Robert is already sitting at the table, waiting for me. A bottle of champagne has been opened yet again but this time it’s poured by a man in a white chef’s jacket. He gives me a deferential nod as Robert rises to pull out my chair.
“You look magnificent.”
“There’s that word again,” I say lightly.
“It suits you.” He kisses me on top of my head like a father. It makes me feel safe.
He sits down, raises his glass in toast. “To us.”
It’s the most common toast in the world. Right up there with “Cheers,” and “À ta santé!” But the words seem more loaded coming from Robert’s lips. For what does it mean, “Us?” We are not Romeo and Juliet. We are Caesar and Cleopatra. We’re Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Pierre and Marie Curie. Our coupling has consequences, people’s lives will be changed. . . .
Like Tom and Dave and Asha and Mr. Costin, for them our romance is as radioactive as anything the Curies cooked up in their lab.
And Cleopatra, Anne, Marie—each one of them was destroyed by the fate they pursued. Each undone by their passions and power. Pierre and Caesar didn’t fare much better . . . and then there was Henry.
I study Robert over my champagne glass. Could Robert ever turn on me? I’ve watched him casually destroy Tom; he’s offered to destroy others. What would it take for him to decide to destroy me?
The man in the chef’s coat is back. He places a small serving of venison carpaccio in front of each of us. The venison has been seared with a light vinaigrette that smells of rosemary and it’s topped with porcini panna cotta, a dark red coulis, beetroot, and a sprinkling of shaved parmesan, culinary adornments that do nothing to detract from the fact that what we’re about to eat is raw. A living thing that we kill and consume simply because it suits our tastes. My fork hesitates before piercing the meat. I meet Robert’s eyes as he takes his first mouthful.
“Not hungry?” he asks.
I pause for only a moment before admitting the truth. “I’m famished.” And I eat what’s been served. And I savor it, enjoy it; with each bite I find myself less and less concerned about the symbolism, the moral implications. I like it. That’s enough.
“How is the transition going?”
“Mr. Costin was uncomfortable with my promotion at first,” I say, my mouth partially full, “but he understands the score now. I’m getting a better sense of all the departments and those who once saw me as a coworker have already come to see me as a boss.” I take a sip of the champagne. “I have them all in line.”
The last line was delivered as a joke . . . sort of.
“Good. Tell me if Costin gives you any problems. Or Freeland for that matter.”
Our plates are cleared; a second small course is served. “It’s funny,” I say as I pierce the fricassee mushrooms, “I haven’t seen Freeland for some time. I mean he hasn’t really been a hands-on partner for a while but still, he used to do the occasional walk-through. Stop in to say hello to all the managers, make sure they’re still appreciative of his position. But I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“Yes,” Robert says, “that’s strange.”
But the way he says it tells me that he doesn’t think it’s strange at all.
I sit back in my chair. “Do you know something?”
Robert raises his eyebrows. “Yes,” he says softly, “I know something.”
I imitate his expression, raising my eyebrows and cocking my head mockingly. “Do tell, Mr. Dade.”
“I know that your company was in trouble. Tom wasn’t a bad businessman from what I’ve heard but he wasn’t innovative or hands on. None of the managers there are . . . or at least they weren’t. You’ll do a better job. Tell me, did you call meetings with each of your departments yet?”
“How did you know about that?”
“I know your style,” he says simply. “I know that you won’t take anything for granted. You’ll learn the ins and outs of each department, you’ll find ways for your people to differentiate themselves from the other consultants in the industry.”
“You’re quite confident in me,” I say, wondering if it’s entirely merited.
“Your recommendations for Maned Wolf were brilliant,” he continues. “You said things that others wouldn’t dare suggest. People often worry about recommending layoffs or the dismantling or reorganization of entire departments. The corporate world isn’t nearly as ruthless as some assume. We carry around dead weight out of sentimentality and attachment to old ideas. We take pride in innovations that were introduced so long ago, they’re no longer innovative at all. Polaroid, MySpace, Hostess, BlackBerry, all the same story. But you”—he smiles, takes another bite—“you’re like me. You’re not sentimental.”