Page 33 of Tributary

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Asa

“YOU’RE CHIPPER TODAY.” Andrea slides into the seat next to me in the board room before our morning meeting.

I shrug, knowing I’m grinning like a fool, and I don’t really care. I also don’t care that Diana threw me out of her room at midnight, because she agreed to have dinner with me. And she gave me her number. I’ve already texted her ten times to remind her I beat her at darts.

Andrea squints and taps her pen against her teeth. “You haven’t had me send a handbag to anyone lately. And I basically lost frequent flier status at Barneys this spring. What’s up with you, boss?”

I slap the table as the rest of the team files in the room. “What’s up is our net worth, thanks to you and our team here.”

“Coward,” she mutters, standing up to call the meeting to order.

Several hours later, several million dollar richer, I flick the lid of my laptop closed, and look up to find my mother settling into the chair in my office.

“Well this is a surprise,” I tell her.

“Oh, Asa. I just stopped by on my way from meeting the caterer. I thought I’d ask how you’re doing getting rid of your chametz.”

I lean back in my chair. “Since when are we keeping Kosher for Passover?”

My mother flushes. “Honestly, Asa. We always follow the rules.”

“Mother,” I pat her hand. “You serve lox and bagels as we’re getting ready for shul most years.”

“Well if you must know,” she says, fanning herself. “I’ve been talking to the rabbi.”

“About…”

“His daughter, of course!” My mother smooths her skirt and looks quite pleased with herself. “You’re 32 years old, Asa. It’s time you settle down.”

This again. I sigh. “Mother, I don’t really see myself marrying the rabbi’s daughter.”

She seems flustered. “Well just who do you see yourself with then? Certainly not that lawyer woman you brought to the club this winter!”

“I told you Becca was just a friend.”

My mother harrumphs and moans a bit more about my need to settle down, followed up by several reminders that I have to also work my ass off to honor the family business and do better than my father before me. She tugs at her pearls for awhile and swishes out of the office.

I take a look over our portfolio, feeling no small sense of satisfaction at how we’ve diversified this year. Seven new industries this quarter alone. And I’m getting involved less and less on the day to day now that we are fully staffed with invested partners. I scan through each business until I get to Epi-D, and I frown.

I stand and walk across the hall, rapping on Andrea’s door frame.

“You usually bellow,” she says, not looking up from her monitor.

“I’ll work on not doing that,” I tell her. Andrea is dedicated to her work. And I know she’s been delegating a ton of the shit work I send her to the staff of assistants she’s got lined up in cubicles down the hall. I remind myself I need to give her a raise and also stop treating her like she’s still my intern. I’ve sort of been ignoring her growth here…but she’s got info I need. “I was just wondering if you had any more info on Buford and Epi-D.”

“Ugh!” She groans. “Yes. It’s gross.” She rummages in her desk drawer and pulls out a folder. “This is a bunch of news articles about Epi-D, a cannabidiol drug the FDA approved for epilepsy. Which you know, of course, because Wexler Holdings was an initial investor in Epi-D.” I nod. “All the research leading up to the approval was conducted at Princeton, and you’re right—the name Diana Crawford is all over the studies and trials. Right up until the product was patented.”

“So how the hell would Buford go about eliminating Diana from the patent? Why the hell didn’t she intervene?”

Andrea shrugs. “Beats me. But here’s her signature on paperwork giving that asshole full access to the intellectual property leading to the formation of Epi-D.

I lean back in my chair. “That just doesn’t make sense.”

She taps the table with her nails. “She signed this affidavit, and it’s notarized. Either she did it willingly or he forged her signature or something similar.”

“Thanks for all this, Andrea.”

“I wish I had something more conclusive for you.”

I stuff the folder in my bag and stand up. “I’m just going to have to talk to him myself, I think.”

Not until after my date with Diana, though.

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