Page 9 of Confusing Cade
CADE
The speaker on my desktop phone chirped. “Mr. Weston?”
“Yes?” I turned away from my computer and toward Lois’s voice. “I’m here.”
“Your guests are in the lobby,” my longtime executive assistant replied. “Shall I send them in?”
“Right away.”
I locked my computer and stood, buttoning my black suit jacket as I gave my desk another glance. Thankfully, there was nothing there to sweep away before my visitors arrived. Still, it was worth one last look, even when dealing with people as feckless as the West Palm Beach city commissioners. You never knew their motivation, and I’d learned long ago to keep secrets.
All five commissioners strode into my office a few seconds later, along with a couple of staffers and legislative assistants who looked so young I might have easily mistaken them for interns. Lois and I led the group to the long conference table on the far side of my office. As we took our seats, she offered coffee and pastries from a selection on the sideboard and then exited the room.
“Can’t remember a time when I’ve had the pleasure of meeting with all five of you at once,” I said from my seat at the head of the glass table. I surveyed the array of officials aroundthe room, forcing myself to say their names in my head as I took in each one. “I feel flattered.”
“We’re flattered you took a meeting with us,” replied Commissioner Frances Fisher, and her comment was so sickeningly sweet I could almost see glaze drooling from her mouth.
She was the most prominent of the group, had served almost a decade on the commission, and hailed from a family that made its fortune in the sugar fields on the east side of the county. Now, she mostly made angel investments in tech startups while massaging a budding political career. She took a thick folio out of her briefcase and began to pass around some stapled packets of paper. “These are just a few pages I had my staff draw up this last week so we can all have a quick refresh on our goals for the meeting.”
“Excellent,” I said as the packet reached me. Lois hadn't given me any informationon the expectations of this meeting beyond a few vague comments, so seeing the namePalm Beach Promenadeembossed on the cover gave me a start. “Wait... this is about the Palm Beach Promenade?”
A smile crossed Frances's thin, wrinkly lips. “Yes.” Frances kept her gaze aimed at me. “If you’ll turn to page—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand, noticing several wide eyes and more than one open mouth from the other commissioners at the table. Why had they lied about their reason for this meeting? How many times had they rehearsed this? How much of this moment was orchestrated?
Probably all of it.
“Let’s get to the real reason you’re here,” I added. “There’s no need for a snow job.”
Frances recoiled a little, and I knew I’d gotten under her skin and regained some of the advantage in the room. This was my office, after all, and they were all here because I’d been willing totake their requested meeting. “We worked hard on putting this proposal together,” she said.
“I’m sure you did.” I moved my stack to the side, behind my coffee mug. “What do you want to do with the Promenade?”
The other commission members looked at each other, then at Frances.
Newt Regis cleared his throat. “Congratulations on how fast construction on the Promenade is moving.”
“Thank you.”
I straightened. Palm Beach Promenade was in the final stages of development and was already slated for a grand opening in six weeks, right in the middle of January. In fact, I was immensely proud of how well the project was going and how much progress my team had made in the last eighteen months. The Promenade would bring millions in revenue to the community each month as it brought tourists and travelers to the luxury shopping, waterfront condos, gourmet dining, a recreational marina, and a state-of-the-art fitness center. The long-forgotten space north of downtown West Palm Beach had never been so good.
“You all aren’t here to get an update on construction,” I said. “You all got that last month.”
A few of the commissioners glanced at each other.
“Just tell me, please.” I arched my eyebrow. “My time is running short.”
The comment was a little rude, but it was also true. I had a packed schedule that morning, and Lois had barely managed to wedge this meeting between another one with the Chamber of Commerce and a luncheon with some of the Samurai Group investors at the Bath and Tennis Club on the island. But even if I had an open schedule, that wasn’t really the point.
Hearing what they had to say was.
Newt nodded. “We want you to include Isabella Moretti in the opening ceremony next month.”
There it was.
I swallowed. “Isabella Moretti?”
“Gino Moretti’s daughter,” Frances supplied.
