NOTE: This stuff may not have happened yet.  If Simon really invested ALL Cass’s money in the club, rather than just “all he could allocate to a personal project” then he hasn’t done this yet.

Running a financial empire was a lot of work.  Doing it all yourself was even more work.  Simon wasn’t ”totally” on his own.  He’d been glad to hire Rover to ride herd on the contractors working on the club.  But that meant he spent a good bit of time smoothing over hurt feelings with the contractors.  Rover’s work was worth the effort, though, and Simon was really good at smoothing over hurt feelings.Then there was the investment portfolio.  Simon spent part of every day looking for someone he could really trust to handle that.  And he had to dance a tightrope of not offending Juliani, but not accepting any of his help, either.  Still, the man was smart and new the local financial community.  His introductions were valuable, too.

Monday early in the afternoon, Simon broke away from an impromptu meeting with the decorator for an appointment at the offices of Guidestar Financial.  After all his introductions and interviews, Simon found Guidestar totally by accident, literally running into the manager as they both rounded the same corner and helping the man pick up his dropped papers.  (Privately, Simon thought the Wyrd could have arranged that without making him spill his Slushy)

The Guidestar office suite was in a sleek, modern building that had traveled to the future from the early 80s.  It actually reminded Simon a little of his early life.  He rode a silver elevator up to a beige floor about midway up the tower.  Guidestar Financial occupied half the floor.  Their logo and company name shown in frosted glass, and Simon walked in.

“Hello sir,” said a receptionist as soon as he came in.  She was as old as Simon’s mom… actually, his mom was older now.  The treacheries of time still caught him sometimes.  Her bluetooth headset looked a little incongruous with her short-cropped gray hair.  “How may I help you.”

Simon smiled and walked to the desk.  “I’m Simon Beal.  I have a meeting with Mr. Fredricks.”  He reached across the desk to offer his hand.  “And it’s a pleasure to meet you today.”

She melted a little as she took his hand.  Simon loved doing that.

“Oh… right.  You’re right on time.  I’ll tell him you’re here.”  She turned to her phone, pushed some buttons, and had a quick conversation, then turned back to me and said “He’ll be right with you.  Just finishing up a phone call.  Why don’t you have a seat?  Would you like some coffee?”

“Not right now, thanks,” Simon said.

He sat down and waited no more than five minutes before a solid-looking man, a little shorter than Simon but full of energy strode into the room from the offices beyond.

“Mr. Beal” he asked, extending his hand toward Simon.  “Nice to see you again.”

Simon stood up to greet him and exchanged a handshake, firm but not challenging.  “Call me Simon,” he said.

“Great.  I’m Jay, then.  Only my ex-wife calls me Jasper.”  He led the way back to his office, nodding to his personal assistant as he passed.  “Beth, this is Simon Beal.  Be a dear and get us some coffee?  Or would you like something else?”

“Coffee’s fine, lots of cream, okay?”

Beth nodded and said “Right away.”  She looked to be only a few years out of college, with coffee-and-cream skin, eyes like a deer, and hair she straightened into a pageboy kind of cut.  She filled her conservative skirt, blouse, and jacket quite nicely.  As he passed by, Simon noticed she’d kicked off her high-heeled shoes under her desk.

The two men settled in Jay’s corner office, not at his desk but at a less formal seating area made up of overstuffed leather furniture around a granite-topped coffee table.  Jay’s laptop PC stood on a movable stand.  There were some file folders on the table, spread neatly.  Simon suspected the work of Beth.

Jay took the topmost file.  “Okay, Simon, let’s get started.  I’d never heard of your company before you called.”

“I’d be surprised if you had.  I only started it last thursday.”

Jay smiled.  “That’d explain it then, and this public filing that was posted Friday.  Anyway, the court documents don’t really explain what Bellweather Enterprises does.”

Simon leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.  “Right now, it doesn’t do anything.  I was hired by Cassandra MacArthur to manage her finances toward certain ends.  She needs a continuous revenue stream, partially to support herself, and partially to fund a charitable foundation.  And she wants, as much as possible, to support local businesses– particularly ones that arise out of the foundation’s efforts.”

“Ah.  Yes, I’ve got some of that paperwork here, too.  Housing, legal aid, and that kind of thing for homeless people, right?”

“That’s most of it,” Simon said.  “She’s interested in people who fall through the cracks and get left behind by the rest of the world.  And she wants to stand by the people she helps and not just get them back on their feet, but help them become contributing members of society.

“So that’s a goal, but only as part of the greater whole of keeping the foundation going.  Ideally, in a year or two we’ll be bringing in enough money through investments that the foundation is self-sustaining, at least mostly.”

Jay squinted over spreadsheets in his file.  “I see.  You’ve got quite a bit of this earmarked already.”

“Yes,” Simon said.  “You’ll be starting relatively small, if I choose you.  I have a rough plan for one, two, and five years that leads to steady increased investments once I get the local groundwork laid.  After five years, the investment side will be pretty steady, paying eighty percent of yearly dividends back into the main fund.”

Jay nodded.  “Yeah.  You know the basics and you’ve done your homework.  You want me for the professional perspective and the connections.”

Beth came in with coffee, setting one cup in front of each man.  When Simon picked his up, he felt something under the cup, which he calmly pulled free without making a show of it.  He got a glimpse of a pink post-it note before he slid it into his pocket.

Jay wasn’t paying attention.  He’d turned to his computer and was clicking and typing away.  “We have three products that could work for you.  Once you have your end fully nailed down, you’ll possibly want to invest in all three.  One will pull down slow, steady dividends.  It’s like a bank CD on steroids.  The second one is more speculative, but still safe.  It’s been down for the past year, I’ll admit, but it’s turning around.  Next quarter it will be back at levels just above where it was before the economy went to hell– so this is a good time to buy in.  The last one is the most aggressive, and isn’t likely to show profit for two or three years, but when it does, it stands to pull in millions for investors.”

They talked for about another hour.  Simon used his natural charm and keen understanding of how people interact to draw some facts out of Jay; business information at first, and then personal details.  To Simon, those were almost as important as the business info.  He would be entrusting this man, or someone else, with his life’s work, and maybe with his life.  He wanted to know the man was someone he could trust.

Beth peeked her head in the office and said “Mr. Fredricks?  Your four o’clock…”

Jay looked totally abashed.  “It’s that late?  I’m really sorry, Simon.  I have to cut this short.  I can set aside some time tomorrow if you need more, but I was supposed to leave early today to take my daughter out for dinner and a movie.  It’s her birthday.  My little girl means the world to me, and I just can’t keep her waiting.”

Right then, Jay Fredricks secured an account for Guidestar Financial.  Simon put his coffee down and stood up.  “No need to apologize.  I’ve monopolized your time.  Family should always take precidence.”  He extended his hand to shake.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.  I’ll go over everything first, but I think you and I should do business.  Now go see your daughter.  Tell her happy birthday for me.”

On his way out, Simon saw a girl who had to be Fredrick’s daughter.  She had his eyes set in a face with a pixie-like nose and downy blond hair.

“Who’s that?” he heard her ask the receptionist as he left.  “He’s yummy.”

Out in the parking lot, Simon checked the post-it note.  It was a phone number written under ‘Beth Fantroy.’  Under the number was written ‘Call me!!’

It had been a good day.