Page 34 of Perfect Assumption
And damnit, I also really didn’t want to leave the office wondering what the hell is going on, but once a year I have to meet with this woman. I have no choice. It’s one meeting I abhor, but it has to be done. After all, not just my livelihood depends on the outcome of it.
Who knew our grandfather was a financial savant? As I approach the table with a sick feeling, I recall the letter my father left along with his will.Your grandfather thought it was a fun idea to support one of your deceased relatives who worked at J&J. He also dabbled in other stocks when, and I’m quoting him, ‘this newfangled S&P 500 was created.’ I remember him bitterly complaining the S&P 500 gave him too much free time, so he began to trade the stocks he amassed. He was a whip-smart man who set up our family for several lifetimes over. He sold J&J and many others long before my father passed away and I inherited this. Don’t worry, the portfolio we’ve left you is diversified enough that you should be able to live on the interest alone for generations.
Why didn’t we tell you? Well, let’s be honest. Your mother and I wanted you both to appreciate hard work is important. We didn’t want to raise two children who had egos the size of this account.
Carys, Ward, let me be clear. We haven’t been entirely altruistic. We didn’t live entirely off our own money. Occasionally, we dipped into the fund a wee bit. We purchased our home in New York, cars, both of your educations. We donated a great deal to charities. But we were blessed not because of money, but because we had both of you. Every day, the both of you were our truest wealth, not the number of zeros in the account. Hopefully, you felt that.
Now, I hope we’ve been with you long enough to explain everything. If not, your mother and I are deeply sorry about the shock this must be. But this will be a comfort to know you never have to worry about your futures. But we want you to remember nothing replaces finding love.
There’s nothing that fulfills your soul in quite the same way.
We will always love you both.
The words of his letter whisper through my brain. Despair floods me when my eyes collide with the savvy blue ones of the brunette the maître d’ steps back for me to greet. Fortunately, Lynne Bradbury—stock market protégé for Bristol Brogan Houde—embraces the eccentricities of her clients. After enduring ten minutes during our first meeting in her office before I started sweating profusely as she presented my portfolio—pages upon pages of charts and breakdown of numbers that many corporations in America would love to boast about—I abruptly stood and asked, “Have you eaten?”
Lynne, ridiculously astute, shrugged. “I could manage a bite.”
It’s how we ended up at Le Bernadin without a reservation. And every time since. She no longer calls me to review our portfolio; she just schedules lunch. It softens the blow of this meeting in a way I don’t deserve since I earned my money the worst way imaginable.
My parents died for me to inherit it.
Immediately, she stands and holds out her hand. “A pleasure to see you, Ward.”
Since I can’t return the sentiment, I return her shake before sliding behind her to hold her chair as she reseats herself. “How was your trip to Dubai?” I ask, recalling why our meeting had to be delayed until after my birthday.
“Fruitful. Bristol was pleased. And you? How’s your sister?”
“Good. Better now.” I think of all the animosity between the two of us we’ve cleared up. Then I frown, realizing how much I’ve likely just confused everything again today, but not with her.
Lynne’s brow raises, silently prompting me to continue. I decide to share something personal that happened not too long ago. “My nephew, Ben, developed an aversion to peas and decided to decorate her kitchen with them.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I reach for the water goblet in front of me. I take a quick drink before asking Lynne, even as her laughter peals out, “Do you share a similar distaste for them?”
“I’ve been at too many family dinners involving children not to find that amusing. Has she avoided being hit in the face?”
I nod. “But not David. He took a direct hit to the eye. Complained about it the rest of the meal. Carrie told him to suck it up. Completely egged Ben on. Funniest thing I saw in quite a while.”
Lynne’s about to respond when our waiter comes over to announce today’s specials. I glance down at my menu briefly before ignoring the words and the waiter’s complicated spiel. “Do you have any preference?” I ask Lynne, knowing the answer will be the same as always.
“Not at all. I’m not picky about food.”
I pluck her menu. “Chef’s special for two.”
“Wine accompaniment?”
I arch a brow at my companion, who chimes in, “I’m fine with sparkling water.”
I hand the waiter our menus. “As am I. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Burke.” He scurries off to place our order, giving me and Lynne a few uninterrupted minutes.
“So, is there anything we need to know?”
“There was a ten percent overall increase in the value of the portfolio. I can get into specifics if you want.”
My lips part. “You mean to tell me we’re worth…more?” Lynne had some ideas for some speculative stocks she wasn’t quite certain about at our last meeting. I honestly was hoping it would decrease our portfolio.
“What can I say, Ward? I’m damn good at my job.”
