Page 65 of The Christmas Eve Delivery

I glanced away from the spreadsheet I currently was in the middle of analyzing.

“What the hell does he want?” I muttered to myself. My curiosity would be answered the second I picked up the phone. Donald White was turning out to be a very needy investor. I preferred investors to write a check and only ask questions after they received their quarterly or annual financial statements. My company was not some kind of growth stock company. We were long-term value. Investing in the JM Carlisle group was not a get rich quick scheme. We were an investment that paid out over time. Donald White was treating his investment with us like some kind of hedge fund short selling scheme.

“Donald, how are you?” I asked as I picked up the phone.

“Cut the chit chat, Carlisle,” he said immediately. It sounded like he had a grievance that needed airing.

“Of course. How can I help you?”

“When I agreed to invest with your group, I thought I had expressed my concern regarding the allocation of certain percentages of my investments to your different divisions.”

“Yes, you did,” I confirmed.

“Then why haven’t you reported progress on that resort development I know you were working on?”

“A progress report on all outstanding projects was included with our quarterly financial statements,” I told him. “The next report will go out with the end of year financial statements.”

“I don’t have time to wait for that. I need to know what’s going on now,” he said like a petulant child.

It was a good thing that this was a phone call and not a face to face conversation. He would not have appreciated the expressions that crossed my face. Donald White had not invested so much money with us that he warranted personal reports and hand holding. But he was an investor, and I wanted to keep them all happy. One unhappy investor could spread dissonance in the ranks, and then I’d have multiple unhappy investors. Unhappy investors pulled their funding.

“We ran into a hiccup,” I admitted. “But we are still going forward with the project. It just looks like some of the parameters that we had originally intended are being redefined.”

“Redefined? There is no resort being built,” he said gruffly.

“At the moment, there is not. However, that doesn’t mean?—”

“I thought you had that little town under control.” He cut me off.

“That little town…” I started.

That little town was a pain in my ass. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to get away from it. Diego and Harris had several potential areas lined up for us to look at. Even Jackson finally admitted that Brookdale was probably going to be a total loss.

I wasn’t convinced. I still wanted to build there. I also knew that my motivation for being in Brookdale was no longer strictly business driven. I wasn’t fully honest with myself, and I still told myself that it was because Brookdale was strategically placed, not too high up in the mountains, close to scenic trails that were accessible year round for hiking and cross-country skiing, and not too far from the freeway.

“We had hoped to have more cooperation from the locals. That doesn’t seem to be happening. So we’re reaching out to other towns to see if we can get a warmer welcome. And to broker a deal with them,” I said.

“And my money?” Donald White asked.

“And your money is making you money,” I said. “I don’t have the year-end reports, as we are still a couple of weeks from wrapping up the fiscal year, but everything looks good. You should expect to see a return on your investment once we provide the year-end financials.”

“I had better see a decent return. Don’t make me regret having changed my mind. I can still change my mind.”

“You’ve already invested with us,” I reminded him.

“I can always withdraw my funding,” he exclaimed.

It sounded like a threat, ‘make me money or I’ll pull all of my funding from you.’ That was always his prerogative. And while I said the words that made him think I cared about hisinvestment, I didn’t. If he chose to withdraw funding, it needed to be because he felt it was a bad fit and not because of how he was treated by me. He could leave, he could take his money, but my reputation would remain intact.

“I certainly hope you choose not to do that, Donald. After all, I expect we will see satisfactory progress on the resort next year.”

“I certainly hope so,” he said. And then he hung up.

I stared at the phone.

“What was that all about?” Harris asked as he waited by my office door for my attention to shift and notice him.

“I’m not exactly sure,” I admitted.

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