“Well, he may have told Mrs. Sutton that she was an idiot for wanting to go with your idea to work Memento into more markets,” she says.
“Yeah, calling a board member an idiot will usually — they’re going to do it?”
“Yeah,” Mags says. “They wanted me to give you a call and get you in here so they could tell you themselves.”
“I’m stuck here,” I tell her. “Is there any way you could schedule a meeting with them for me tomorrow?”
“Grace?” It’s Mrs. Sutton, the board member who I apparently should have talked to years ago.
“Yes, Mrs. Sutton,” I respond.
“You assistant said something about chemo, are you all right?”
Okay, John may have had a point when he called her an idiot. I didn’t expect the board would know or care that I’ve got this thing in my head, but it’s pretty safe to assume that a person on chemo isn’t all right.
“I’m just in the middle of a-”
“Grace, I’ve talked to the rest of the board, and we’re all in agreement,” she interrupts. “We’d like you to spearhead our expansion in the Midwest. I know you’ve been softening the ground for a while now, and there’s no one else more prepared to move on this than you.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.
It almost sounded like she’s offering me a promotion.
“We’d like for you to fly out to Cleveland. I understand you’ve been working with someone out there at KJBP, and I’d like you to extend a formal offer on behalf of Memento,” she says.
“Tonight?” I ask. “I really don’t think — Mrs. Sutton, even if they were to take the needle out of me now, I don’t think I’d-”
“Well, we don’
t want to wait very long on this,” she interrupts. “Just do me a favor and tell me that you’ll get in touch as soon as you’re feeling up to it. I’d hate to have to send someone in your place after all the work you’ve put into this.”
I’d approached her and told her I thought we should be expanding into other markets, but I didn’t give her any specifics, and I certainly didn’t mention Andrew, the man from KJBP I’ve been working with.
It must have been Mags. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the one who decided to fill Mrs. Sutton in on the details.
“I’m not sure when I’ll-” I start.
“Make it soon,” Mrs. Sutton interrupts again. “We’re planning on moving you out to Cleveland if this thing sticks, so I’d be prepared to make the pitch of my life if I were you.”
There’s some interesting phrasing.
“How long can this wait?” I ask, not about to fly out to Cleveland while having to deal with the effects of chemo.
“The best I can give you is until the end of the week,” she says. “When’s your next round of chemo finished?”
“End of the week,” I tell her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I really can’t give you any longer.”
Isn’t it strange how they were apparently waiting for most of the term of the company’s existence, but now that they’ve apparently started listening to me, it can’t wait another week?
“That seems unfair,” I tell her. “I put this together. What’s with the timetable?”
“We need to get going on this. KJBP’s already starting to get other offers.”
Someone leaked it. This is the problem with telling anyone anything.
“It’s strange that they would receive another offer,” I tell her. “I’ve kept this move under wraps for quite some time and they’ve never had another offer before.”