As it had for nearly two weeks now, the tour was continuing to go very well, and Callan was ecstatic when they got a fax from her office in New York, telling them that the order book was oversubscribed ten to one now, which meant that they had ten times more demand for stock than they needed.
By evening they were ready to move on, and they flew back to London that night. And by the time they got to Claridge's, even the indefatigable Callan looked exhausted. It had been a long day, after flying all night before they arrived. And the next morning, they had to be fresh to make their presentation again in London. Callan was pleased with everything, the tour was going extremely well, better than he had ever dreamed, and he had Meredith to thank for it.
“What are you up to tonight, Meredith?” he asked as they checked in, and a liveried desk clerk showed them to their rooms. Charlie McIntosh was on another floor, but their rooms were side by side.
“What am I up to?” she asked. “Sleep, I hope. I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I thought I'd go to bed so I don't screw things up for you tomorrow.”
“There's no risk of that. Do you want to go out for something to eat?” Even as tired as she knew he had to be, he wanted to go out. Callan Dow liked to work hard all day, and then go out to play at night.
“Not tonight, thanks. I'm going to order room service, and then hit the sack.”
“Party pooper. What about dinner at Harry's Bar, and then Annabel's tomorrow night?”
“Where do you get your energy, Cal? Don't you ever get tired?”
“Look who's talking. You never stop,” he said admiringly.
“I think I just have,” she said, looking tired. The jet lag and the long day and long flight had finally caught up with her, and she could hardly keep her eyes open as the porter set down her briefcase and her bag, and then let Cal into his room. Hers was handsomely done in Art Deco style. His was all done in pale blue taffeta with pastel chintz covered in flowers. And they both looked like they'd been recently redone. But Meredith would have been happy to sleep in a haystack that night, and she wanted to be fresh for the next day. They were doing their first presentation at eight A.M. But she didn't feel as pressured here as she had in New York. The European market was of slightly less interest to them. Traditionally, they tried to keep the size of the European investments down. It was important to have them participate for the long haul, but they preferred to keep the bulk of hot IPOs for U.S.-based investors, who would spin the stock more often, generating more commissions.
Cal wandered back into her room after they had brought him his bags. He tried to convince her to go out again, but she said she was in for the night. And a little while later, she heard his door open and close, and knew he had gone out. She was in bed and sound asleep by nine o'clock. And she was bright and cheery the next day when they met for breakfast.
“What did you do last night?” she asked him over scones and coffee in the dining room. His CFO hadn't joined them yet.
“I caught up with some old friends. I know a lot of people here, some of them through my ex-wife.”
“I was dead to the world by nine.” She smiled at him.
“We'll do better than that tonight,” he smiled, as Charlie McIntosh arrived at their table. He was in a fairly decent mood for once, and the three of them chatted amiably as Charlie ordered sausages and eggs. And by eight o'clock they were making their now familiar presentation. It was a huge hit, just as all the others had been.
They met with private investors at noon, and at one o'clock made their presentation again over lunch. And by four o'clock, all three of them were back at the hotel. Charlie had plans to spend the weekend in France with friends, and they were to meet up again in Geneva on Sunday night. In an uncharacteristically generous gesture, Charlie wished them a nice weekend before he left, and Meredith allowed herself to hope that it meant he was mellowing a little.
“Ready for a night on the town?” Cal asked as he walked her back to her room at five. They had reservations at Harry's Bar at eight o'clock, and were still planning to go to Annabel's to dance after dinner.
“Are you sure you don't mind wasting time with me?” Meredith asked comfortably. “You can probably have a lot more fun with a real date,” she said honestly, they were like brother and sister by now, and they both seemed to enjoy it.
“I'd rather have dinner with a good friend anytime,” he smiled, as they stood in the hall and chatted a little bit about their afternoon. The presentations had gone even better than expected.
“I thought Charlie did better here too,” Meredith said charitably. Even at his warmest, Charlie McIntosh was no ball of fire. But at least he didn't seem as truculent as he had in Los Angeles and New York. Cal said he had noticed it too. “It's a shame it took him so long to warm up.” Callan didn't comment on it, and after a few more minutes, they went back to their respective rooms. He said he'd come by to pick her up at a quarter to eight, which gave her plenty of time to unwind, relax, and take a bath. And as soon as she slipped into it, the phone rang in her room.
She was wrapped in a towel and had wet hair when she answered it, and she smiled the moment she heard the voice on the other end. It was Steve.
“How's it going, sweetheart?” He sounded in good spirits, it was early Friday afternoon for him.
“Everything is great,” she answered with a broad smile, pulling the towel closer around her in the air-conditioned room. “We're almost through, and we're oversubscribed ten to one. It's a sure green shoe on this one.” He knew that meant they'd be adding five to ten percent more shares. After a dozen years of her Wall Street career, the jargon was familiar to him. “Callan is really pleased.”
“Is his CFO still being a pain in the ass?” he asked with interest.
“He's been a little better here. He actually smiled today, he left for the weekend with some friends in France. It's kind of nice to get him off our necks.” Most of the time he was like having a crabby grandfather around. But Steve didn't sound pleased to hear it.
“Does that mean you and Dow are alone?”
“More or less. Along with about eight million people in London, I think it's pretty safe.” She was amused by his concern.
“You know what I mean. He's not coming on to you, is he, Merrie?”
“Of course not. He's smarter than that. And by now, we're good friends. After these due diligence tours, you either end up best friends for life, or you never want to lay eyes on each other again. He's been a good sport, and I think he'll stay a good friend. I hope one of these days you'll meet him.”
“All right. … I don't know why, but I don't trust him. I'd much rather be spending the weekend in London with you myself.”
“Then come,” she teased. “You can still meet me in Paris next week.”
“Very funny. You know I'm stuck here. Just get your ass back here as fast as you can. What are you doing this weekend?”
“Just hanging around. I thought I'd do some shopping tomorrow, and Cal and I are going to have dinner tonight at Harry's Bar.” Given what he had just said, she didn't tell him they were going dancing at Annabel's afterward. She knew there was nothing to it, but there was no point upsetting Steve. It was all harmless, and Cal was a perfect gentleman, just as she had said he would be.
“If he gets drunk, just take a cab home by yourself. Don't take a chance.”
“Sweetheart, stop worrying. No one is going to get drunk. We're going to have dinner, and go home. That's all. It's better than room service, but it's no big deal.”