Chapter Ten
Ten Years Later, New York HOLT“Mr. Calson?”
I look up from the text I’m sending to Zahir who’s in town tonight. Della, the PR consultant we hired when I was named acting CEO of Cal-Mart, stands in front of my office’s drop-down screen looking back at me expectantly.
“Do you have any initial thoughts?” she asks. Then she steps back so I have an unobstructed view of the screen which displays the headshots of nine beautiful women, tiled in a three-by-three square.
Della has done a good job, I decide, even though I hadn’t listened to a word of her presentation. Looking like a hopeful new crop of Bachelor contestants, the women on the screen offer fetching smiles. They’re all beautiful and just a few years north of twenty-five. Babymakers who Della believes will provide me with
