The I.P.O. Read Online Free PDF

down the second cul de sac, Ryan was rocked by another unsettling wave of déjà vus as he caught sight of the brick house he’d seen on TV.  He wasn’t actually surprised this time, but he wasn’t prepared for it either.  He leaned back with a pit in his stomach, slumping into his top-of-the-line booster seat.  One of the four garage doors opened as they pulled into the drive.
    Sara and Thomas led Ryan on an abbreviated tour of the 8000 square-foot mansion, focusing on the playroom, basement and office, which featured a miniaturized mahogany replica of Thomas’s desk for Ryan.  They finished the tour on the second floor.
    “And this is your room,” Sara said, nudging the door open with the back of her forearm.
    Ryan’s eyes widened, and his expression brightened as he scanned the room.  But he quickly checked himself, hit with a twinge of guilt for allowing himself a moment of happiness in his parents’ absence.  He owed it to them not be content with this house; this room; these people.
    “Go ahead,” Sara said, sensing his hesitation.  “It’s yours.”
    He loosened his grip on his backpack, allowing it to fall gently to the ground beside him, as he walked timidly toward a bed in the shape of a pirate ship in the corner.  He stopped at the bow to peek up a ladder that led up to a crow’s nest which featured a round table in the middle with miniature built-in seating all around.  At the stern was a knotty treasure chest loaded with unopened toys.  In the opposite corner stood an L-shaped desk with a computer, a tablet and a smartphone.
    A large closet stocked with more clothes and shoes than he’d ever seen in one place abutted an adjoining bathroom – his own private bathroom.  No more fighting for space or hot water in the shower.
    “Sorry about all the clothes,” Thomas said, slipping his arm around Sara’s waist.  “Our families got a little excited when they heard you were coming.”
    “There’s one other thing I want to show you,” Sara said, walking over to the ship and pressing a button at the base of a digital frame next to his bed.  “I’m hoping we can add a lot more memories to these in the years to come.”
    Ryan ambled over, keeping his gaze fixed on the frame, as a slideshow of pictures of him with his birth parents began to play.  He stood there entranced as each new picture appeared.  When the fiftieth and final picture faded back into the first and the cycle started over, Ryan climbed into the ship and lay quietly on his side facing the frame, continuing to watch as his new parents slipped inconspicuously out the door.
     
    ~~~
     
    Prescott discreetly glanced down at the phone peeking out of his right pants pocket to check a text he’d gotten from his VP Aaron Bradford before the cameras went back live : just landed in newark – researching JQJ issue .   Perfect.
    “And we’re back,” Blake beamed, oblivious to the tension in the air.  “Joining us now is Britt Herndon, chief financial correspondent for Bloomberg News.  Always great to see you Britt.”
    Herndon nodded sternly.
    Prescott’s smile grew noticeably brighter as he nodded back, knowing that the cheerier he appeared, the more exasperated Herndon would become.  Public opinion often had less to do with one’s position on an issue than with the appeal of the person espousing it.  If he could paint Herndon as an angry old man bent on stonewalling progress, this could be a good thing.
    Blake got things rolling. “Mr. Prescott, some of your critics would say that you are planning on hand-picking only the most talented and most intelligent children for your market.  How do you respond?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, cradling his coffee mug in both palms.
    “Well, we do preferentially choose children who are most likely to provide return for our investors, Blake.  Look, I wish that we could help every child who needed it.  I sincerely do.  But at the same time, even if we were able to