The 'Cousins'

Part Eighty-Eight: Impasse!

Greg had not felt this good in ages and his self-assurance flooded in sweeping into oblivion any self-doubts that might be lingering inside him. He whispered through a widening smile, “I’m back, ...and it all happened here, in this room. It all happened here...I’m on my way back.” 

He emptied his mind of all thoughts other than for the essential tasks in hand; until Halburton received an email from him authorising the termination of his personal contracts with Wayne there could be no IPO or national enterprise for him to engineer.

Greg picked up the notebook Jess had used, turning it over to a fresh page without even pausing to scan the boy’s notes; his mind already fully occupied on listing on paper the essential terms and conditions for the new agreement and the ending of the old contracts before drafting them into an email and sending it off to spoil Halburton’s weekend. 

Greg sucked the end of the pen while he read through his writing on the pad. 

“ No, that won’t do Mr. Mitchell.” He exclaimed, heavily crossing through a paragraph and redrafting its content for the benefit of clarity. “That’s better, that’ll do.” With the pen protruding from his teeth, giving him a cadaverous grin, he typed it up into an email. Greg typed with one finger to avoid making typing mistakes; reading out loud as he typed:

“Subject: Loan contracts with Wayne Fisher, 2005.  Next line, Dean, In Consideration of, ... No, better put that in capital letters ...IN CONSIDERATION OF...”

Below this he listed the conditions and terms he had agreed with Wayne earlier in the day for the next phase in the development of their business relationship. He read it through again and decided to underline the important points to emphasise them before clicking SEND.

“That should do it.” He said, rubbing his hands in glee as he sat back in his chair and watched the message go; emitting a mischievous chuckle “I guess I’ll be getting a call from Halburton about fifteen seconds after he opens this. ...Now for those Lumpers.”

There was time to kill before Wayne arrived and Greg busied himself on the Internet, gleaning information about the potato business and of heritage varieties in particular. Whenever he found a pertinent or surprising fact he wrote it down on the pad with muted exclamations of appreciation. The task occupied his whole attention. So much so that he wasn’t aware of Wayne coming into the room until he heard the man’s voice addressing him and raised higher than usual.

“Come back from wherever you are Greg. ...I said the truck’s on schedule and will get itself here, outside the Town Hall by 10.00am tomorrow. Are you sure you’re people will be there to unload it? ...What is that you’re doing?”

Greg spun around in embarrassment to face Wayne, his own face flushed with excitement. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.  I think I’ve just found the ideal outlet for my Lumper potatoes. I’ve found an Irish organization based in Chicago called O’Connell’s.” 

Instinctively Wayne moved closer to look at the screen, his reply sounded sceptical. “Why do you think they’re the ones? What makes them so special?’

Greg pointed at the screen. “Don’t you see, they’re an all round organization. They’re in the wholesale produce business, and they have two retail outlets and a restaurant. They specialise in traditional Irish fare and they’re not spread out over most of the country to give us massive transport costs getting the spuds there. These Lumpers are exactly what their business is about and we only have to go to Chicago. I did think we might have to go to New York.” 

Wayne could not fail to notice the rising excitement in Greg’s voice, but did not sound as convinced as Greg. 

“And that makes them good for this potato deal you’re putting together?”