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risky for us not to have someone in-house. Candidly, it would be of particular use to me to have someone whom I can put in front of clients as my proxy. If they can’t see me, they can see my son-in-law. See what I’m saying?”
    â€œI’m not a pretty Investor Relations girl wearing a nice suit.”
    Carter chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short, Paul. You deserve this job. But you’re also great with people, and right now there are a lot of folks who need seeing. When things calm down, we’ll get you back into more of a traditional GC role if that’s what you want. But for the moment, I’d like it if you could come help me out with the client side of the business. You don’t ski, do you, son?”
    â€œNo, sir. Last winter in Vail was my first time.”
    â€œWas it?” Carter’s left eyebrow rose in slight amusement. “Didn’t show.”
    He couldn’t tell if Carter was being serious. Paul had spent the entire vacation with his knees turned into an uncontrollable pizza wedge, hoping not to run into his wife. All of the Darlings were expert skiers. Every President’s Day weekend, the family spent four days together out in Vail or Gstaad or Whistler. Paul had been able to plead his way out of the trip in years prior, claiming one work obligation or another, but the previous year, Merrill had insisted. When she found out that he had never set foot on a ski slope in his life, she surprised him by arranging for a private instructor—a peppy woman named Linda—to babysit him all weekend. It was one of those misguided presents, simultaneously thoughtful and completely thoughtless. Generous and hopelessly emasculating.
    â€œI started alpine skiing at the age of six,” Carter announced. He had told Paul this before but Paul smiled encouragingly anyway. Carter always seemed to relax when he talked about one of his sports. “I still enjoy it, but telemarking is my true love. Do you know what telemarking is, Paul?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œI like to think of it as a blend of cross-country and alpine skiing. The binding of the boot attaches only at the toe, so your heel can come up off the ski. You get the rush of downhill, but with the flexibility of cross-county. Best of both worlds, I think. The boots allow you to really feel the mountain, to work with it.” Carter’s eyes grew soft and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “I think good investors tend to be good skiers,” he said. He leaned in, as though he were sharing a trade secret. “They stay on their toes. They react fast. Even if that means changing course on a hairpin.”
    Paul shifted in his chair, trying not to look bemused. “Given my performance in Vail, sir, I’m not sure that bodes well for me.”
    â€œAhh, we’ll make a skier of you yet, Paul,” Carter said solemnly. “Point is: These markets require agility. If we’re going to survive, we’re going to have to stay flexible.”
    â€œIndeed.” Paul concurred, wondering if he was in over his head. It was a done deal now. Maybe it had always been, and everyone but Paul had the prescience to understand that.
    â€œIt’s going to be hectic around here for a while. You’ll have to hit the ground running.”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œTake a day or so to think it over, if you like. Come back to me when you’re ready and we’ll talk compensation. And Paul?”
    â€œYes, sir?” Paul said, jumping to his feet.
    â€œCall me Carter, for chrissake. I was just going to say, think up a title for yourself while you’re at it. General Counsel, SVP; don’t care what it is, as long as you don’t come off sounding like a member of the Windsor family.”

    In his first few weeks of work, Paul was surprised to discover how big an operation Delphic actually was. He felt as though he had opened the back of a giant