บท 121: Vance - 12.3
After leaving the boardroom, I didn't waste a second. My thoughts were a whirlwind, but I knew what had to be done. I walked briskly back to my office, the heavy wooden door creaking as I pushed it open. I grabbed the business card from where I threw it and walked over to my secretary.
As I approached Sarah's desk, I caught her eye.
"Sarah," I said as I dropped the card in front of her, "Tell them to meet us for lunch, The Arcade."
If we were going to dethrone a king, we should eat where the King does. There was something about that idea that felt just right.
Sarah nodded, the rotary already turning as she began dialing. I paused at the door, turning back to her.
"You come too." I added, "Oh, and tell the paralegals they can eat wherever. On us. Just they better have 25 hours a day ready soon."
"Got it," she replied.
I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking as I tried to wrap my head around the events of the morning. It felt like we were on the brink of something big, but the road ahead was treacherous. If we misplay our hand then the whole table could fold.
I was the last to leave, watching from my window as the board and everyone else loaded into cars, cabs, or onto the sidewalk. I ran up the stairs and opened the roof access. My feet left the building, and I flew a few blocks south to the corner of South Main and Patterson. The cars seemed still as I soared over the concrete jungle.
The smells of sizzling food and the hum of conversation filled the air of the Arcade. I made my way to the counter, where a young waitress was expertly balancing a tray of glasses.
"Excuse me, miss," I said.
She turned to me with a bright smile. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"I need to reserve some tables," I started, glancing around the busy room. "I've got a group coming in, about..." I paused to do a quick headcount in my mind. "Seventeen people."
Her eyes widened slightly, and she raised an eyebrow. "Seventeen? That's quite the crowd."
"Yeah, it's a bit of a last-minute gathering," I admitted, giving her a sheepish grin. "Think you can help me out?"
She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. "I think we can make it work. Might take a bit to clear some things, but I'll make sure you're all set up."
"Appreciate it," I said, feeling a bit of the weight lift off my shoulders. "Just let me know if you need anything from me."
"No problem, sir. I'll get started right away." She turned to head back toward the dining area, but then paused and looked back at me. "You want to go ahead and order something while you wait? Might as well get a head start."
I nodded, "Yeah, I'll take a triple cortado and... let's start with that fried peanut butter and banana with bacon."
"Coming right up," she said with a wink. "I'll keep those tables ready for you."
"Thanks," I replied, watching as she moved through the crowd, already pulling tables together for the group. I took a seat at the bar, feeling a bit more at ease.
After a couple minutes, a corner booth under the windows opened up and I relaxed into it. I lounged my arm along the top of the booth and leaned back.
As I sipped my cortado, savoring the rich, bold flavor, I caught sight of a sleek Bentley pulling up to the curb outside. The chauffeur, dressed in a crisp uniform, quickly moved to open the door. Two board members—Lawson among them—straightened their jackets as they stepped onto the sidewalk, their eyes scanning the surroundings before settling on the entrance to the Arcade.
I took another sip of my cortado. I needed the boost, but the coffee just was not perking me up like it used to.
The waitress returned with my sandwich, the scent of fried peanut butter and banana with bacon wafting up, momentarily distracting me. "Here you go, sir. Your group should be soon, I take it?"
I nodded, glancing back at the Bentley as the men made their way inside. "Yeah, looks like they're already starting to show up."
"How'd you beat us here?" Lawson asked, raising an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat.
I wiped my hands on a napkin and stood to greet them, offering a half-smile. "I took a shortcut."
One of the other board members, a man with a stern face and a neatly trimmed mustache, chuckled. "Guess that makes you the early bird, huh? What's the spread looking like?"
"Pretty good," I replied, gesturing to the tables the waitress was still setting up. "I made sure we'd have enough room."
He nodded.
Sarah entered the Arcade with one of the board members, both laughing as they made their way to the tables. I watched as they took seats at an adjacent table, still chuckling about something I hadn't caught.
"Looks like someone's in a good mood," I said, raising an eyebrow as they settled in.
Sarah grinned, waving off the comment with a lighthearted shrug.
