She placed a small cream-colored card beside the water glass. Maya accepted it, surprised by the weight of the paper and by the absence of a title under the printed name. Imani Brooks, the card said, followed by a private telephone number and an email address. There was no logo on the front, no explanation of what the woman owned, and no indication of how much the card would matter within twenty-four hours.
Imani left through the revolving doors without looking back. She heard Preston tell Maya to return to the desk, and then she heard laughter begin again behind her. Outside, the city was bright and cold, full of people hurrying to meetings where somebody would greet them by name. She walked to the corner, took out her phone, and called Julian Reed.
"How was your first visit to the company you just bought?" he asked. Julian had worked beside her for nine years and knew her well enough not to waste time with elaborate greetings. "Forty-five minutes in a chair," she replied. "And not one of those minutes was wasted."
"They made the owner wait?" Julian sounded genuinely incredulous. Imani stopped beneath the awning of a bookstore and watched her reflection in the glass. "They didn't know I was the owner," she said. "That's the point."
The purchase had closed on the previous Friday, after eight months of negotiations and a final week in which three banks, two law firms, and Sterling Vane's retiring shareholders had argued over clauses that only the lawyers seemed to enjoy. Brooks Meridian, the investment company Imani had founded, now owned one hundred percent of Sterling Vane's voting equity. The transaction had been announced to regulators and the necessary executives under strict confidentiality, but the public introduction of the new owner had been reserved for the following Monday's all-hands meeting. Between those dates, Imani had requested one simple appointment with the man being recommended as Sterling Vane's next chief executive.
"Helena Marsh still wants to announce you in person," Julian said. "And Preston Hale is the board's recommended candidate for CEO, subject to your approval. You know that, of course." Imani watched a delivery driver struggle to open the bookstore door while balancing two heavy boxes. "Yes," she said. "I think Monday will be interesting."
Julian was quiet long enough to recognize that this was not an invitation to celebrate. "Do you want me to contact Helena?" he asked. Imani watched the bookstore clerk hurry forward and hold the door for the driver. "Not yet," she said. "First I want to understand what happens to the people who behave better than their bosses." She ended the call, slipped her phone into her bag, and walked on.
Imani had not always been a woman who could purchase companies. For the first eighteen years of her life, she had been the daughter of a night-shift hotel employee in a neighborhood where the buses stopped running before her mother's workday ended. Elaine Brooks had worn the same gray uniform for fourteen years, rising at four each afternoon to iron it while her daughter sat at the kitchen table doing homework. The hotel promoted itself as a place where every traveler belonged, but Elaine knew which guests were offered complimentary upgrades and which were told to wait beside the luggage carts.