initially rejected as being too ugly. Then they generated more than a billion dollars in revenues for Coleco in two years.”
Sloane considered the information. “And the risk is that a company could pay a designer a lot of money and have the toy flop?”
“That, and there’s always the possibility of another manufacturer putting out a knockoff before the toy even reaches the market.”
“They just steal the idea?”
“Hey, if you’re not stealing someone’s ideas in this business, you’re not trying.”
Sloane thought of Kyle Horgan and his ransacked apartment. The building manager said he hadn’t seen him in a week.
CHAPTER
FOUR
KENDALL TOYS’ CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS
RENTON, WASHINGTON
The proverbial shit had hit the proverbial fan. Following through on her threat, Maxine Bolelli had issued a press release revealing Galaxy’s bid and Kendall’s rejection of that offer. Bolelli had also sent a letter to Fitzgerald and each member of Kendall’s board of directors, berating them for ignoring their fiduciary duty to Kendall’s stockholders. In New York, Wall Street analysts were expressing bewilderment that Kendall would turn down the offer, describing Fitzgerald as stubborn and short-sighted, and opining that the rejection was out of misguided loyalty to the Kendall family heritage—words obviously planted by Galaxy’s media people.
The morning before, Fitzgerald had walked from the conference room with a bounce in his step, confident about Kendall’s future. Now he was back in the same room feeling flat-footed and anything but certain.
“How bad is the fallout?” Barclay Reid asked. Kendall’s outside counsel, Reid was the managing partner of one of Seattle’s largest law firms, Reid, Matheson, and Goetz.
“Half a dozen faxes and e-mails,” Fitzgerald said. “The most polite have called me an idiot.”
“At least two lawsuits have been threatened,” Irwin Dean, Kendall’s president of operations, added. “Including one by Clay Mayfair.”
Everyone in the room knew Clay Mayfair, the infamous New York attorney who made a living suing corporations and their boards for breach of their fiduciary duty to shareholders.
“If Bolelli is serious, her next move will be to buy as much Kendall stock as she can,” Reid said, pacing an area by the windows.
The only time Fitzgerald had ever seen the woman sit was in court. At just a shade over five feet, Barclay Reid was nearly always the shortest person in the room, but after seeing her in front of a jury, Fitzgerald knew height was not an issue. In her late thirties and a type A personality, she was a perpetual ball of energy, always thinking, always moving. Her looks were equally deceiving. At first glance she appeared ordinary—drab brown hair cut in a bob, eyeglasses without frames nearly invisible on an attractive face despite no outward attempt at glamour. She wore no makeup or jewelry but for a cross on a gold chain about her neck. Her dark gray, off-the-rack summer suit and plain white blouse did nothing to accentuate her shape, though Fitzgerald had seen her in shorts and a tank top on the golf course and recognized a figure honed by daily workouts. And yet, despite her understated appearance, every eye in the room followed Reid as she paced the floor. She had that intangible ability to command attention by her sheer determination and earnestness in defending her clients. The law’s gain had been some ministry’s loss; Reid would have been dynamic at a pulpit.
“But so long as you and Sebastian maintain your interests, she can’t gain control.”
“She could pressure the hell out of us, though,” Dean said anxiously. “Any alternatives?”
Reid pressed her palms together beneath her chin as she paced. “Kendall could make its own offer, buy back stock from disgruntled shareholders, but that’s risky. The news has already sent the stock up two and a half points. It’s inflated. When it drops, you’ll be
Sloane considered the information. “And the risk is that a company could pay a designer a lot of money and have the toy flop?”
“That, and there’s always the possibility of another manufacturer putting out a knockoff before the toy even reaches the market.”
“They just steal the idea?”
“Hey, if you’re not stealing someone’s ideas in this business, you’re not trying.”
Sloane thought of Kyle Horgan and his ransacked apartment. The building manager said he hadn’t seen him in a week.
CHAPTER
FOUR
KENDALL TOYS’ CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS
RENTON, WASHINGTON
The proverbial shit had hit the proverbial fan. Following through on her threat, Maxine Bolelli had issued a press release revealing Galaxy’s bid and Kendall’s rejection of that offer. Bolelli had also sent a letter to Fitzgerald and each member of Kendall’s board of directors, berating them for ignoring their fiduciary duty to Kendall’s stockholders. In New York, Wall Street analysts were expressing bewilderment that Kendall would turn down the offer, describing Fitzgerald as stubborn and short-sighted, and opining that the rejection was out of misguided loyalty to the Kendall family heritage—words obviously planted by Galaxy’s media people.
The morning before, Fitzgerald had walked from the conference room with a bounce in his step, confident about Kendall’s future. Now he was back in the same room feeling flat-footed and anything but certain.
“How bad is the fallout?” Barclay Reid asked. Kendall’s outside counsel, Reid was the managing partner of one of Seattle’s largest law firms, Reid, Matheson, and Goetz.
“Half a dozen faxes and e-mails,” Fitzgerald said. “The most polite have called me an idiot.”
“At least two lawsuits have been threatened,” Irwin Dean, Kendall’s president of operations, added. “Including one by Clay Mayfair.”
Everyone in the room knew Clay Mayfair, the infamous New York attorney who made a living suing corporations and their boards for breach of their fiduciary duty to shareholders.
“If Bolelli is serious, her next move will be to buy as much Kendall stock as she can,” Reid said, pacing an area by the windows.
The only time Fitzgerald had ever seen the woman sit was in court. At just a shade over five feet, Barclay Reid was nearly always the shortest person in the room, but after seeing her in front of a jury, Fitzgerald knew height was not an issue. In her late thirties and a type A personality, she was a perpetual ball of energy, always thinking, always moving. Her looks were equally deceiving. At first glance she appeared ordinary—drab brown hair cut in a bob, eyeglasses without frames nearly invisible on an attractive face despite no outward attempt at glamour. She wore no makeup or jewelry but for a cross on a gold chain about her neck. Her dark gray, off-the-rack summer suit and plain white blouse did nothing to accentuate her shape, though Fitzgerald had seen her in shorts and a tank top on the golf course and recognized a figure honed by daily workouts. And yet, despite her understated appearance, every eye in the room followed Reid as she paced the floor. She had that intangible ability to command attention by her sheer determination and earnestness in defending her clients. The law’s gain had been some ministry’s loss; Reid would have been dynamic at a pulpit.
“But so long as you and Sebastian maintain your interests, she can’t gain control.”
“She could pressure the hell out of us, though,” Dean said anxiously. “Any alternatives?”
Reid pressed her palms together beneath her chin as she paced. “Kendall could make its own offer, buy back stock from disgruntled shareholders, but that’s risky. The news has already sent the stock up two and a half points. It’s inflated. When it drops, you’ll be
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