Fast and Loose

11

Stone went to his meeting with the Carlssons the next day. The two young men, Nihls and Sven, looked enough like their father to have been him at an earlier age — handsome, fit, and comfortable in their skins. Marisa was the female version.

They all sat down, and coffee was served.

“What have you got for us, Stone?” Paul Carlsson asked.

“Essentially, your clinic back,” Stone said. “And without doing a deal with the Steele Insurance Group.”

“How do we do that?” Sven asked.

“Your books and collective financial statements show enough liquidity to make an offer to the non-family stockholders fifty percent larger than the St. Clair offer. If they all want to sell, then you might need to borrow some of the necessary funds, but probably some of them will feel comfortable with the long run.”

“Dad,” Sven said, “I should speak to our bankers, in case we need to increase our line of credit.”

“Do that,” Paul said.

“We think it should be done quickly,” Stone said, distributing a package of documents. “Here is a letter to have printed on your letterhead, Paul, and for you to sign. There’s also a letter for those wishing to sell to sign, have notarized, and return to receive their money. You should print this as soon as possible and FedEx it to all the shareholders, with a return FedEx envelope enclosed. You might be able to get enough of them to agree before St. Clair’s deadline expires, when Macher would probably make a higher offer.”

“Is our offer too high?” Nihls asked. “Maybe twenty-five percent more than St. Clair’s might do the trick.”

“We think that’s what Macher would offer,” Stone said, “and it would be quicker and cleaner to make it fifty percent — it would be better not to get into a bidding war. The stock’s value is probably greater than that.”

“What do you say?” Carlsson asked his children.

They all responded affirmatively.

“Then let’s do it,” he said, handing the documents to Sven. “Ask somebody to stay tonight and make the copies. We’ll get the packages off tomorrow morning.”

Marisa stood up. “If you will excuse me, I have something I must do.” She shook Stone’s hand and left the room.

“Stone,” Paul Carlsson said, “I want to thank you and tell you how impressed we all are with how quickly you put this plan together.”

“I was very happy to help,” Stone said.

“I believe we can find some more work for your firm,” Carlsson said. “We have discussed opening a new division devoted to executive physical exams. Most companies today ask their executives to undergo them, and we think our reputation will serve us well. We have a floor downstairs that we can devote to the operation.”

“What a good idea,” Stone said. “We’d be glad to help. Why don’t I get you together with our managing partner, Bill Eggers, as soon as the stock buyout is resolved, and we’ll see how to proceed.”

“Wonderful,” Paul said. They all stood and shook hands and went their separate ways. In the outside hallway, Stone found the mahogany elevator door and pressed the button.

“Yes?” Marisa’s voice said on the intercom.

“It’s Stone.”

The elevator door opened, and Stone got on. Upstairs, the door opened into a vestibule, where Marisa was waiting. “Good meeting!” she said. “Perhaps Scandinavians are not so demonstrative, but I could tell that Papa was thrilled, and so were the boys.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Come in and let me get you a drink.” She led him into a large living room, paneled in a light wood and hung with many pictures, with marvelous city views to the south. She went to a bar. “What would you like?”

“Knob Creek bourbon, if you have it.”

She looked. “I’m sorry, no. I’ll have it next time. May I interest you in an Akvavit?” she asked.

“Wonderful idea.”

She opened a freezer and came out with a bottle frozen in a block of ice, found two small glasses, and poured for them.

“Skoal,” she said. They raised their glasses and tossed back the icy liquid.

“What a beautiful finish,” Stone said, tasting the afterglow.

“It’s a special Akvavit that we have sent over,” she said, pouring them another.

Stone felt the warmth spreading up from his belly.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“In Turtle Bay Gardens,” he replied.

“Oh, good,” she said. “Within crawling distance.” They tossed back another.

“I think I will hold at this altitude for a while,” Stone said.

“Look, I know you’ve booked a table, but downstairs we have a very fine chef. Why don’t I have a smorgasbord sent up?”

“What a good idea.” While she was calling down, he phoned the restaurant and canceled.

She came back and nestled beside him on the sofa. “You know,” she said, “I should ask our crew to run down yachts more often.”

“I’m quite happy to have undergone the experience, given its results.”

“A good business move?”

“An even better personal one.”

She smiled and poured them another Akvavit. Stone thought that, from here in, he should sip and not chugalug.

—

Dinner arrived in due course, and the waiter placed the large tray on the dining table, set it with china and silverware, and left.

They took their seats, and Stone surveyed the array of smoked fishes, sliced meats, hot dishes, breads, and other comestibles. Marisa opened a chilled bottle of Bâtard-Montrachet and poured them glasses.

“You have good taste in wines,” Stone said, sipping his approvingly.

“Papa is the wine collector,” she said. “I steal from his cellar.”

“Well stolen — this is one of my favorites.”

“Now,” she said, joining him, “I want to hear all about you. Google did not produce sufficient results.”

“The short version — born, Greenwich Village, attended public schools, NYU, and NYU law school. Became infatuated with police work and joined the force, ending up as a longtime homicide detective. Dino, whom you have met, was my partner. Took a bullet in the knee, and the NYPD took the opportunity to unload me. An old law-school buddy, who was with Woodman & Weld, advised me to take a cram course, take the bar, and come to work for them. I did so.”

“Ever married?”

“Yes, she died not long afterward, murdered by a former suitor.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Children?”

“One son, Peter, now a film director in Los Angeles. One Labrador retriever, Bob. Your turn.”

“Mine is more boring. Born just down the street, attended Spence, summered in Sweden with my mother — they were divorced when I was ten. Columbia, master’s in biology, and Harvard Medical School. Did my internship and residency in internal medicine at New York Hospital, right over there, and since then I’ve never strayed far from this building.”

“I hope you’re getting out more these days.”

“Every chance I get.”

“We must contrive some things to do with your spare time.”

She pushed back from the table. “Perhaps you’re aware of the Swedish attitude toward sex?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Stone replied.

“They are all true,” she said, taking his hand. “Come with me.”

And he did.