“Yes, yes, wonderful,” Benny blabbered, excited enough to give a full body shiver as he sat in his chair. “Well, wonderful, you can draw one up, yes? And I shall sign, and then,” Benny’s fists drummed on the table, and made dregs of beer in their glasses shake and slosh, “bam! Business!” Yes, business! Entrepreneurship! Success! Benny could hardly wait. If there were papers before him at that moment he would have signed straight away. Unfortunately, there were not. All he could do was fidget in his seat as if he had sat upon an anthill, grinning with pure glee. His future was finally going to be within his own hands.
The compliments landed, and Benny quickly turned into something semi-bashful and semi-proud, smiling more at the table than Mister Smith. Him, a natural. Him, obviously sincere! How wonderful, how absolutely wonderful. He opened his mouth to give modest cries of ‘oh, no, you are simply a natural teacher!’ yet before he could the question came, and Benny halted, accidentally biting his tongue in the process.
“Oh,” he said, trying his best to think of anything which he hadn’t mentioned, things which would impact their lovely little venture. “Uh, hm…” Benny’s mind was very, very blank. “I don’t think so? We have a high street, a church, the doctor’s office. The harbour. There’s very little to say about the rest. Oh! Oh, but I have yet to actually procure the factory. I will, mind you! Of course I will. But for the moment, it is not actually mine. So. Yes. That.” Yes, actually, Benny wondered if he should have made that clear, earlier. He was suddenly struck with the fear that Mister Smith would recant his offer. “It will be mine, though. You really needn’t fear. Think- think of my investment as insurance. I’ll get it. I really shall.”
“You can draw one up, yes?”
It took absolutely everything Roger had in him not to answer that question with flat-out laughter. He’d been too kind, branding Mister Forester merely naive; that word didn’t go far enough. He almost shook his head in pity- and not false pity, either, you couldn’t help but pity this poor young idiot- but just in time he caught himself and turned the movement into an easy nod. Oh, he could have a contract drawn up, alright. One that placed a great deal of the risk on Mister Forester’s end of the bargain, and a great deal of the reward on his own. Really, he wasn’t doing anything wrong by that. It was exactly what any successful businessman did, and if he wasn’t quite what could called be successful yet, well, he’d be there soon enough.
He waved off the matter of the cider factory. So Mister Forester had promised a bit more than he actually had to give. Well, so had he, even if he was the only one of the two of them who knew it. “That won’t be a problem,” he said. “With an investment as proof of good faith, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll have your name on that factory’s deed in no time. And of course, as your partner, I’d do my best to help things along if you did run into any trouble.”
With that said, he brushed his hands together briskly and stood up, no longer bothering to restrain the bright grin that threatened to split his face. “If that’s the only thing you can think of, I think we can consider this a bargain struck. I’ll get that contract drawn up as quickly as possible, and after that, as they say, the sky’s the limit.” Ending their meeting the way it began, he offered his hand to the other man. “I know it’s a little trite, but please, believe me when I say it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
