Seer (4 page)

The hostess was expecting us, and we were led to a private booth tucked away in a back corner of the restaurant. It was near the doorway to the back offices, and thus partially isolated from the other tables. I glanced around as we were led to it. Once seated, Solange said, “I requested this specific table.”

We paused, the two of them studying me.

“Ms. Welsh,” Solange said after a moment, “It is my habit to be somewhat old-fashioned and formal, as you have perhaps noticed. But we will be working closely together over the next several weeks.” She smiled. “And perhaps we are to become friends of a sort, as well. Would you allow me to call you Sidney?”

“I’d like that, Solange,” I said.

“Excellent,” she said. “Might I suggest we determine our meal preferences, and then I may continue the…” she smiled. “Interrogation.”

I laughed and agreed.

We made small talk until the waitress stopped by. She handed out menus, explained the specials, and took drink orders. Solange barely glanced at the menu, but Aubree and I took a little longer. When I glanced at Solange questioningly, she simply said, “I’ve been here before.”

The waitress returned with our drinks and took our orders. As soon as the woman was gone, Solange turned to me. She smiled briefly before resuming her questions. She didn’t let up until long after the salad course had come and gone and the main course was in front of us.

“Did you have questions, Aubree?” she then asked. Yes, Aubree had more questions, and she was as probing as Solange had been. Finally she turned to Solange and nodded.

“I am impres
sed, Sidney,” Solange said. She smiled.

I returned her smile. “My turn?” I asked.

Her smile broadened. “Be my guest.”

“You are both lawyers.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you study law?”

“Harvard,” answered Solange.

“William-Mitchell,” Aubree said.

“You both specialize in business law?”

“Yes,” Solange confirmed. “My entire firm is devoted to business
, although I have two lawyers who are tax law experts, both business and personal.”

“And do you both have specialties?”

“I do general business,” said Solange. “Anything and everything.”

“Contracts and Intellectual Property,” Aubree said.

“You’re going to get a workout on this deal,” I observed.

“We both are,” she agreed.

“How big is your firm?”

“Small. Twelve lawyers and eight paralegals,” Solange said. “I am very picky about my paralegals, so we’re understaffed in that regard. For a while, we were at six lawyers and as twice that many paralegals, but then
they started passing their bar exams.”

I asked a few more simple questions like that. I didn’t really have a point; I simply wanted to learn what I could about Solange.

I found her fascinating.

Of course, I couldn’t get the dream out of my head. I wondered what the rest of it meant, but I was sure I wouldn’t figure it out for some time. I was actually pleased that I’d figured out my dream was telling me she was a lawyer. I didn’t have a clue what the rest would mean.

Finally, I apologized. “I’m not good at interrogations as you are, Solange.”

“Perhaps not,” she said. “And that is part of the reason Aubree will shadow you at Green Gulch.”

“How is this going to work?” I asked. I had been involved in the due diligence process before, but never with such a significant legal presence.

“Treat Aubree as your partner,” Solange indicated. “Expect her to take an active role in any conversations you have with the staff. She won’t want to look at the source code, but she’s going to want to know how everything works at a higher level. And she’s going to be very focused on the personnel.” She paused. “Also, if she tells you to do something, do it, and then ask questions in private.”

“Do you anticipate trouble?” I asked.

“Ed really wants their technology,” she said, “but we are troubled by their reticence. I believe we’re walking into a political firestorm. I am convinced there are factions within the company that are not remotely interested in being sold to us. You let us handle that, but if you see anything that makes you uncomfortable, find a chance to tell Aubree.”

“Does Ed share your concerns?”

“Ed, in spite of being a brilliant businessman, sees the best in people. He expects a lot, and
his people rise to the challenge his expectations suggest. We, however, are lawyers.” She didn’t have to say more. I understood entirely. Solange went on. “You don’t need to worry about this so much as be aware of it. Focus on the technology first and foremost. Aubree is probably a better judge of character than you are, but make sure she knows if anyone is bullshitting her.”

“Is that a legal term?”

“Yes,” Aubree said with a small laugh.

“The three of us will be working closely,” Solange said. “Frankly, I’m not worried about the rest. If there are irregularities with the books,
Enzo will find them. He won’t tolerate an unaccounted for penny. And if the technology works, I’m not worried about anything the business analysts find.”

I nodded.

“Do you do this often?”

“Yes. All the time.”

“Do you encounter much fraud?”