The board member with her, a middle-aged man with a thinning hairline and a perpetually amused expression, nodded in agreement. "If we're about to overturn the boat, might as well enjoy the calm before the storm, right?"
I chuckled, appreciating their efforts to lighten the mood. "Fair enough. We could all use a little distraction."
A cab pulled up outside, releasing another of our group into the restaurant. The last few members of the board walked crossed the street and waited at the door for a separate table to open up next to our set.
I motioned to the waitress as she passed by, "Another cortado, please."
She nodded with a smile, jotting it down on her notepad. Around the table, the rest of the group was settling in, placing their own orders.
I watched as she began to set down the first round of drinks—Bloody Marys for those who needed something stronger, followed by a bottle of Coppola Noir for Lawson and the others at his table.
The waitress brought over the Riverside pizza to Sarah and her gentleman, the smell of sausage and spicy marinara wafting up, mingling with the scent of freshly baked crust. At another table, a Greek pizza was placed down. Then more drinks for the stragglers from the office.
The door swung open again, and I saw Clara step inside. She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the room before landing on our group. A mixture of surprise, concern, and almost relief crossed her face when she saw me, and then the rest of the board. Her posture stiffened slightly as she approached.
I rose to greet her, offering a small smile. "Clara, glad you could make it."
She looked around, taking in the familiar faces. "Vance... what's going on?"
"We're here to discuss the future," I replied, my tone deliberately vague as I gestured to the open seat beside me. "Join us."
Lastly, Henry and Anthony arrived, their entrance marked by a brief lull in conversation as everyone turned to acknowledge them. They exchanged nods with the other board members before finding their seats.
As the last orders were sent in, the atmosphere lightened. Plates were passed around, and the aroma of fresh pizza and other dishes filled the air. Our group, now complete, settled into a comfortable rhythm of eating and bantering, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten.
As the last bites were taken and the final sips of wine were savored, the waitress began clearing the plates, leaving behind only a few scattered crumbs and empty glasses. The chatter gradually died down.
Henry leaned back in his chair, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "Well, that was a hell of a meal."
"Good food always makes for good conversation," Lawson added.
Lawson leaned back in his chair, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.
"You know, when I was about ten years old, my family had this old farm out in the country," he started, his voice carrying the weight of fond memories. "It wasn't much, just a few acres and a barn that always seemed to be falling apart. We didn't have much money, but we had plenty of hard work to keep us busy."
He paused, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. "One summer, we had a terrible storm. The kind that knocks down trees and floods the fields. When it was over, we went out to survey the damage, and that's when we noticed that the old barn had taken a real beating. The roof had caved in, and one of the walls was leaning so far to the side, it looked like it might collapse any minute."
"Now, my dad was a stubborn man, didn't like asking for help. So, he decided we'd fix it ourselves. I remember standing there, staring at that barn, thinking there was no way we could save it. The damage was too extensive, the structure too weak. But my dad, he just rolled up his sleeves, looked at me, and said, 'Son, sometimes you have to take apart what's broken to build something stronger.'"
Lawson's gaze drifted over the faces around the table, ensuring he had their full attention before he went on. "So, that's what we did. We tore down the parts that were beyond repair, piece by piece. It was hard work, and there were times when it felt like we were making things worse instead of better. But once we had cleared away the damaged wood, we could see the strong foundation that was still standing."
He leaned forward, his eyes sharp with meaning. "And with that solid foundation, we rebuilt the barn, stronger and more resilient than before. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't quick. But it taught me a valuable lesson—sometimes, you have to tear down what's no longer serving you to build something that will stand the test of time."
Lawson paused, letting the words sink in. "And that's where we find ourselves now. The storm has passed, and we're staring at a barn that's seen better days. Lafayette... he's the storm that's torn us apart. But what we have now is an opportunity. We can either cling to the remnants of what was, or we can roll up our sleeves, take apart what's broken, and build something stronger. Something that honors what Michael Pembrose stood for."
He sat back, folding his arms across his chest, the weight of his story lingering in the air. "So, what's it gonna be? Do we let this barn fall, or do put all the panels back on?"
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