Page 26 of Christmas in Vines

We did a run-down of the management of our family-owned andled business. Our corporation was set up where the majority stake in the firm could only be held by a blood family member and had at least one family member on the board of directors.

Dad used to be on the board, but since the business grew and expanded, he had delegated himself to management only and had given his place to Uncle Herman instead. That way, our family had more influence over the business’s direction, strategies and plans.

For a medium and growing business, we kept things pretty tight and in-house, with four board members, a thousand shareholders, forty-nine percent of them common and the other fifty-one preferred shares and non-voting members.

“So, where does Maximillian come in?” I asked.

“He’s going to be another angel investor,” Dad replied. “With the buckets of money he has and the streams of distribution at his fingertips, it’s only natural he’d buy in. He’s buying the last eleven per cent preferred shares, too, while your uncle has twelve. Don’t worry, I still have the majority with sixteen.”

I looked over the papers and jabbed a finger at the preferred shareholder, referred to as Anon, who held twelve percent as well. “Who’s this person.”

“I don’t know,” Dad replied. “Do you remember that slump we had about three years ago when the profits went to the ground and the costs were tripled? I was contacted by a trading firm that asked if I could allow an anonymous investor into the business for five hundred thousand dollars. I agreed, and that sum got us out of the slump in weeks.”

I was alarmed. “But Dad, what if that was a buy-in to—”

“Create havoc? Our lawyers nearly had conniptions about that, too. However, the agreement this investor has with us specifies that any wrongdoing on his part, insider trading, scrupulous buy-ins, etcetera, would mean the cancellation of his contract, and the fallout will be his liability. Up to date, he has not done a damn thing.”

It was cold comfort, but I had to trust my dad’s instinct on this. I made a mental note to keep an eye on that investor, though.

“I must say, I’m glad you changed your mind, Willow,” Dad replied. “This is the exact sort of meeting you’ll need to experience because when I hand over the reins to you, you’ll be in a lot of them.”

“I know,” I agreed. “But ever better, now that I know Maxmillian and most likely Maxwell will be around for a long time, it’s the best time for me to draw the line of engagements between us.”

“That too,” Dad added. “Let’s hope for the best tomorrow.”

I looked at the folder. “I hope so, too.”

* * *

The moment Maxwell stepped into the boardroom—he was the next in line for his father’s business, so of course he would be there—tension coiled so tightly under my skin I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust. Still, though, I kept my place at Dad’s side and lifted my chin a little to show him that I wasn’t intimidated.

I could not be, not for his perfectly fitted blue Armani suit or his coiffed hair and sharp eyes—eyes that were trailing over me like thick molasses.

“Misters Winslow,” Dad greeted him, his father and their two lawyers with handshakes. “Welcome. Let me introduce those with me. My board of directors, Mister Allen Lowe, Mrs. Geradline Vassal, and you know my brother Herman Clarkston. At the far end, my attorneys, Mrs. Paula White and Dr. Carlile Chamberlin and also, my daughter will be sitting in with us.”

“Right,” Maximillian nodded curtly, “Good to see you again, Willow. Ready to wrench the steering wheel from your dad, are you?”

“I’d say coax,” I replied. “Pleased to see you again as well. Maxwell,” I nodded my greeting to him.

His eyes were narrowing, but his tone was pleasant. “Willow.”

“May I offer you any refreshments?” Dad asked a second later. “Or shall we start?”

“Let’s begin,” Maxmillian replied, pulling his sleeve up and glancing at his Patek Philippe watch. “I have another meeting in four hours.”

Of course he does.

We took our seats, and Dad got the meeting going by outlining the terms of the buy-in while our lawyer’s lobbied terms and conditions back and forth like tennis players. My uncle, who was the instigator of this, jumped in a lot, almost giddy that his friend was about to become a part of our company.

“The special offer to earn preferred stock and to be slated in as Investor of Record is on the table. You’ll start with ten percent shares which will increase to thirteen,” Dr Carlile Chamberlin said.

“We will only be satisfied with the maximum threshold of thirteen percent as with the Investor on Record,” one of Maximillian’s lawyers said coolly. “Those are our terms.”

“Respectfully, with the funds you’re offering to exchange, by our internal policy bylaws we have, ten percent is the threshold,” I said calmly.

“About that,” Maxwell said, opening a folder and sliding a sheet to my dad. “We’re prepared to increase it by twenty percent to make the sum six hundred thousand. In addition, our freight ships will extend a twenty percent discount on your shipping for the first quarter after the agreement is finalized and the ink is dried.”

My eyes flew to Dad while the lawyers began to whisper between themselves. Silently, he took the slip of paper and read over it before he laid it down. “This diverges from the terms.”

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