Page 20 of Nash Falls
“Tomorrow, Mr. Nash. As you said, you’re abusyman, and I don’t like conducting business over the phone any more than I do overzooms.”
Dickey hung up on him and Nash slowly set his phone down on his desk.
Someone knocked on his door. “Yes?”
His heart skipped a beat when the door opened revealing Rhett Temple.
He rose so fast he smacked his knee on the desk’s edge.
“Rhett, what… I mean, how are you doing?”
Rhett came forward, looking deeply embarrassed. “First I want to apologize for missing the funeral. They screwed up my calendar and had the wrong day listed. I’m really sorry. I hope things went as well as possible under the circumstances.”
“Yes, yes, they did,” answered Nash, who was actually thankful that his boss had not been there to witness the personal insults his executive VP had suffered. “And it’s no big deal.”
“Itisa big deal, Walter. It was your father. Were you two close?”
“We sort of drifted apart as the years went by.”
Rhett perched on the edge of Nash’s desk. “I also had flowers delivered to your house this morning. They must have missed you?”
“Yes, but I’m sure Judith or Maggie was there to receive them. Thank you.”
“And how is that daughter of yours doing? I remember when she interned here one summer. She is smart, very quick to pick up on things.”
“Maggie wants to be a social media influencer and online content creator instead of going to college.”
“She’ll do great. And let’s face it, Walter, appearances count. And she’s got all that, just like her mother.”
“Well, we’ll see how it turns out.”
Rhett looked around Nash’s office. “I wish my space were this tidy.”
“I like things to be organized. Makes me more efficient.”
“Speaking of, your earnings quarter is shaping up to be a blow-out one. Thanks for all the hard work and contributions to the bottom line.”
Nash managed a smile. “That’s what you pay me for. And the work is… challenging, and I like a challenge.”
Like maybe bringing you and this place down brick by brick, he thought.
“Well, carry on, and, again, my deepest condolences.”
“Thank you.”
Rhett turned his back on Nash, gave an exaggerated eye roll to the wall, and left.
Nash stood there rubbing his knee and wondering what the hell all that was about.
It was clear to him that Rhett had never intended to go to his father’s funeral. So, what were the apology and the flowers for? Wait, did he know the FBI was sniffing around and he was wondering if they might have contacted Nash?
The weight of all of this collapsed his slender legs, and he fell heavily back into his chair. He looked at his phone, where Reed Morris’s number was listed underXin his contacts. Should he call him? And tell him what? That his chief target had apologized about the funeral and sent flowers? Why would Morris give a crap about that? The federal agent probably wouldn’t see any connection or threat to his case from flowers and apologies.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but who the hell can blame me?
He concentrated on his work, which included a slew of brief in-person meetings with various members of his team, emails to read and write, Zooms, and phone conversations in different time zones going over a dozen pending deals, and a host of early due diligence work on several potential acquisitions. Before he knew it, it was well past lunchtime. Nash normally had his secretary call something in for him and then ate at his desk. But today he decided to stretch his legs and go for a walk.
He headed to a deli a few blocks from his office and got a pastrami and rye, some Old Bay chips, a giant pickle, and a cup of black coffee. He ate at a white plastic table in the back of the shop while brooding over his predicament.
