Chapter Eighteen
Xander
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“Hey, Xander,” Lydia greeted me when I arrived at the office on Monday morning. “You’re a bit late.”
“Still on time for the first meeting,” I replied. I hadn’t left Bailey’s house until this morning, going home to change before coming to the office.
“Yes, of course, of course. Listen, I’ve forwarded you some Christmas invitations you got today.”
I raised a brow. “I received more than one in the same day?”
She nodded. “You know how people are. They like to invite anyone who’s anyone to those sorts of events.”
“You can RSVP that I’m not going.”
“Don’t you even want to look at them?”
“No, not necessary.”
The Christmas events were the bane of my existence. I knew for a fact that most companies had the end of the financial year on the thirty-first. Who had time for all these things? Some of them weren’t even corporate parties.
I hadn’t attended one in years. The first few years in business, my brothers and I had gone to most of them because we’d been eager to let everyone in New Orleans know that we’d taken over the Orleans Conglomerate. It had been necessary for the town to see the transition. But on the fourth year, I pulled back. There were plenty of us LeBlancs, so we didn’t all have to attend.
Some of my brothers were more than happy to keep going. Zachary was a perennial favorite at the parties, as were Anthony and Beckett. Julian had attended many of them, too, before he started spending more and more time behind the counter at his bars. He said he got his socializing fix from there and didn’t need the parties, though he attended many events during Carnival season.
As I got into my office, I shrugged out of my suit jacket and grinned for no reason at all when I noticed my cuff links. Bailey had put them on this morning, saying they were her favorite part of my outfit. So I’d worn them.
Out of instinct, I snapped a picture of them and sent it to her.
Bailey: You’re wearing the same clothes at the office? Doing the walk of shame?
I replied right away, pacing my office instead of sitting down.
Xander: I went home and changed. I just kept the cuff links.
Bailey: Why?
Xander: Good question. Because you like them so much.
Was it crazy that I wanted her to know this tidbit?
Xander: How is your morning going?
Bailey: Absolutely perfect. I’m a bit sleepy, but someone gave me a lot of good vibes yesterday, so I’m not complaining at all.
I threw my head back, laughing. I gave her good vibes. This woman. In some ways, she felt so completely different from me. Yet in other ways, I felt as if we were exactly the same.
I finally sat at the desk, opening my inbox. Lydia always sent me an email early Monday morning with all the to-dos for the week.
She’d sent me two separate ones this morning. One was simply to-dos, and the other one was the invitations she’d mentioned. The events were listed chronologically along with the addresses so I wouldn’t have to sift through every single one to get the details.
I glanced at the list and was preparing to delete the email when one in particular caught my attention: the LUNA Ball. I’d only been there once. It was a fundraiser for art or something mixed in with a fashion show. I hadn’t enjoyed it enough to ever return, but I knew someone who’d actually like it—Bailey.
I opened the spreadsheet she’d sent me a while back, and the LUNA Ball wasn’t on the list. I started to formulate a plan.
The event was in the evening, which was good—I could get in a full day of work before picking her up and then heading to the event. She also didn’t have anything else planned on that evening, at least not according to the spreadsheet.
She would definitely enjoy this, and I’d love nothing more than to watch her. Last time, I’d been there on business. This time, I could just spend the evening with Bailey. The prospect appealed to me more and more the longer I thought about it.
I didn’t want to check with Bailey yet, intending to surprise her.
But I did reply to my assistant: RSVP for two for the LUNA Ball.
She’d be shocked, but it didn’t matter. If Bailey had some other plans, I could always pull out of it.
I did eventually get back to work and managed four hours uninterrupted before I got a phone call from Lydia.
“Hey,” she said. “There’s this guy named Trudeau who wants to talk to you.”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“He said it’s about the potential sale of the confectionery.”
“Oh yeah. Put him through.”
This was a pleasant surprise. I’d put out feelers eons ago, but no one had contacted me. I was pleased that someone was interested.
