“Meredith is the one you should all be talking about,” Callan made a point of saying to them. “She's the magician who put it all together. She was incredible,” he said more than once, but no one seemed particularly interested in hearing what he was saying, and it annoyed him. And they were all interrupted by the phone conference with the salesmen of all the firms in the syndicate to handle the last aspects of due diligence. Meredith announced to everyone that the deal had been approved by the SEC, and would be effective in the morning when the market opened. They were all pleased to hear that there would in fact be a green shoe, and the only thing left to do was determine the size of the offering, and the price per share. And Callan agreed to stick with the number of shares indicated in the red herring, and to set the price at only a twenty percent premium over that in the prospectus, so that in the initial trading, given the tremendous oversubscription they had, the stock would rise sharply and quickly. Meredith explained it as “leaving something on the table,” which she knew would make everyone feel good about the offering, and allow the syndicate to dissolve immediately. It was the perfect deal, and it had come to the ideal conclusion, and Callan had no doubt that she was responsible for its success from beginning to end.
He said something about it to her two hours later when he dropped her off at her apartment in a limo. He was on the way to the airport, and heading back to California. Their venture was done, the book was oversubscribed eleven to one, they would go effective the next day, and the tombstone would appear in The Wall Street Journal the day after, on Thursday. Mission accomplished. But Callan still didn't feel that Meredith had gotten her fair share of the glory.
“They practically ignored you at the meeting, Merrie,” he said with a look of irritation. “What's wrong with those guys?”
“That's just the way they are. It doesn't mean anything. They know what I do. They're just not very vocal about their recognition.”
“Bullshit. They take you for granted, and you know it. You could have screwed this up royally for them, or done a half-assed job of it, and you didn't do that. You did a first-rate job every step of the way, better than that. I don't believe for a minute that we'd have an eleven-to-one oversubscribed book on this if it weren't for you. The least they could do is say so.”
“That's not important,” she said simply.
“You're a better man than I then. I'd be mad as hell right now if I were you. You worked like a Trojan on this offering. They ought to be carrying you around on their shoulders.” He was really angry, and she smiled as they reached her apartment building.
“I'm okay with it, Cal. Honest. I'm a big girl. All I'm interested in are the results. They don't need to make a fuss about me. This is my job.”
He had made plenty of fuss over her, that was enough, and the stock had been well priced. Meredith was expecting the stock price to rise at least twenty percent above the offering price. Everything had gone exactly the way she wanted. And he felt they owed her more than just cursory thanks for it.
“Have a good flight home,” she said with a smile, as the limo stopped at her front door, and the doorman took her bags from the driver.
“I'm going to miss you,” he said, looking sad.
“I'm going to miss you too. We'll talk tomorrow when the stock starts trading. I'll keep you posted.” She hesitated for a moment before leaving the car, and he held her hand for a minute.
“Meredith, thank you for everything.” It was an emotional moment between them. She had helped him fulfill his greatest dream, and it meant a lot to him. “Take care of yourself. And tell that lucky guy of yours that you both have a friend in California.”
“Thanks, Cal.” She kissed his cheek and left the car, and then stood in the doorway and waved as the limo sped off to the airport. And it felt odd after that going upstairs to her apartment. It seemed so anticlimactic now to be home, and even more so when she found the apartment empty.
Steve had left her a note, he'd had to go back to the hospital that night, but he promised to be home the next day, by the time she got home from the office. “Welcome home … I love you,” he'd said, and she smiled as she read it.
She wasn't upset that he wasn't there, she was used to it, and she could use the time to read her mail, get her papers in order, and do her laundry. And she was happy later that night when he called her. She was reading in bed, and she jumped when the phone rang.
“Welcome home, Merrie. Sorry I'm not there with you.”
“That's okay. I'm tired anyway. I'm going to go to bed early.” It was six hours later for her, by French time, roughly five o'clock in the morning. “How's work?”
“Crazy as usual. Two head-ons, the usual gang members shooting each other up just for the hell of it, and some lunatic who jumped in front of the subway.”
“Sounds like an ordinary night in your part of the world,” she smiled. By his standards, that was business as usual.
“Yeah. It shouldn't be too bad tonight. I'll be home tomorrow. Everything okay with you?”
“Fine. I'm just tired.” And depressed for some reason. But that happened sometimes when she came home from a road show. It felt good to be home, but there was a kind of a letdown. Her baby had left the nest and flown, and her job with it was finished. On to the next one. But there was an emptiness in the lull.
She slept fitfully that night, thinking of it, and when she got to the office the next day, she saw the proof for the tombstone for Friday's Wall Street Journal. It was just as she expected it to be, their name was on the left, which indicated that her firm had been the keeper of the book, and there were several majors out of order, which meant that some of the smaller firms were listed above them, a sign of how hot the deal was, as she had told Callan, when she explained it to him. And she had been in her office in time to make sure that the stock was trading well.
Everyone was talking about Dow Tech. The stock price was already rising, but not so fast or so much that it made her look foolish for not having priced it higher. It was a textbook offering, and what everyone wanted to happen when they took a company public. She was sitting at her desk, feeling pleased with all of it when Cal called her.
“So what's our next stop, Meredith? I'm ready for the next city.” He was teasing and she laughed.
“Me too. I can't believe it's over. Looking back it all seems so easy.” She smiled as she said it, but it had all gone very smoothly.
“Yeah, like childbirth. It only seems easy now because everything went so well, thanks to you. I don't know what to do with myself now that I'm back.”
“You'll think of something.” She knew he had plenty of new projects on the back burner, they had talked a lot about them.
“How was Steve when you got back?” he asked politely. They seemed like old friends now.
“I haven't seen him yet. He was working. He's taking the weekend off, and he said he was going to lock up my briefcase.”
“I don't blame him. I would too. Tell him to take you dancing.” She laughed at that. Steve was no Fred Astaire, like Callan. In fact, he hated dancing. He'd rather sit home and watch TV with a glass of wine.