Page 1 of Phillip

PROLOGUE

Twelve Years Ago

Harvard College

Ashley Cartwright stood in the center of the business school auditorium stage and fumbled over the well-practiced lines. For weeks, she’d prepared for the mock presentation to the shareholders and the board. But now, instead of the memorized lines that detailed the success of the mock business she’d worked on all semester, she only replayed the polite applause from her class after Dean Dunbar had introduced their special guest.

Famed lifestyle guru and media mogul Agatha Cartwright handled the limelight as though she were born for the attention, and with an air of perfection, she’d gracefully taken her seat next to the dean. Her mother had shown no sign of recognition when Ashley was randomly called as the first student to present.

Turning to glance at the presentation projected on the screen behind her, Ashley regathered her thoughts. “Several factors contributed to the company’s growth.” Sweat dampened the back of her neck, under her hair. She’d simply blown it out this morning. If she’d known she would come face-to-face with her mother, she would’ve worked to add volume and a hint of shine, something to draw attention from her unlined lips. They’d talked this morning! Not about anything great—mostly about the mistakes Ashley was making in her life—but her mother could’ve warned her. “Including a focus on pricing and cost control.”

Her mother pinched her lips and jotted on her notepad.What did I do wrong now?She wondered if her mother had taken notes like that earlier when they were on the phone.

Ashley hated public speaking. She loved working behind the scenes. Ensuring that her mock company was a well-oiled machine had been fulfilling, but explaining the process was simply hell.

“Including p-pricing and cost control…” she stammered. Murmurs and whispers mixed with poorly disguised laughter. Humiliation crawled up her back. “I mean, with production volume rising quickly…”

Her mother continued writing feverishly.

A strange sound mixed with the students’ laughter. She heard something like a “baaa” like an animal.Ignore everyone.Don’t watch Mother.Ashley clenched her clammy hands, checked the presentation over her shoulder, and continued. “Meeting consumer demands.”

“Baaaa.”

The bleeting “baaa” called again as her peers quieted. Then the whispers began again. The next few seconds in her presentation were vital. The explanation of her company’s success was the largest part of her grade. Failing in this very specific moment would’ve been the equivalent of a comic ruining his punch line.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, catching sight of her boyfriend at the top of the auditorium. Her heart squeezed. He’d promised he would be there, ready to make her laugh and relax during her speech. She rebounded at his encouraging smile, able to ignore the niggling concern that her mother would notice her fingernails weren’t manicured.

“As demand grew, word of mouth grew.” Her confidence grew. She clicked the button for the next slide. “The first peak on the chart marks organic growth. The second…” She accidentally glanced at the first row. Disapproval shadowed Mother’s gaze. “The second—”

“Baaa. Baaa.”

Another wave of murmuring laughter cascaded down the auditorium.

“Shhh! Easy!” A man’s quiet commands mixed with the growing laughter.

Some students turned in their seats while others pointed toward the noises.

Dean Dunbar apologized to her mother and then turned from his front-row seat. “Quiet down.”

“Stop. Stay,” ordered the unseen man. “Stay.”

Concern skipped across Ashley’s skin. That sounded like Phillip issuing dog commands. She scanned the room but couldn’t see him anymore.

Gasps and giggles mixed with the bleating sound. An animal—a goat—clip-clopped quickly down the stairs, seemly unfazed. Phillip raced behind the goat, his arms open as though he were going to catch it. Ashley blinked, unable to make sense of the disaster but sick to her stomach that her boyfriend was behind it.

Her mother stood, and Ashley saw the exact moment of recognition. Disgust and disapproval creased the woman’s forehead. Ashley glanced from her mother to her boyfriend and back again until he and the goat were in the center of the auditorium.

“What are you doing?” Ashley hoarsely cried.

Phillip stopped and gave an apologetic shrug. “I brought you a sensitivity goat.”

Her jaw fell. She wasn’t sure if her shock or anger was stronger. “You didn’t…”

“Mr. Blackthorne,” Dean Dunbar called out. “Is that yourgoat?”

“Baaa. Baaa.” The goat turned to face the auditorium. Several students stood to help Phillip. The goat spun and ran, skirting back and forth along the raised stage. Then it stopped at the stairs that led onto the stage and lifted a hoof to the first step.

“Don’t,” Ashley whispered.

---