Sally, my regular assistant knew. Whenever she was out, I emphatically repeat my standing order to each temporary replacement. Calls from Mrs. Beatrice Hollingsworth Smyth were to be given the highest priority and it was extremely imperative, even if I were on another call, I was to be immediately interrupted and notified even if I was out of the office or at home sick
If they asked, I'd tell them only that Mrs. Smyth was a valued client as well as grandmother of my college roommate and closest friend. The real truth was that she was the source of my livelihood and success. It was my most guarded secret.
I met Mrs. Smyth my sophomore year in college, when I'd accepted Jeff's invitation to spend break at his parent's home. As her grandson's friend, she'd accepted me with more than her usual well-bred courtesy. Our relationship deepened when Jeff and I continued on to graduate school together and after when we both accepted jobs at J. P. Brighten Investments.
After serving the mandatory years of apprenticeship, Jeff wound up in the Investment Bond department. Knowing my first choice was being a stockbroker, he told his grandmother and she became THE client I needed to get started. Mrs. Smyth, as matriarch of an old eastern seaboard family, was very wealthy. Our personal tie, added to my need to establish myself, provided more than enough incentive for me to work hard.
Recognizing my good fortune, I placed my personal life on hold and devoted all my waking hours to my work. My efforts paid off. Mrs. Smyth's portfolio outperformed both industry benchmarks and the firm's internal standards. My patron was very appreciative and was soon sending me referrals. Five years later, my combined portfolios totaled $200 million with my commissions far exceeding the personal ten-year goal I'd set for myself.
At thirty years old, I'd achieved financial success that many older brokers still only dreamt of. Though I'd achieved professional success, it's come at the expense of having a personal life. I wanted both and it bothered me that the one excluded the other.
My dilemma remained constantly in my thoughts. Lately, it always surfaced in the few sparse minutes I allowed each day for personal reflection. I hadn't been able to shape a plan for the how and the when for getting to my personal objective.
Monday, I was four hours into my normal six-teen hour day on when Mrs. Smyth called, "Good morning, Mrs. Smyth, how are you?"
"I'm just fine, Garrett. Thank you. How are you?"
"Great! The Dow's already 30 up points today, I'm betting it'll go higher. You'll be pleased with the results when it does."
"I'm sure I will, you've never let me down. But, I'm not calling for an update. I may have another client for you, but I'm not totally sure it'd be wise for you to take her on."
Her remark left me somewhat puzzled. Unlike my other clients, due to our relationship, our calls were usually a mix of business and personal matters. My family was mid-western middle class and I'd learned to tell which of the two she was on from the tone of her voice. This time, I wasn't sure and asked, "Why?"
"Because I think of you as more than my broker and the last thing I'd ever want is to do anything that might hurt you. I'm not as familiar with this woman as the others I've sent to you and she's closer to your age than any I've sent you."
"I don't understand. You know I design investment strategies to personally fit each of my clients."
"Just like you, Garrett, always the professional. It's what I admire about you, but in this instance, I fear it's what makes you vulnerable."
"Vulnerable?"
"Yes. You're so dedicated to your work that you don't get out much. Are you dating anyone yet?"
"No. But, I'm trying Mrs. Smyth, I really am." I lied.
"It's OK, Garrett. I believe you. It's not just that I'm nosey. I'm just concerned for your welfare. And, getting back to the point, the prospect I've in mind is an extremely attractive divorcee, late thirties and there are some rumors floating around about her."
"Rumors? Financial problems?"
"No, I'm certain she's very solid financially. The rumors pertain to her life style. Specifically, to her sexual conduct"
I smiled in replying, "I appreciate your concern as I do our friendship. But, I may not be as naΓ―ve as you think. Other than you, of course, I follow the old rule of never mixing business with pleasure. It's work for me and I've no desire to stop. Should I call her or will she call me?"
"I'll give her your card, but only if you promise to be careful."
"I promise I'll be careful...VERY careful. If things don't feel right, I'll make some excuse for not taking her on." "Fine, Garrett. Just remember what I've told you and keep me posted. Her name is Amelia Thorne."
"I'll remember, Mrs. Smyth. I will. Amelia like the lost woman aviator pilot"
"Yes."
I hung up the phone, curious about Mrs. Smith's comments. Though well into her seventies, Mrs. Smyth had lost nothing mentally. I was certain her description of Ms. Thorne would prove true. But, I'd some doubt of the rumors for I knew how malicious the very rich could be overly judgmental of one of their own. It was highly probable that the rumors were planted by women who envied the youth and looks of Ms Thorne.
I told Sally to send Mrs. Smyth a case of the expensive port I knew she was fond of, dictating the wording of the card to be included. While I was secure in our relationship and we'd never brought the subject up, I was sure she was well aware that she was the major source of my success. I hoped she'd deem the gift more as one of friendship than of homage.
Amelia Thorne called Tuesday and made an appointment to meet at my office that afternoon. Our phone conversation was short and wholly business-like. I was expecting her to have a sultry sexy voice but she'd been brief and her tone was reserved leaving me to expect a normal arms-length relationship.
Sally came to my office at 1:30, instead of using the phone to announce Ms. Thorne's arrival. Her face wore a beaming smile in announcing, "I know you're REALLY going to want to sign this one up."