“Hello, my name is Ron Trudeau. You can call me Ron.”
“Hi, Ron. I’m Xander LeBlanc.”
“I figured it’s easier if I just call you.”
“Sure. I prefer that to endless emailing too.”
“Rumor has it that the Orleans Conglomerate wants to sell the confectionery. It’s a small operation, which is exactly what I’m hoping for, and I’d like to learn more. First of all, how come you’re interested in selling?” he inquired.
“It’s far too small and too much hassle for us to deal with.”
He chuckled. “You’re not really selling me on that.”
“I’m always straightforward. I can give you the numbers, but it’s completely in the red because we don’t sell the products. We simply use them internally.”
“I figured that was the case. Everyone knows the LeBlanc & Broussard pralines aren’t for sale.”
That surprised me. “I didn’t realize that was common knowledge.”
“Yes, it is. Which brings me to my next question. I would like to keep using the name after buying it, if that’s something you’re amenable to?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not something I can agree on without consulting the family.”
“I mainly wanted to buy it for the brand name and the recipes, of course. So I’m assuming that whoever is in charge now will hand them over to my own team. My family has been making chocolate products for over a hundred years, but our pralines are no match. “
“That’s another thing I can’t guarantee without talking to the team.” But just imagining talking to Bailey about it felt strange, like I was betraying her in some way. Besides, I was certain that most of the recipes belonged to Celine and Isabeau. That would definitely be a difficult conversation.
“Look, man, I’ll be very honest. Without a brand name or the recipes, I’d just be buying some ovens. I want to grow that business and sell these babies everywhere, make bank.”
“That’s a great plan.”
“I know. The question is, why aren’t you doing it?”
I chose my words carefully. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I also didn’t want to make it seem like his idea was insignificant. “Because it would still be a very small operation within the Orleans Conglomerate. And frankly, it still wouldn’t be worth our time.”
“Well, some of us are little fish and are happy with a mom-and-pop shop, so to speak. I’m not budging on the name and the recipes, though. That’s the deal-breaker for me.”
“About the name... I’m not sure that’s going to work out.” I didn’t need to consult the family to know they wouldn’t be thrilled with someone else using our name. “We don’t franchise our name. And we certainly wouldn’t let someone outside the family use it.”
“In that case, I’m not going to be able to jump on this, but do me a favor and think about it.”
“With the right marketing strategy, you could sell a lot of pralines on your own. You could communicate in your initial campaign that they used to be called LeBlanc & Broussard, so people make the connection. We could help with that.”
“You would do that at your cost?”
I was triumphant that I still had his interest. “Yes. It might cost us a bit, but it could be worth it.”
“Then I’m back in the game. I’ll think about it. Thanks for the call. By the way, you said you do have some numbers you could send me?”
“Sure. Mostly about the costs.”
“I want to take a look at them, although that won’t be saying much without any sort of sales history. But I’m going to make some projections of my own.”
“Thanks. What was your name again?”
“Ron Trudeau,” he said. “You’re going to have me looked up?”
“Hey, that’s how I do business.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I would do the same with anyone else. But your reputation precedes you.”
“Yes, the family is well-known,” I agreed.
“Not just the family. You’re known as being one of the most efficient and honest businesspeople in New Orleans. That’s quite a reputation to have. It’s why I’m even considering buying the confectionery in the first place.”
The man was buttering me up—I’d been around the block enough times to know a brownnoser when I saw one—but he got points for being subtle. “I’ll have my assistant send you the spreadsheets.”
“We’ll stay in touch,” he said before hanging up.
After the conversation ended, I instructed Lydia to send him whatever he needed and then immediately called Bailey.
Surprising her wasn’t fair. She’d probably need time to prepare for the ball, or maybe she even had some other plans, since she wasn’t going to a different event that evening.
I debated bringing up the potential sale, but nothing was set in stone yet. There was no point upsetting her.