Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Smitty cleared customs and was met at Sydney Airport by Marjorie Jergenson’s personal assistant, Harvey Waddell. A nervous guy with bright red hair and freckles, Harvey was a shrimp next to Smitty.
“Ms. Jergenson was sorry she couldn’t meet you herself,” Harvey said in a thick Australian accent sprinkled with a stammer.
He had to scurry along to keep up with Smitty as they left the international terminal.
“She was called into an early meeting. She said she’ll see you later this morning or this afternoon if you wish to sleep after your long journey. ”
“I slept on the plane, so this morning’s fine.”
Harvey led him to a dark sedan and popped the trunk.
Smitty was thrown off when he realized the steering wheel was on the passenger side of the car. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” he muttered under his breath.
“Did you say something, Mr. Smith?”
“No.”
“Ah, yes, very well then.”
On the way into downtown, Smitty learned Sydney is the capital of New South Wales and was voted the world’s friendliest city six years in a row.
He also discovered he had left summer behind at home.
According to Harvey, while July was not the coolest month of the year in Australia, the average temperature was only nine degrees Celsius or forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.
Harvey took the scenic route into downtown along Sydney Harbour where Smitty got his first view of the world-famous Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House.
“You can climb the bridge if you’re so inclined,” Harvey said, clearly trying to make conversation.
Watching the morning rush hour traffic whiz by on the wrong side of the road made Smitty nauseous. “I’m here to work. I doubt I’ll have time.”
Harvey kept quiet until he pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a black glass office building. “Your apartment is on the sixteenth floor.” Harvey handed the key and a business card to Smitty. “If there’s anything you need, you can contact me day or night. I’m at your disposal.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” For the first time in several hours, he thought of Ted and Caroline, and the sickening surge of pain led him to wonder if he would ever be fine again.
He willed himself to not think about it and to focus on the task at hand.
He and his partners stood to make a lot of money from this deal, so he vowed to give the review his full attention.
Harvey helped him with his bags and led him to the elevator. “You’ll need your key to access the sixteenth floor.”
The elevator opened into a hallway between two doors, and Harvey went to the door on the left. He stepped aside to allow Smitty to open the door and go ahead of him into the luxurious apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour.
“The bedroom’s right this way. There are two bathrooms, one here in the hallway and the other’s in the bedroom. The kitchen has been stocked, but if there’s anything you need, just let us know.”
“Thank you very much, Harvey,” Smitty said, anxious to be rid of the nervous little guy who was so eager to please. “I appreciate you getting up early to meet me.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure, Mr. Smith. When you’re ready to work, come down to the twelfth floor and ask for me. I’ll show you to the office we’ve set aside for you.”
“I’ll be down in an hour or two after I check in with my New York office.”
“Very good. I’ll expect you then.”
They shook hands, and after Harvey left, Smitty strolled over to look at the view through the full-length window.
He stood there for a long time without seeing much of anything.
The pain lurked just below the surface. He’d put half a world of distance between himself and the source of the pain but was dismayed to discover he hadn’t outrun it.
He felt like he was wading through quicksand as he made the supreme effort to put one foot in front of the other, to take the next breath, to simply function.
Thinking of them together just compounded the misery.
I want to go back to Saturday when I was still ignorant of what was going on right in front of me.
I want to go back to before I knew my best friend was capable of hurting me this way.
With a shake of his head to clear it of unpleasant thoughts, he turned away from the window and went to retrieve his laptop.
Ninety minutes later, he had caught up on the e-mail that had accumulated during his trip, checked the latest exchange numbers, and sent several messages to his staff in New York, where it was seven o’clock Tuesday night.
This fourteen-hour time difference is going to take some getting used to, he thought.
Two of his employees replied to his e-mails right away, and he was pleased they were working late even when he was out of the country.
After he unpacked, showered, and shaved, Smitty dressed in a dark suit, gathered his briefcase containing the Jergenson files, and went out to the hallway to summon the elevator.
On the twelfth floor, he opened the double glass doors to Jergenson Investment Company LLC, which apparently occupied the entire floor.
