"Did Greta find you?" Eileen asked, rising from her chair as
Matthew returned from lunch.
"She found me, all right," Matthew said, winded, rushing past her and into his office. He gathered his pen and notepad and hurried to the boardroom. There was only a minute to spare before the meeting began.
The entire Wallaby executive staff was seated around the table. "Good afternoon," Matthew said, sweeping the group with a smile. For an instant their inexpressive faces reminded him of the day they had voted Peter Jones from the company, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he seated himself at the head of the table.
All eyes drifted to the assistant chairman, Hank Towers.
"Matthew," he started affably, "we're all pleased with the large volume of sales orders for the new Joey II."
A few heads nodded. A smile here, another there. The room seemed to loosen a little, and Matthew smiled broadly. Laurence had been correct. The meeting had been called to applaud his success with the Joey II, and the strategic alliance with ICP.
"Thank you," Matthew said modestly. Then he became serious, scanning the room expertly, locking briefly on each person's eyes. "But I couldn't have done it without all of you."
Nods. A few brief smiles of genuine affection. Then all eyes gravitated once more to Hank Towers. There was an unsettling air of deference, protocol.
"Matthew, you've been very busy with the ICP alliance," Hank said, "which is perfectly understandable. So the executives and I have been working on our three-year plan."
Matthew nodded.