“It’s an honor to finally meet him,” he said to the assistant.

I don’t think he really felt that way, but he was a polite man and had to say something.

“Right this way,” she said, showing us to the elevator.

Once again, we found ourselves in the meeting room with the same long table and some delicious looking hors d'oeuvres and a variety of beverages. I didn’t remember this abundance at our last meeting, but it was nice to see this sort of hospitality. Someone obviously wanted to keep us fed and happy while finalizing the deal. I would rather see an ice bucket with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and, perhaps, some Beluga Caviar.

The team was ready indeed. Half a dozen men and women, mostly in their thirties, with their laptops and serious faces were waiting for us in the room. We shook hands with everyone. They were all wearing smart casual outfits and the pair of us looked a bit overdressed and much older.

“Shall we get this show on the road then?” I said with a smile, rubbed my hands and sat down at the table.

The contract and the transfer deed were ready on the table to be reviewed and signed. I noticed that there were Montblanc Rollerball pens next to Mr. Goldberg’s and my copies. My father liked those. Being one of the old-school pen lovers, he preferred fountain pens though. I picked it up and looked at the assistant.

“A small gift from Mr. Shannon,” she said with a smile.

I nodded and looked at Mr. Goldberg. He was happy with it. We both were.

“Shall we sign now, or should we wait for Mr. Shannon?” I asked, unscrewing my new pen’s cap.

“Mr. Ford here,” she pointed at a man in blue jeans and a lighter blue blazer over a black T-shirt with a tiger print on it. “He will sign the contract on behalf of the company, but you can sign it first,” she said.

So we did. No fuss. It took a minute. The deal was half done. Then Mr. Tiger-on-my-T-shirt signed his copies.

“The keys will only be handed to the buyer once the paperwork and money transfer have been completed, which will take a few weeks,” the assistant stated, collecting their copies of the documents. “Mr. Shannon, however, is willing to wait for a month or more to give you sufficient time to relocate your belongings.”

“That’s very generous of him,” I said, putting away my new Montblanc.

“Congratulations on the sell, Mr. Montague,” she said, smiling. “I’m sorry that Mr. Shannon couldn’t be here. I just got a message from him. He was held in a different meeting, but he sends his regards.”

“Well, he’s a busy man,” I said, smiling back. I did not really care about Jared’s presence. I had what I wanted, and it seemed that he had what he wanted. We did not have to be in the same room to share our experiences.

I stood up and noticed a CCTV camera under the ceiling with the red light on. Were we being watched?

***

It was almost lunch time when we stepped out of the building. I put my Louis Vuitton sunglasses on to protect my eyes from June’s bright sun.

“Do you want to have lunch?” I asked Mr. Goldberg.

“Sure,” he said and put on his Ray Ban Aviators that made him look like a spy. “You’re paying, aren’t you?” He bared his white teeth in a greedy smile.

I nodded.

“In that case, let’s go someplace fancy and celebrate the deal.” He patted me on the shoulder.

“Absolutely. You pick, and I pay.”

“Deal.”

As we were about to cross the street to get to Mr. Goldberg’s car, I saw a car driving out of the underground parking exit of the building we just came from. It was a mineral white BMW 8 Series Coupe. A fancy car for someone who liked speed and luxury. Natasha happened to own one just like that.

I had one month to empty Maple Grove House, which had been empty for more than twenty years, and start my construction project that was going to change the place forever. A doable task, by all means. I was planning to spend the rest of the week at the estate. The idea was to kill two birds with one stone – prepare the house by going through the inventory with the good old Harry and spend some time at the former pig farm with my construction engineer, discussing the necessary preparations for the construction now that we had the money to do it. I called Harry and asked him to hire a cook for the time being because I wasn’t ready to have bachelor-style meals while I was there. He had “just the person” for the job.

I decided to leave early on Wednesday and take the morning train to Maple Grove House. I picked up a cup of coffee with a pastry on the way to the station. When I got there, I stopped at a news stand to buy something non-digital to read when I saw Jared’s face on the cover of a business magazine. The title below his smiling face read “The Finance Wizard is here to stay.” I bought the issue to educate myself on the train.

The article was mainly about his sky-rocketing success in finances, hailing his local roots but not going into too many details. They mentioned that his mother worked for “one stately manor” before leaving for the States and taking him along. It was “the best decision ever” and “taught him to be resilient and persistent.” He never knew his father, and his “mother was everything to him.” There was a picture of him in his twenties and Susan in front of their small home in California, just before he started building his financial empire. I wondered if he started it in his garage like other famous entrepreneurs. The article didn’t cover that. A few other pictures showed various stages of his life all the way to the present day. It concluded with his plans to “develop different aspects of his business further” and spending more time where he was born to understand his roots better. I couldn’t say that I had been enlightened by the read but it had added a few brushstrokes to his portrait.