Shelley swam slowly into consciousness and found herself in what looked like the guest room in some tasteful person’s home, except for the hospital bed she lay in and the equipment surrounding her, ticking and beeping. A nurse sat at her bedside reading a newspaper. She looked up. “Oh, you’re awake!”
“I seem to be,” Shelley said. “May I have a mirror?”
The nurse laughed. “Oh, you don’t want that,” she said, “at least not yet. You have a bandage across your nose and two black eyes. You look like a raccoon.”
“Swell,” Shelley said. “What do I do now?”
“The doctor will be in in a moment, then you can relax, read, watch TV, or just rest. He’ll discharge you tomorrow morning.”
The doctor came in, smiling. “Everything went perfectly,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You’ll be out of here in the morning, and by that time I can minimize the dressing.”
“And I’ll look like someone who’s just had a nose job,” Shelley said.
“No, like someone who’s had an accident, maybe in the car.”
“Can I go to the hairdresser’s tomorrow?”
“Of course, as long as you’re feeling up to it.”
“I’m feeling up to it now.”
He patted her on the shoulder. “Just rest today. You’ll feel fine tomorrow, and I’ll give you something for the pain.”
“Pain? You didn’t mention pain!”
“There’s always some pain associated with any surgery, but I’ll give you some medication that will make it go away.”
“Right now I just feel numb all over.”
“That’s normal. Now, if you need the nurse or me, just use your bedside buzzer, and we’ll be here. In any case, I’ll stop by to see you again before I leave the office, around seven.”
“Thank you, Dr. Charles.”
The doctor left, and Shelley drifted off to sleep again.
Herbie dialed the number, and a woman with a British accent answered. “The Holbrooke Group, good morning.”
“Kent Holbrooke, please.”
“And who may I say is calling?”
“Herbert Fisher, of Woodman and Weld.”
A moment later, Holbrooke came on the line. “Herb Fisher?”
“That’s me.”
“Marshall Brennan says good things about you.”
“Marshall is my smartest client.”
“We need to get together. Where do you want to do it?”
“If you want to see what we look like, you can come here, otherwise I’m happy to come there or meet you somewhere.”
“There’s nothing to see here except a lot of steel furniture and grubby offices. You’re in the Seagram Building, right?”
“Right.” Herbie gave him the floor number.
“I’ll come over just as soon as the market closes. See ya.” He hung up.
Herbie pressed a button. “Cookie, a Mr. Kent Holbrooke is coming over around four-thirty or five.”
“I’ll stay until we’ve got him settled,” Cookie replied.
“You can ask him if he wants a drink,” Herbie said.
At five sharp, Cookie ushered Kent Holbrooke into Herbie’s office, and they shook hands. Holbrooke settled into the sofa.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Cookie asked.
“You got a single-malt scotch?”
“How about Laphroaig?”
“Perfect. No ice, just a splash.”
Cookie made the drink and poured Herbie a Knob Creek, then made her escape.
“Nice office,” Kent said, looking around.
“Thank you.”
“You’re pretty young, Herb. How long have you been a partner at Woodman and Weld?”
“I’m a senior associate, one rung below partner.”
“Oh, right, Marshall mentioned that. I’ve never dealt with a lawyer who wasn’t a partner in his firm.”
“You’ll get more attention and faster results from a hungry senior associate,” Herbie said.
“Good point.”
“Tell me about your business,” Herbie said.
“Businesses. I’m involved in a dozen or fifteen, I keep losing track of how many.”
“How are you typically involved?”
“Sometimes just as a venture capitalist. I prefer that with tech stuff that I don’t have a deep understanding of. Sometimes in partnerships, and sometimes I own the business.”
“Are they all techs?”
“Oh, no. I don’t care what the business is, just as long as it produces profits. For instance, I own a little group of three fancy dry cleaners and laundries called Jasper’s.”
“Then I am your customer,” Herbie said. “You do all my suits and shirts.”
“And they’re all running full blast,” Kent said. “I’m thinking of opening on the Upper West Side.”
“Why don’t you centralize the work and put on a second shift?”
“That’s a thought.”
“And if it’s working so well, why don’t you franchise?” Herbie asked.
Kent looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know anything about franchising,” he said.
“All you need is a law firm that does.”
“Are you a franchising specialist?”
“I’m a generalist. My job is to put together a team of the right people in the firm and liaise between you and them.”
“All right, I’ll put you to work,” Kent said.
“Would you like me to put together a presentation on franchising Jasper’s?”
“Sure, that’s a good start. I understand you’re representing one of Marshall’s start-ups. I’ve got a couple of those that could use some legal and accounting structuring. The techies know everything about tech, and nothing about business.”
Herbie handed him a legal pad. “Give me some names and numbers, and I’ll go see them. Nothing that will conflict with Marshall’s start-up, though.”
Kent took the pad and began writing.
There was a knock at the door, and Bill Eggers walked in. “I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“No, come in, Bill, and meet Kent Holbrooke, of the Holbrooke Group.”
They shook hands.
“We’re going to put together a presentation on franchising a group of high-end laundry/dry cleaners called Jasper’s that Kent owns.”
“Of course,” Eggers said. “My wife and I are your clients.”
“I’m liking Woodman and Weld better and better,” Kent said.