“Yes,” Solange said. “All the time. It’s not always fraud, but the definition of ‘entrepreneur’ should be legally required to include the words ‘hopelessly optimistic’. Far too often, that comes across as an inflated quote of sales figures, the financial health of the company, or most especially, the health of the technology. These guys build up their companies past the point they know how to manage the
complexity. Sometimes they’re selling because they believe they’ve solved all the interesting problems, and now they want to go solve a new set of interesting problems. More often, they think they can cash out and become billionaires. That’s even more likely when they have investors who are dissatisfied with their returns and want to cash out.”

She sighed. “We always find irregularities of some sort. Sometimes they’re minor or unintentional.
Sometimes, the irregularities are so extreme that they kill the deal. But often enough, they provide an opportunity to renegotiate the terms of the arrangement. We don’t mind that at all. When it’s intentional, we use the deceit to punish the people involved.”

I thought about everything she said. “I think you should consider me an entrepreneur, Solange.”

She laughed with more abandon than she had displayed so far. “Hopelessly optimistic?”

“I don’t even like thinking about the things you just said,” I admitted.

“You’re like Ed,” she replied. “You want to see the best. That’s why you have us.” She gestured between herself and Aubree. “Don’t worry about any of this. Focus on the technology. We just wanted you to be aware there may be some pretty nasty politics involved.”

“I don’t play politics,” I said. “Another reason I run a one-person consulting firm.”

“If we encounter politics,” Aubree said, “I’ll handle them.” She smiled, and it was predatory. “No one plays politics with me more than once.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same team,” I said.

“So am I,” Solange agreed. “But if you’re ever across the table from us, you only need to worry if you’re trying to deceive us. You saw the NDA we drafted. We aim to be very fair. If you deal with us honestly, then we’re all friends.”

The conversation moved to simpler topics, small talk, really. But I was struck by the intelligence of both women. I wasn’t sure we would be friends, but I thought I was going to enjoy working with them.

I loved working with professionals.

Dolores was the first to arrive on Saturday, and she didn’t come empty handed. My doorbell rang a few minutes after three. I hadn’t actually started cooking yet, but was just making my last minute notes. I stepped to the door.

Dolores was waiting there, biting her lip nervously
and holding a reusable grocery bag. She was dressed in a deep blue cotton maxi dress and lightly made up. She looked nice. I smiled and held the door open.

“I’m so glad you came,” I told her, trying to alleviate her nervousness. I opened my arms and let her decide if she wanted a hug. She stepped into it. It felt a little weird to hug a client, but tonight
, she was a friend; this wasn’t business. I had a brief twinge, wondering if this were a mistake, but I’d made friends of clients in the past, and I’d had friends who later hired me for projects. I decided it was okay, and I also thought she needed this, based on what she’d said earlier in the week.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said into my ear. “I was so nervous. I changed clothes a half dozen times.”

I pulled away and looked her up and down. “You look good, Dolores,” I assured her.

“I’m trying to figure out who I am,” she admitted. “I don’t like who I became while I was married. I feel like this is an
opportunity to reinvent myself.” She gestured. “This is part of it.” But then she looked away for a moment. “I don’t know if I can stop being so nervous, though.”

Those
statements seemed like non sequiturs, but I decided somehow they weren’t.

“Dolores, you’re a smart, attractive woman,” I said. I linked arms. “Come on. We can open a bottle of wine and get the food started.”

“I brought wine,” she said. “And I made a dessert.”

“Oh?”

“It has to go in the fridge. I should have asked. Maybe you don’t have room.”

“Dolores, I love to entertain, and so I have a second fridge downstairs. I keep it full of beverages, and it serves as overflow when I’m having a big crowd.” I pulled her to the kitchen. “Set that there. I’ll give you the tour, and we can put your dessert away.” I smiled. “What did you make?”

“Tiramisu,” she said. As usual, she looked nervous. “It’s an experiment. I used different flavors with this one.”

“Tiramisu?” I asked. “Really? You might be my new, best friend! Do we really have to share?”

She laughed then unpacked her bag. She had two bottles of wine, a cake pan, presumably filled with nummy tiramisu goodness, and two Tuperware containers full of cut up vegetables.

She looked at me apologetically. “You said I didn’t have to
bring anything if I came to help, but I just couldn’t show up empty-handed, and I didn’t know what you might want.”

“This is great,” I said. I grabbed the cake pan. “We’ll start in the basement. It’s just a basement, but we can put the dessert away, then I’ll show you the rest.”

