Lor Lu’s mobile eyebrows had raised questioningly. “True,” he said.
“Our business projections only extend for three months. And while the trend has been steadily upward, it’s not steep. And if anything, the Depression seems to be getting worse. If we’re going to install hundreds of new staff, rent or buy facilities for them, and pay them actual salaries, we need to bring in a lot of new customers. And except for speaking tours, we have about the tamest, least imaginative promotion conceivable. With no plans to increase it, so far as I can see. Is there something I haven’t been told? Or what?”
“Not at all. If I may use a cliché, what you see is what you get. We have no plans for expanded promotion. That doesn’t mean we won’t expand it, but we have no plans to.” His eyes were bright but inscrutable. “I’m confident the demand will be there as the counselors are available. Or shortly afterward. The physical universe does not often provide perfect timing, but the people will come to us.”
Frowning, she stared at him. “And that’s it?”
He laughed, the sound light in the winter sunshine slanting through his windows. “I have faith,” he said. “I recommend it to you. The Tao will provide.”
She snorted. “Famous last words.”
“True again. Nonetheless, act on it as a working assumption: the demand will be there.”
His grin had eased off to an easy smile. Deliberately to fit her mood, she had no doubt.
She returned to her office not greatly eased, to find a message on her phone. Duke Cochran wanted to talk to her “for a few minutes, at your earliest convenience.”
Well hell, she thought, why not? She could use some distraction before returning to what she’d been doing. It wasn’t easy to focus when she had serious misgivings about basic assumptions. Reaching, she dialed Duke’s number. He answered on the first buzz.
“Mr. Cochran,” she said, “this is Lee Shoreff. What did you want to talk about? I really can’t see the time for an interview this week.” Her tone, she realized, was brusque, an effect of her unsatisfactory talk with Lor Lu.
“Another interview wasn’t what I called about,” Cochran answered. “Though when you find an opportunity, I very much want to get together with you on that. No, this won’t take more than five or ten minutes. I’d like to talk with you about something more specific. In your office, this morning if possible.”
She frowned. “The best time would be right now. Before I get reimmersed in what I’m working on.”
“Great!” he said. “I’ll be right over.”
He hung up immediately, leaving her wondering what he might want to know about her work that she could possibly tell him. Minutes later he knocked. When he came in, he was breathing deeply, as if he’d run. “Hi,” he said. “How was your trip to Montana?”
He must have asked for her while she was away, and Marge had told him where she’d gone. “Interesting. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“Not primarily. But I do want to talk about it sometime soon. I want to visit it myself, when spring arrives.”
“So what do you want to talk about now?” she asked pointedly.
“I need some information, and I’m not sure you have it. Or whether you can give it to me if you do. Let me tell you what brought it up. I did a WebWorld search on Millennium’s financing, and its board of trustees. Aside from providing money, they seem mainly advisory. Actually they could be just window dressing, wealthy supporters who lend their names to help bring in more support. Seemingly—that’s seemingly—they don’t involve themselves in management. But they do make up the big gap between Millennium’s earned income and its expenses, as estimated by people who know how to figure those things. And—”
Lee interrupted. “If you’re looking for actual figures, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She said it crisply, decisively, leaving no room for discussion.
“No, no! That’s not it. But they’re very much in a position to insist their advice be taken, if they choose to. And it would be surprising if they didn’t, from time to time.