“Jake?” said a voice behind him, and Jake startled, then swiveled his chair around. Amy stood in the open doorway, puzzled. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”
“Amy, sorry.” Jake tried to get his head in the game. A cold sunlight filled his office, which had a side wall of light wood shelves, and a beige leather couch and matching chairs across his desk. His desk had a glass top that matched the one on a round conference table. Mullioned panels flanked his doorway.
“Mrs. LeMenile is out in reception. A new client, remember? She’s on your calendar for ten o’clock. You ready for her?”
“Sure. Yes.”
“You okay?” Amy searched his face with large, espresso-brown eyes. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d lied to Amy, except for her surprise birthday parties, which he lied to her about routinely. “By the way, I had a fender bender over the weekend, so expect the insurance company to call.”
“I was wondering.” Amy frowned with concern. “Meanwhile, did you hear about that hit-and-run on Friday night? The girl went to Concord Chase? Did Ryan know her?”
“No.” Jake forced himself not to show any reaction. “Also, we may get a visit from a guy I know, named Lewis Deaner.”
“Okay, I’ll go get Mrs. LeMenile. Be right back.” Amy left and returned a few minutes later with a handsome older woman. “Jake, this is Mrs. Guinevere LeMenile,” Amy said, before she slipped out, closing the door.
“Hello, Mrs. LeMenile.” Jake rose to greet her, extending a hand, which Mrs. LeMenile shook, her grip surprisingly strong. She had sleek silvery hair, which was clipped back off of her lined face, and she was tall, weathered, and lean in a camelhair jacket, jeans, with brown boots that lent her a horsey air. Her hooded eyes were a lively gray-green, alert and sharp, set off by a green silk scarf.
“Jake, call me Guinevere. Wonderful to meet you.”
“Please, sit down.” Jake gestured to his conference table and sat down opposite her. “Can I get you some coffee or tea?”
“No, thanks, I haven’t much time.” Guinevere set her leather bag on the floor and plunked down in the chair, crossing her legs. “I’m here because my friend Helen Weissman recommended you. She can’t say enough good things about you and you made her a significant amount of money.”
“Thank you, and I think the world of Helen.”
“I’m a widow, and my husband died two years ago, leaving me with an estate of $5 million.” Guinevere’s manner was authoritative, and she didn’t pull out any bank statements, notes, or scraps of paper like many of his first-time clients. “Two million of that are the proceeds from his life-insurance policy, one is our combined savings, 401(k), and pension fund. I live in our home, which is worth two. My money is currently in short-term Treasury bills and I’m making nothing, but I’ve become very dissatisfied with the fees I’m paying my current financial planner. Even though I negotiated them down from 1 percent to .5 percent, it still seems utterly ridiculous for what is essentially a liquid asset, don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” Jake answered, because she was absolutely right. Suddenly his attention was drawn away by activity at Amy’s desk, but he could only see part of what was going on through the mullioned windows.
“I think I’m ready to put that money to work for me, so I’ve come to you. Why don’t we begin by your telling me about Gardenia?”
“Sure. Right.” Jake wondered if it was Deaner at Amy’s desk, which would be odd. Guests had to wait in reception before being sent back. “We have almost a hundred… million dollars under our management.” Jake felt himself falter, distracted. “We look for high-quality stocks from established companies, ones that pay dividends, and—”
“I read that on your website.” Guinevere waved him into silence with a wrinkled hand. “I’d rather you explain how you make your investment decisions, exactly.”
“I would be your portfolio manager, but here we make our investment decisions as a group.” Jake tried to look past Guinevere to see what was going on, but couldn’t. “The investment committee, which I head, uh… meets three times a week and we share our expertise. We invest only in quality growth stocks, er, and there are only approximately thirty to forty of those.”
“Like which ones, for example?”
Jake had to think a minute, though he’d picked the stocks himself. “Disney, IBM, Eaton Corporation, Qualcomm, ExxonMobil, Johnson & Johnson, and Chevron, to name a few.”
“That list could use some tweaking, don’t you think?” Guinevere sniffed. “It doesn’t include the biotech companies, which are a very good buy right now.”
Jake could tell he was losing her, by a new distance in her demeanor. He tried to get his head in the game. “That brings me to an important point about Gardenia. We don’t follow trends or crazes. If you read the biotech companies are hot, that doesn’t cause us to rebalance your portfolio.”
“Why not? You’ll miss out. Rather,Iwill.”
“Our view is long-term.” Jake felt his mouth go dry when he saw Amy getting up. He caught a glimpse of her talking to someone, but couldn’t see whom. “A bubble can burst and a fad stock… can turn out to be a dog, and we don’t want you in that position. We diversify where appropriate to lower your risk.”
“Well, obviously.”
Jake couldn’t get back on track. He couldn’t have Deaner out there, on the loose, saying God knows that. “Nor do we… churn your portfolio. Our turnover average… is 15 to 25 percent over a year, much lower than the typical 75 percent.”
“But your fees are higher than a place like Vanguard.”
“That’s true, but… we charge nothing to manage Treasury bills or similarly liquid assets, and we charge 1.5 percent on stocks and 1 percent on—”