My house wasn’t that big. The basement was unfinished, so there wasn’t much down there to show her. We returned to the main floor, which is set up for entertaining. The second floor held three bedrooms. One was equipped as a guest room, and one was my home office. I was thinking of creating one in the basement, as it would be cooler in the summer, but I wasn’t handy that way, and I hadn’t gotten around to hiring someone to do it for me.

“It’s lovely,” she said when we arrived at my bedroom. She looked at some of the pictures. “Who is this?”

I stepped over to her. “Mom and me. I think I was seven.” I pointed to another. “That’s my dad. I’m an only. They spoiled me rotten.”

“How are they now?”

“Both gone,” I said. “They died young.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I bet that was hard.”

“I miss them,” I admitted.

“There are no pictures of old boyfriends.” She was looking between the photos.

I thought carefully before answering. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, Dolores.”

She glanced at me. “I wondered. I don’t see any pictures of girlfriends, either.”

“I’m still friends with a few,” I admitted, “but when I let someone new see this room, I don’t want her wondering if I’m holding a candle for an ex.”

“
I burned all the photos I had of Dusty,” she said. “Is that terrible?”

“No,” I said. “No kids?”

“No,” she said. “No kids.”

We headed back downstairs. I pointed
to the wine opener and glasses. But then I held out my hand.

“What?”

“Access to the wine glasses means I get your keys. You get them back later if you’ve gone at least two hours with no alcohol. Otherwise you get a ride or take a cab.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

She didn’t argue but instead pulled them out of her purse and handed them to me.

“Thank you,” I said. I walked to the door leading to the garage. Mounted near the door was a key safe. I opened it, hung her keys up, and then closed it again. Dolores watched me the entire time.

“Wow.”

“Thank you for not arguing with me,” I said. “What kind of wine did you bring?”

While Dolores opened the wine, I said, “Dinner is, by and large, simple tonight. I am doing broiled salmon. We’ll prepare the marinade and get the fish soaking. Along with it we’ll have curried broccoli soup, fresh biscuits, and a salad. I think we’ll save your dessert for a break between rounds.

“What can I do to help?”

“Do you know how to peel broccoli?”

“You peel broccoli?”

I smiled. We washed our hands and the broccoli,
then I showed her how I peel it. “There’s probably an easier way, but if there is, I don’t know it. You’ll see there’s sort of a skin on it. We don’t want that in the soup, as it won’t puree very well.”

I worked on the salmon while Dolores began peeling the broccoli. It was a very time-consuming task, but the resulting soup was wonderful and well worth it. After that, I worked on the salad. Dolores peeled more
broccoli. Then I did up the mix for the biscuits. Finally, I helped Dolores with the last of the broccoli.

While we worked, we talked. We were just finishing when the bell rang. I thought about sending Dolores, and if she were any less nervous, I would, but I decided to take care of it myself. I really wish people would let themselves in for cards, but they never did, even though I’d asked more than once.

At the door were Dean and Mike. They were partners. Dean worked in I.T., like me, and Mike worked construction. They were an unlikely couple, about as different as two guys can be, but they loved each other to pieces, and they were good guests besides.

“I brought my tools,” Mike said. “Put me to work.”

I laughed. “You don’t want to help cook?”

“Oh honey,” said Dean, “You know him in a kitchen. If it’s not a slab of cow going onto the grill, he’s worthless.”

“The closet door in my office is sticking,” I said. “It’s all I’ve got for you. But Mike, you could just keep us company. You don’t have help cook. Come on. I’ll introduce you to Dolores.” I paused, then leaned closer to Dean. “Be nice to her. She’s the nervous type, and I don’t want you giving her your normal shit. She’s vulnerable right now.”

“Ooh
, hoo,” said Dean. “Protective of your new girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I said. “She’s straight.”

“Oh honey,” Dean said, “There’s straight, and then there’s straight.”

“Just be nice to her.”

“You wound me!” he protested. “I’m always nice.”

Mike scoffed at that. Dean was very good at separating the weak ones from the herd. Over the years, he’d chased three people away from our monthly card club.
Dean was fiercely protective of his friends, and he’d nursed me through a few broken hearts, and I loved him. But he could be a real jerk, too.

“I mean it, Dean,” I warned him. “Play nice.”

“All right, all right,” he said. “This week.”

