Page 41 of Return Billionaire to Sender

I turn to face her. “I’m sorry. What?”

“What do you think? Will you make him be all good now with your empathy program?”

Walt and Nisha are grinning, because Malcolm having empathy is such a joke to them.

“I’m telling you” —I point at each of them, from one to the other and back— “goodness. Empathy.Notfinite. No way.”

Nisha claps. “Hah!”

“A wild-eyed optimist,” Walt says. “Watch out, Mr. Blackberg!”

“Yeah, watch out!” Nisha exclaims. “She’s gonna beat you over the head and drag that goodness right out of you!”

Walt is laughing.

I snort. “How did you know my plan?”

“So obvious,” Nisha says.

Walt finds sea salt dark chocolate treats in the snack pouch and passes them around. I try not to gobble mine like a freak.

Am I a wild-eyed optimist? Is it just stupidly optimistic and idealistic that I’m thinking I can change his heart?

I remind myself that people’s hearts change sometimes.

Back at the hotel, Malcolm gathers the team in a private room, fully back to his grumpy self. “What did you observe?” he asks, or more, demands.

Nisha thinks that the lawyers are unhappy to be there. Malcolm wants to know why she suspects it and she gives her reasons, mostly having to do with facial expressions. She suspects they’re giving him a deal on their hours because he’s an old client.

Malcolm nods. “Legacy client. On retainer. Nobody thinks there’s going to be a deal here.”

“Exactly,” Nisha says.

“You might be right,” Malcolm says.

Nisha beams.

He wants to hear if anybody noticed when people perked up. Nobody noticed anything, including me, but you can see what Malcolm noticed, and it’s fascinating.

Lawrence informs him that he caught the son on the phone a few times, and that Gerrold noticed it one of the times, and looked displeased.

Malcolm nods at this. “If Junior had his way, Dad would never get anywhere near a negotiating table, anywhere near somebody who wants to buy the place. Junior thinks that if he breaks it apart himself, he’ll get more money. On the off chance we reach a deal, he’ll try to nix it. So why is Gerrold here? What does he want? Maybe it’s not about schooling Junior. Gerrold’s not an idiot.”

Walt says that on Facebook, Junior says he wants to start some kind of sports marketing operation. Walt theorizes that Gerrold is working to build the son’s skills for that, perhaps. Malcolm nods, and Walt practically grows two inches. Other people give their opinions.

Malcolm soaks it all in. Listening. Watching. Quietly curious.

* * *

Today’s coachingsession is scheduled for 3:30 p.m. in the “Blue Flame” conference room, which turns out to be a small, elegant lounge with a picture window that overlooks building tops and distant hills. There’s no long table, no projector or screen, just five comfy chairs arranged around a low table.

It’s more like a place to have after-dinner brandy than a business meeting spot. A mod fireplace at one end features just a strip of blue flame.

“Hence the name,” Malcolm says, and I spin around to find him leaning in the doorframe, eyes sparkling. “There’s also a Green Flame room and an Orange Flame room. God save us from luxury hotel naming conventions.” He sits. “Take a seat, I’m across town at five.”

I take the seat next to him and set up my iPad on the low table.

Malcolm’s not smiling or anything, but he seems like he’s in a good mood. “So do you have any coaching for me on my negotiation style?” he asks, like it’s all a joke.

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