the last traces of soap from his face with the towel. “Maybe it might help you to know that I'm a simple man; what you see is all there is to me. I like a lot of things, but above all else I appreciate honesty and directness. If I ask a question, I want a straight from the hip answer. I can't stand pussyfooting or beating around the bush or excruciatingly polite attempts to avoid the issue. You can deal with me square up and not worry about losing your job or your head.”
“That's good to know. If I might ask … Do the same parameters apply if Miss Lindsay is present?”
God, he felt halfway human again. He picked up his coffee cup and quickly drank what remained. “If she can't take it, then I'm prepared to throw myself between you and her. I won't let her hurt you.”
In the mirror, he saw Ben blink and purse his lips. After a moment, he ventured, “Miss Lindsay is a very good woman, sir, and while I'm grateful for her willingness to employ me, I feel obligated to point out that she does have a temper and that she can be quite headstrong.”
“A little like a comanchero,” Jackson muttered.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Never mind,” he said, heading back toward the desk and the siren call of the coffeepot. “Just understand that I'm bigger and meaner than she is and that I can handle her.”
Ben beat him to the silver service. Refilling Jackson's cup and fighting a smile, he said quietly, “I've never seen anyone ‘handle’ Miss Lindsay.”
“I'm selling tickets. Want one?”
Ben smiled. “It should be a spectacular show, sir. I do believe I'll take one—since you offered. How much are they?”
“The price is honesty. And a slight shift in allegiance.”
Instantly, Ben sobered. He took a step back and met Jackson's gaze for a long moment as the thoughts and choices paraded through the clear depths of his eyes. Jack noted that they darkened as the decision was made.
“You may well be my employer now, Mr. Stennett,” he began, slowly, deliberately, “but Miss Lindsay has been my employer a good many years. There will be some matters that I will never feel comfortable discussing with you and you'll have to accept that.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “I also understand the reality of Miss Lindsay's business situation and I feel honor bound to do whatever I can to ensure that she emerges from the situation with as much of her world intact as possible. What I share with you regarding the business will be offered in that spirit. Is that acceptable to you?”
“And on the assumption that I'm a fair and decent man who will do right by her,” Jackson added.
“Yes, sir.”
“I failed to mention how much I value loyalty, Ben. Your terms are admirable as well as acceptable.”
Benjamin Tipton sighed in apparent relief and smiled. “Yesterday you asked about the wheel coming off the wagon. I think the slippage began about fifteen years ago. I see certain patterns in the books that have always intrigued me.”
“You have my attention, Ben. Keep going.”
As Jackson leaned back against the desk, Ben continued, choosing each word carefully, “If you go back through the records for the last fifteen years, you'll see thata considerable number of businesses and properties have been purchased and sold over that time. This, in itself, is commonplace. But what I see in the numbers is that some properties do very well for a time and then show sudden and precipitous drops in revenues.”
“Let me guess. At which point they're sold for a net loss.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It happens in business.” Jackson sipped his coffee. “What makes you look twice at it?”
“There are roughly thirty-seven such sales.”
Thirty-seven? I'd've looked more than twice.
“That's too many; a little over two a year,” Jackson mused aloud. “The law of averages doesn't usually work that hard and long against a good manager.”
“And all thirty-seven sales have been fairly evenly divided between only
“That's good to know. If I might ask … Do the same parameters apply if Miss Lindsay is present?”
God, he felt halfway human again. He picked up his coffee cup and quickly drank what remained. “If she can't take it, then I'm prepared to throw myself between you and her. I won't let her hurt you.”
In the mirror, he saw Ben blink and purse his lips. After a moment, he ventured, “Miss Lindsay is a very good woman, sir, and while I'm grateful for her willingness to employ me, I feel obligated to point out that she does have a temper and that she can be quite headstrong.”
“A little like a comanchero,” Jackson muttered.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Never mind,” he said, heading back toward the desk and the siren call of the coffeepot. “Just understand that I'm bigger and meaner than she is and that I can handle her.”
Ben beat him to the silver service. Refilling Jackson's cup and fighting a smile, he said quietly, “I've never seen anyone ‘handle’ Miss Lindsay.”
“I'm selling tickets. Want one?”
Ben smiled. “It should be a spectacular show, sir. I do believe I'll take one—since you offered. How much are they?”
“The price is honesty. And a slight shift in allegiance.”
Instantly, Ben sobered. He took a step back and met Jackson's gaze for a long moment as the thoughts and choices paraded through the clear depths of his eyes. Jack noted that they darkened as the decision was made.
“You may well be my employer now, Mr. Stennett,” he began, slowly, deliberately, “but Miss Lindsay has been my employer a good many years. There will be some matters that I will never feel comfortable discussing with you and you'll have to accept that.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “I also understand the reality of Miss Lindsay's business situation and I feel honor bound to do whatever I can to ensure that she emerges from the situation with as much of her world intact as possible. What I share with you regarding the business will be offered in that spirit. Is that acceptable to you?”
“And on the assumption that I'm a fair and decent man who will do right by her,” Jackson added.
“Yes, sir.”
“I failed to mention how much I value loyalty, Ben. Your terms are admirable as well as acceptable.”
Benjamin Tipton sighed in apparent relief and smiled. “Yesterday you asked about the wheel coming off the wagon. I think the slippage began about fifteen years ago. I see certain patterns in the books that have always intrigued me.”
“You have my attention, Ben. Keep going.”
As Jackson leaned back against the desk, Ben continued, choosing each word carefully, “If you go back through the records for the last fifteen years, you'll see thata considerable number of businesses and properties have been purchased and sold over that time. This, in itself, is commonplace. But what I see in the numbers is that some properties do very well for a time and then show sudden and precipitous drops in revenues.”
“Let me guess. At which point they're sold for a net loss.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It happens in business.” Jackson sipped his coffee. “What makes you look twice at it?”
“There are roughly thirty-seven such sales.”
Thirty-seven? I'd've looked more than twice.
“That's too many; a little over two a year,” Jackson mused aloud. “The law of averages doesn't usually work that hard and long against a good manager.”
“And all thirty-seven sales have been fairly evenly divided between only
Similar Books
