climbing that bank?” I ask.
She stumbles at the sound of my voice, and I move to catch her.