I made a low, growling noise, but I knew it was the best I was going to get out of him. I led
the two of them to the kitchen and introduced them to Dolores. Mike hung out long enough to get a glass of wine, then said, “I’ll go take a look at that door.”

Dean actually played nice, although when he got a moment to whisper in my ear, he muttered, “There’s a photo in the dictionary.”

“Oh?” I asked, falling into his trap.

“Yes, it’s a photo of Dolores next to the definition of High Strung.”

I thought that was mean, but it was typical Dean, and actually pretty tame for him. And at least he hadn’t said it to her. “She’s very sweet,” I said. “She needs friends, Dean.”

He studied me. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“They aren’t my secrets, and if you do a thing to make her uncomfortable, you won’t get any of the tiramisu she made. I’ll see to it.”

“Maybe we should pour a few more glasses down her throat,” he suggested.

“Maybe you should let her regulate her own alcohol intake,” I countered.

“Maybe I should pour another glass or two down your throat. You’re a little high strung, too. Tell Daddy what’s really going on. You’ve got the
hots for the straight girl?”

“You know I learned my lesson about that, Dean. You’re the only one I have the
hots for these days.”

“What’s not to love?” he asked, preening a little. He really was quite gorgeous when he put in the slightest effort. We smiled at each other, and he gave me a quick kiss before stepping away.

“Dee,” he said. “Now that we know each other, you don’t mind if I call you Dee, do you?”

I turned to see how she would respond to that.

“Actually,” she said, “I wish you wouldn’t.” She sipped from her wine. She’d consumed the first glass quickly, but she was nursing the second, and she had a glass of iced tea she was working on, too.

Dean cocked his head. “Is there a story?”

“Someone I don’t care for used to call me that,” she explained. “Tell me, how did you and Mike meet?”

Oh, good one, I thought. Change the subject, and Dean was a typical guy. He loved to talk about himself.

Gabby and Elsa were the next to arrive, and I sent Dean to get the door. They arrived in time to avoid my “arrive by five or bring something” rule, flouncing into the kitchen and loudly demanding alcohol. They wouldn’t actually help cook — thank god — but they were good company.

They both stopped and stared at Dolores, and I heard Elsa, in her thick, German accent
, ask Dean sotto voce, “New girlfriend?”

“Si
d says no,” Dean replied, “but I don’t believe her.”

Dolores
overheard and immediately colored. Gabby and Elsa both noticed, and Elsa homed in on Dolores.

“Oh. Straight girl,” she said. “Are you embarrassed I thought you were gay? Do you think there’s something wrong with being gay?”

I spoke German, although my American accent was, according to Elsa, horrible. I told her in German, “Play nice, Elsa. I mean it.”

Dolores surprised me. She responded to Elsa, in German, and her accent was far better than mine. “I could do far worse than Sidney,” she said. “She takes care of me.”

Elsa stared at her then began laughing. She began babbling at Dolores in German, far faster than I could understand. It must have been too fast for Dolores, as well, as she held up her hands and replied, “
Sprechen Sie langsamer. Sprechen Sie langsamer.
” Slow down, slow down. Elsa poured herself a glass of wine and nudged Dean off the stool he’d been using, then proceeded to speak in careful German to Dolores. I lost my assistant, but Dolores had made a new friend, and so I didn’t worry about her.

Gabby came around the counter to give me a warm hug and a quick kiss. “What’s for dinner, and what’s her story?”

“Broiled salmon and curried broccoli soup,” I said. “And biscuits. She’s a client. She needs friends. We were short. I invited her.”

“She’s straight?”

“Yeah. If you want more, you need to get it from her.” I didn’t tell tales.

“Who else is coming?”

“Frank and Patty,” I said. They were the only straight couple amongst our regular players, although some of our substitutes were straight.

“We should think about expanding to three tables,” Gabby said.

“You know I use these parties as an excuse to cook, but I don’t want to cook for twelve.” Six was actually the perfect size, but eight was manageable. We needed eight for two tables.

“You don’t have to get so fancy. We could eat pizza.”

Dean must have heard that. “Shut up, Gabby,” he said. “Let Sid make what she wants.”

“You and Elsa could begin hosting a second night each month,” I suggested. It was said tongue in cheek. They hated hosting. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. They fought when they hosted. Elsa wanted everything to be perfect, and Gabby was happy to serve pizza on paper plates with paper towels for napkins.

Gabby looked over at Elsa and Dolores, speaking together in German. “Maybe Straight Girl could host.”