At the reception desk, he asked for Harvey who had apparently been standing on the other side of the wall waiting for Smitty.
He led Smitty down a long hallway, past offices where people were either hard at work or putting on a good show for the potential new owner.
“Do they know why I’m here?”
“Yes, sir. Ms. Jergenson is very big on communicating with her employees. She’s done an admirable job of putting aside her own grief over the loss of her father to focus on the company and the people who now work for her.”
Smitty wondered if young Harvey wasn’t just a little bit in love with the boss lady.
“Did the employees like her father?”
“Very much so.” Harvey gestured for Smitty to proceed into an office at the end of the hallway.
“You’ll find there’re more than a dozen employees who’ve been with the company since Mr. Jergenson founded it thirty years ago.
I’m sure it goes without saying that people are worried about what to expect once the sale goes through. ”
Smitty nodded but said nothing to allay the young man’s concerns. There would be time for that later if he and his partners decided to buy the company.
“I’ll leave you to get settled, and I’ll let Ms. Jergenson know you’re here.”
“Thanks, Harvey.” Smitty raised the blinds that covered the windows behind his desk. Like his apartment, the office looked out on Sydney Harbour. He watched a freighter steam through the crisp blue water as two sailboats tacked to get out of its way.
“Hallo, John. I see you’ve arrived safely. I trust Harvey took good care of you.”
Smitty turned around to find a young woman in a smart black suit standing in the doorway. The only feature that gave her away as an adult was her height—she was at least five feet, ten inches tall.
“Um, yes. Yes, he did.”
“Marjorie Jergenson.” She extended her hand with a welcoming smile that made the corners of her brown eyes crinkle. Her long auburn curls, which were corralled by a batik headband, seemed better suited to a sixth grader than a chief executive.
What is she, twelve years old? Smitty wondered.
He shook her hand. “You’re Marjorie? I’m sorry. I was just expecting someone a little . . . well, older.”
“I’m twenty-eight, and I wasn’t expecting my father to die and leave me in charge of an international investment company that employs three hundred people—most of them at least a decade older than me. So I guess that makes us even.”
“Is that why you’re so anxious to sell?”
“It’s one reason.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“So am I. He was a good man.”
“What happened to him?”
“He had an aneurism burst at home. By the time they found him, he’d been gone for some time.” Her tone was matter of fact, but her eyes gave away her pain.
“Did you work here before he died?”
“No, but I’ve spent the last two months learning everything I need to know to make a good sale. My chief concern is protecting the people who’ve devoted their lives to my father and his company. Anything else will be secondary to that.”
He nodded. “Duly noted.”
“Well, John,” she said. His name came out as “Jawn” with her accent. “Shall I introduce you around?”
He started to correct her use of his first name but stopped himself. Smitty was dead. He would be John here. “Yes, please.”
By early that evening, he had met most of the executive-level employees and was concluding the day in a meeting with Marjorie and David McAvoy, the company’s chief financial officer.
“You’ll see that my father and David began following U.S. generally accepted accounting principles seven years ago in anticipation of an eventual sale to an American company. David has copies of our last seven audit reports, all of them containing unqualified opinions from American auditors.”
David, who was in his late fifties, beamed with pride as Marjorie spoke of accounting principles and audit reports. She had obviously worked hard to familiarize herself with the business in the two months since her father’s death.
“I’ll have some questions about the audit reports tomorrow,” Smitty said.
“The staff has been instructed to make themselves available to you as needed,” Marjorie said.
“Thank you.”
“Whatever you need,” David said, “just let me know.” He stood to shake Smitty’s hand. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
After David left Marjorie’s office, she turned to Smitty. “Are you interested in dinner, John?”
Smitty had to think about that. “Since I haven’t eaten since breakfast on the plane, I probably should be hungry, but my body has no idea what time it is.”
“It’ll take a few days to acclimate.” She got up and retrieved a menu from the credenza behind the big desk. “We can order from the restaurant downstairs, and they’ll send it up to my apartment.”
“You live in the building?”
“I’m staying in my father’s apartment, across the hall from yours.”