Page 102 of Gifted & Talented

Then she got up, turned on the flashlight on her phone, and went the opposite way down the trail.

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Meredith wished almost immediately that she had taken Jamie with her, because hiking in the dark with only her phone for light was actively unsafe. She grew concerned about Jamie, about his well-being, which sickened her, as she had never concerned herself before with the possibility that Jamie could be lost or hurt or maimed and now there were so many possibilities actually, so many ways to come to harm.

She had never thought before that Jamie could be hit by a bus, that he could be struck by lightning, that he might not properly chew his food and so he could choke and thus be dead in an instant, a few seconds tops. Bodies were so fragile, dear god! She had never thought to wonder what she would do if something truly unfortunate happened to Jamie, not even something gruesome like death or murder but the mere possibility of pain, the loss of someone he loved, the stray feeling that he was not appreciated, the throb of knowing he was nothing in this life but insubstantial thread. Gossamer and on the wind, as vulnerable as the life’s work of a garden spider.

Meredith’s phone rang in her hand and she thought thank god, I’ll come back for you, let me just make sure you’re all right. She had never once had such thoughts about Cass, partially because Cass was a man, a man with a past that preceded her own. Cass had been made a man by some other woman, whereas Jamie was all insubstantial and unformed when they had met, just as Meredith had been. Jamie was practically fresh clay! Cass would take care of himself, he would be fine, some woman would love Cass so much, because Cass would save her and she would let him do it. Oh fuck, oh fuck, thought Meredith, feeling worse, not for the possibility that she would hurt Cass but for having wasted the years of devotion he could have had. “Are you okay?”

“Meredith?”

It was an unfamiliar voice and Meredith realized she had hallucinatedJamie’s name. She checked the screen of her phone again, realizing it was someone else, some unsaved Los Angeles number. “This is she. Who is this?”

“Meredith, it’s Kip Hughes. Sorry to call during your bereavement leave.”

“Kip,” Meredith breathed. Kip as in the CEO of Tyche. Kip as in the veritable god of magitech commerce; as in the person Meredith had tried so desperately to be; as in the person who was about to be utterly fucked as a direct result of those efforts. “Wow, I…” Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! “… didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“How are you doing, kiddo? Hanging in there?”

Kiddo?To a grown woman who had probably lost him billions of dollars. Fascinating.

“Oh, you know,” said Meredith ambiguously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She couldn’t understand how Kip was even making this call, how he was conducting business under these sorts of circumstances. “Is it dark where you are?”

“I’m in Scotland right now, thanks for asking. Crazy how early it gets dark up here, right?”

“Right,” she said, preposterously.

“Listen, I’ll make this quick.” Here it was, the guillotine falling. Meredith, we’ve got to cut ties. Meredith, we had a good run. Meredith, Tyche would like to go a different direction, one specifically away from you. “I hear you’re the anointed one, no surprise there. Must be a real mixed blessing—I can’t imagine how you must be reeling from all this. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to think about in the coming months, but I just want to put my bid in early. I think we’ve made a great team so far with Birdsong, Meredith, and I’d like to see how far this partnership can take us.”

“Sure,” said Meredith, who hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about.

“And you know, Meredith, candidly, between you and me, you’re probably aware—it’s not much of a secret that Wrenfare was struggling in recent years. Risky projects, legal drama, bit of a leadership crisis all around. A little birdie told me Thayer had been funding the company himself to try to keep the ship from going under.” A pause. Meredith realized she was supposed to speak, but didn’t know what to say. Also, she thought of Merritt Foster as a very large bird, oversized, perhaps a vulture. “No need to confirm or deny. The point is, we both know folks can smell blood in the water.A lot of suits are going to come and try to rip it up for parts, and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a lot of early interest from China.”

China? The country? Or the vaguely bigoted idea? Meredith had completely lost the thread of the conversation. When had they begun talking about Wrenfare? She thought they were talking about her company, which was something that was actually hers. For now.

“I had a few preliminary meetings with your father before he passed. I always admired Thayer, he was one of my personal heroes. I wish he’d taken my offer more seriously.”

Meredith said nothing.

“Listen, after the funeral let’s sit down for lunch, okay? I’ll get you my best offer by Monday end of day. I just want you to think about it, the possibilities here. I know it hurts to hear—I’m sure your father’s legacy means everything to you—but the ship is going down, Meredith. I find it hard to believe that Thayer would rather see Wrenfare go bankrupt than let his life’s work become part of the Tyche family.”

Meredith wanted to laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Naming rights,” she managed.

“Well, the Tyche brand is so strong… we could certainly discuss the possibility of Wrenfare carrying on operations with Tyche as the parent company. I’m sure, though, with all the press you’ll be facing in the coming weeks, you understand the benefit of keeping this on the down low.” Ah, there it was.Meredith, you fucked up, and now you owe me.“Tyche has the operational means and the industry respect to turn the ship around. Assuming we can come to an equitable agreement.”

Translation: You give me what I want, and in return, I won’t bury you alive.

“That’s a lot to process, though, and I’m sure it’s important for you to focus on your family for now, so let’s table it. I’ll have my assistant reach out to your team at Birdsong to set up a lunch for early next week? And listen, if there’s anything I can do for you—”

“Keep me out of prison” nearly fell out of Meredith’s mouth.

“—just let me know. I’m here for you, Meredith.” Kip Hughes, obviously her dearest friend and most dedicated investor, who cared only for her personal well-being. Kip, who only wanted to make them both a lot of money, to ensure their jets stayed docked and their thrones remained untoppled.

Except, what throne? Whose?

Suddenly she felt a flood of awareness, delayed recognition. A chilling heat sped through her veins, flooding her extremities. Belatedly, she understood what this was. The king is dead, long live the king.

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