Isaiah knew Margaret's reputation. She had joined Meridian's board after a career in institutional risk management, and her dissenting comments appeared in several minutes Apex's legal team had reviewed. She had objected to consultant payments that lacked sufficient supporting documents, urged a review of executive travel expenses, and repeatedly asked why junior research staff were leaving faster than clients were being replaced. Each time Charles had thanked her for her diligence and moved the meeting forward without taking the requested action.
Margaret had grown tired of being described as diligent. In boardrooms the word was often used to praise a woman for noticing an issue while gently suggesting that no one intended to solve it. She had considered resigning twice, but stayed because Meridian still held the retirement assets of thousands of clients whose names rarely appeared at galas. She could not force the board to listen on her own, but she could ensure her objections existed in writing when somebody finally asked what had been known and when.
Across the table Charles resumed his conversation as though the interruption had been fully resolved. "We are looking at a historic opportunity," he announced, loud enough to reclaim the attention of nearby guests. "Meridian has survived every market cycle thrown at it, and when Apex's capital is combined with our relationships, this firm will enter a completely different league." He lifted his glass to Philip. "Some of us have been building those relationships since the rest of the room was still in school."
Philip raised his glass with less enthusiasm. He had been employed by Meridian for eleven years and understood the difference between relationships that generated revenue and relationships that generated golf invitations. In the last eighteen months he had lost three good operations managers after they reported that budget approvals moved faster for Charles's favored projects than for basic cybersecurity work. Philip had filed their resignation summaries, told himself he would raise the problem at the next quarterly review, and then allowed the next review to pass. He had become skilled at doing that.
"What line of work are you in, Isaiah?" Margaret asked, cutting through Charles's speech with a gentleness that did not feel accidental. She looked directly at him, offering the courtesy of a question rather than letting someone else speak for him. Isaiah turned toward her with the smallest appreciative nod.
"Acquisitions," he said. "Mostly companies in transition. I spend a great deal of time studying what makes a business worth more than its current owners believe."
"A consultant?" Charles interrupted. He smiled before Isaiah could answer. "Or one of those boutique investment fellows who put acquisitions on a business card because they once bought a three-unit building in Brooklyn?" Philip looked down at his plate, and Eleanor gave a quiet laugh. Margaret did neither.
"I do work with investors," Isaiah said. "And I have bought companies. Usually after a long look at what their management teams have chosen not to see."