Diversification #5
Some initial sector-based exclusion criteria, time-bound divestment road map, reinforcement mechanisms, the latest portfolio breakdown of our exposure, key risks, etc.
Look into governance risk analysis within our portfolio—you can use Paris Agreement goals as a first metric.
Talk to Jia and Paul about amendments to proxy voting policies.
By tonight is fine.
Aleksandr Petrov
Chairman the idea bears a single but clear check mark in Aleksandr’s hand beside it.
Lili sets the papers down.
Trying not to smile—but failing miserably—she slips out of his office, shutting the door quietly behind her. She heads down
the hall to her friends, arms full of towels, feeling like she has some shiny secret. “If you want to shower,” she offers
when she’s back in the huge living space, gesturing towards the guest rooms, the other side of the loft, “bathrooms are down
that way.”
“It’s fine,” Jackie says. She begins to tousle her hair dry with one of the towels. “No point, everything’s wet. This blow-dry’s
done for already.”
Lili shrugs. She pulls off her shirt, laying it over the kitchen counter so it can drip-dry. She wraps one of the towels around
her shoulders, her sports bra only semi-damp.
Amina’s wandering the big, open loft. Her shoes are kicked off by the door, but her bare feet still avoid the white rug, leaving
damp imprints of her soles on the wood floor.
“It’s a nice place,” Amina comments. She seems surprised as she looks over the tall windows, the high ceilings: the Twombly,
the sprawling white couch, the record collection.
“Not as . . .” Jackie trails off. “Ostentatious, as I thought it’d be.”
Lili raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”
“Like, where’s the embalmed Hirst shark?” Amina says, grabbing a towel.
“Right—and okay, where have you fucked?” Jackie interjects. “I don’t want to sit there.”
“Jesus,” Lili mutters, flipping the kettle on.
“Damn, that many places?”
“Just sit down,” she grumbles. Standing on tiptoe, she grabs mugs from the cupboard. “What type of tea do you want?”
“What’ve you got?”
“Um, jasmine, peppermint, Earl Grey—I think I have some sencha, too, actually, and rooibos,” Lili says, shuffling through
tea boxes.
“Rooibos, please,” Jackie chirps.
“Me, too,” Amina says.
“Milk?” Lili asks, opening the fridge. Several neat rows of oat milk cartons are lined up alongside the whole milk.
There’s almond milk, Aleksandr had said last weekend, reading 10-Ks on the couch as she’d loitered around the kitchen making a quick snack, chia
pudding he’d skeptically declined. I asked the staff to start stocking it.
Almond milk? Lili looked at him, aghast. Almonds are destroying the environment. Ungodly water usage, droughts in California—honestly, Sasha. That’s not even getting
into the health impacts of carrageenan! Sure, Big Oat is a problem, but it’s better than almond.
Almond, oat, what’s next? he’d grumbled. His fountain pen made a sharp, severe slash as he’d struck through a page of text, but the next day, she’d
opened the fridge to this stock of oat milk.
“Yeah, thanks,” Amina says. Lili shuts the fridge with her shoulder, unscrewing the carton of Oatly. The kettle clicks as
it hits boil; Lili fills their cups, the steam rising, heating her face. Rain streams against the windows, muffling the sounds
of traffic on Broadway.
“You, uh—you really know your way around here,” Jackie comments.
“I guess.” Lili pours a glug of oat milk into the tea before sliding it over to Amina.
Jackie tilts her head, a curious smile.
“What?” Lili asks. She dunks her tea bag into the hot water, repetitive motions making the rooibos bloom red.
“You haven’t really acknowledged it like that before,” Jackie says. “Like it’s something, between you two. Not just fucking.”
“Huh,” Lili says, studying her tea.
“Huh?” Jackie repeats.
“Yeah,” Lili affirms. “Huh.”
“Monosyllables, stunning,” Amina says. “You say you’re in grad school?”
She sighs. “It’s something, okay?” she concedes. “I don’t know what, but it’s—I like him. Okay? I do. There, happy?”
Lili braces herself. But instead of pushing, Amina smiles.
Beside her, Jackie sips her tea, hiding a delighted grin.
“Yeah,” Amina says. “I’m happy with that.”
Lili feels discomfort buzz; the unexpected, destabilizing. She leans forward on the counter, taking a long drink from her tea. “You’re heading to France soon, right?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Yes!” Amina beams. “I don’t want to be anywhere near this city for August. Sure you’re not coming?”
Lili laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, I’m sure. Like I said, August is incredibly busy at the farm.” She’s also due to give
her decision on the job to Eileen soon; aside from the cost of a trip, she can’t just jet off right now. It feels like things
are coming together, around here.
“How, exactly, did Jamie get weeks off?” Jackie asks.
Amina shrugs. “Daddy’s boy, all of that.”
Lili frowns. “Are you serious?”
“No, no, he got the time approved months ago,” Amina admits. “Even Jamie’s not that much of an idiot.”
“Well, debatable,” Jackie says.
“Hey, at least he’s pretty,” Amina retorts.
“I’m pretty, Ami. He’s just blond, rich, and clears six feet. The standards for men are subterranean.”
“That’s not fair! Jamie’s actually really intelligent, he just—”
The rain continues. Mug warm in her hands, she listens to Amina and Jackie bicker, and she feels the ground under her feet.
Two weeks.
He’s away in San Francisco for two weeks, and her life feels full even around the yearning for him.
When she goes to the new exhibit at the Whitney with Amina: (11:34 a.m.) thought you’d like this piece (11:40 a.m.) Is that a Mehretu? (11:41 a.m.) yes don’t try to buy it. i just thought you’d like it (11:42 a.m.) seriously don’t buy it. leave art for the
people (11:45 a.m.) I’m not buying it, Lili.
(11:45 a.m.) good. (11:46 a.m.) Anyway, I already have several of her pieces.
(11:46 a.m.) jesus christ. When her and Jackie try to make gluten-free, vegan chocolate cake at the loft: “Well, I’m not eating eggs.
” “Well, I’m not eating gluten!” “Something has to hold this together!” (8:43 p.m.) do u have vegan egg substitute?
like flax seeds? (8:45 p.m.) Excuse me? When Jamie gets hold of a case of Brutal Wine, and they break out an impromptu tasting while taking down pieces from Amina’s group gallery show: “Do we, like, decant this?” “No, I think the whole point of raw wine is you drink it as is?” “I can’t tell if it’s disgusting or I’m clueless.
” “This tastes like I’m seeing God?” (3:37 p.m.) r u supposed to decant unfiltered wine (3:45 p.m.) If it’s a red, yes, I would.
It’s not as necessary with whites. “Okay, okay,” Lili announces to the group, “let’s try decanting some of it. ”
He prefers phone calls, in the in-between moments of their days.