Mason's Winter
Granted, I’m old enough to leave, but where would I go? I have no money, and I don’t get my actual degree for another month. One of my professor’s wife secretly offered me a job after I graduate at her law firm as a mail clerk. They both have even offered me a place to stay if I need it. I’ll take it as soon as I can, but I’ll pay them as much as I can for it until I can become independent and move.
I step into the dry-cleaning shop. “Hello, here for Ms. Grable’s garments?”
“Yes, Mrs. Gee.” She smiles and nods, walking to the back. I look at the calendar on the wall as I wait. It’s only the first of the month, the semester ends in less than two weeks. It feels like forever, but I have to hang in there.
“Hello, Winter, here is Ms. Grable’s dry-cleaning.” I sign for it, but Carissa prepays for it because they refuse to give me more than fifty bucks a week to get anywhere. I save twenty-five of it, using the rest for gas. So far, I have over a thousand dollars for my move.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gee.”
“Thank you, Ms. Winter.” I take the large load to the car, hoping not to drop it. Mrs. Gee’s son comes dashing out of the backroom and lends me a hand, opening the door for me. He’s about twelve and a total gentleman. “Thank you, Sam.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Winter. Drive safe.” He smiles then goes into the store. The drive back seems almost as bad as the first, but I get back to the house and see a sleek Mercedes parked in the driveway. Shaking my head, I walk inside and drop off her clothes into her room. I don’t hear anyone, so they must be in the study. I’m almost ready to sit down and study again when I realize I left my phone in the car. Damn it, I get up from my perch on the sofa and head back out to my car.
Chapter 2
Mason
I enter the Grable Mansion driveway, feeling annoyed that Mr. Grable insisted the meeting being held at his home. It’s too personal for the first encounter, but that’s probably how he thinks he can schmooze me into purchasing his company.
The Grable Textile empire has been going strong for forty years until now. Mr. Grable’s only child Carissa Grable has taken over, but she doesn’t want the business. And as if to prove her disdain for work, she’s sent the company hovering just above the red. He’s eager to sell the company because of it, but I wonder how eager. I don’t want it if I can’t get it for a reasonable if not beneficial price. My prosperity comes from making smart deals.
An older butler answers the door just as my hand comes up to knock. “Mr. Hunt, please come inside. Mr. Grable and Ms. Grable are waiting for you in his study.”
“Thank you,” I remark and step into the opulent foyer. I follow him down a long hallway into another corridor until we stop in front of a large wooden door.
He knocks, and the sound of clicking heels rapidly race toward us.
Ms. Grable opens the door. “Oh, Mason. I can call you Mason, right?” she continues without missing a beat. “We’re so glad to have you make the trip.” The butler disappears, but she barely moves enough for me to enter, intentionally creating a little physical contact. I hope my face didn’t give away my disgust with those antics.
“Please have a seat, both of you,” Mr. Grable orders, glaring at his obviously flirtatious daughter. She couldn’t have been any more brazen if she sat in my lap. “I’m sorry about having the meeting here, but I just had a doctor’s appointment, and I’m to be resting as much as possible.”
“It’s a little unorthodox for me, but it’s on my way into the office anyway. So please give me a rundown of the company atmosphere. I have the sales figures, but I want to know about your employees.” I’m well informed about the employee dynamic, but I want to hear it from them. I know they are trying to lull me into a false sense of security. The company needs an influx of cash, or it’ll go belly up in a year. I’m one of the few buyers able to do so.
Mr. Grable waxes on about his staff and how amazing they are, but I can see the look on his daughter’s face when he mentioned the female employees. She doesn’t like them very much, and I’m getting a distinct impression that it’s a territorial thing. For now, I’ll ignore her judgment on these people.
Since I had to be back at my office for a meeting with my chief financial officer, I ended the session before they could con me into coming to dinner. “Thank you for taking the time with us,” Mr. Grable says, standing to walk me out.