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adviser-protégé of Geoff’s all at once. Which was a joke, considering the growing gut about Harrison’s waist and the veiled fear in his eyes. But he was a natural politician, so Geoff had assigned him to represent the real estate division on an ongoing basis back at corporate.
    In theory, it was just a liaison role to make sure the real estate division got its fair share of whatever corporate was handing out, and to ensure that they weren’t saddled with what they didn’t need. In truth, his job was to make Geoff look good—to the board members and to Jansten.
    As such, Harrison had a lot of face-to-face time with Jansten, and Geoff could tell it made the slug feel like he was the man of the house. Patently ridiculous, of course. But Harrison had been efficient in setting up the invitation back to corporate headquarters once Geoff decided San Francisco was no longer good for him—what with the newspapers picking up the story about the bike messenger, and his friends riding around plastering a surprisingly accurate sketch of Geoff’s face all over the place. When Jansten had called with the offer, he hinted rather broadly that Geoff could be in line for the VP job: “Your man tells me you might be willing to come to Boston. I’d like that. You can run your division same as always. I can tell you that you’ll be in the top three or four contenders for helping me run the company into the next decade.”
    Top three or four. Neither Barry Lerner nor Phil Rudden were lightweights, but Geoff felt confident he could burn past them. If Steve Dern was now to be a contender, then that was a surprise, but surely one he could manage.
    Vice president of a conglomerate with over sixty thousand employees in twenty-two countries, including half-a-dozen consumer brand lines, two high-growth electronics companies, Steve’s boat line, and Geoff’s own real estate division. The VP position would bring in a salary of over a half-million a year, plus stock options and perks, and a clean shot at the presidency when Jansten retired, which would be the genuine pot of gold. Yes, that would be entirely acceptable for a guy who hadn’t yet reached thirty-five.
    Geoff tuned back in to Harrison, who was saying, “So I told Voss, ‘Uh-uh, you got the wrong idea. Try again.’ Face went red as a frigging beet, I thought we were going to have to do CPR on him, and then I figured, what the hell? Maybe I should lock the conference room door, come back an hour later with a wreath.” Harrison began to laugh.
    Geoff said quietly, “What’s for breakfast tomorrow?”
    Harrison cocked his head. “I … breakfast?” He reached absently for his breast pocket and pulled out his phone to check his calendar.
    Geoff said, “Jansten’s called me out for breakfast. With Steve Dern. What should I be expecting?”
    Harrison looked genuinely confused. “I don’t know anything about it. With Dern?” Harrison’s face was red, and Geoff thought of the story about Voss.
    “I’m sorry, man,” Harrison said. “I talked to Jansten just yesterday, and he said his secretary was making all the arrangements to welcome you into town. In fact, I thought the first time we’d see you would be at the executive committee meeting on Monday. There has been a rumor of one of Jansten’s godawful team-building things. Going on a retreat.”
    “Tell me about Steve Dern,” Geoff said softly.
    Harrison lifted his shoulders. “Don’t know him that well. Wish I could tell you he was a scumsucker, but he’s a good guy. Smart, calm, knows his business.”
    Geoff sighed internally as Harrison slid into the background. Most of it was stock company propaganda about Dern’s success with the Blue Water line. Jansten liked to brag about it. Probably figured it was one of the few lines Jansten Enterprises actually earned, rather than bought.
    “Boats?” Geoff said, scornfully. “You think Jansten could be taking Dern seriously?”
    “You’ve got no argument from