The two men sat opposite each other at a small table. The restaurant was quite busy and severs were in constant motion between their station, the kitchen and the floor. Both men clad business suits of the day, grey and grey-blue, and held menus in front of them. They weren’t reading them. It was all part of the façade on this ordinary late morning just passed light moon. Dishes were clanging and orders were called out as each man paused, looked up and around, at each other in silence and returned to their contemplations.
“He’ll believe anything that I tell him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. I’ve worked with their family for years. He trusts my judgment. Besides, contract law was never his strong subject. That’s why I’m in his employ.”
Their eyes met and both smiled. K’Normians were shrewd businessmen, highly conservative and ever conscious of the bottom line. Aside from the Westen, there were no natives on K’Normia. The Terrans had been the dominating species for nearly 150 years. Native simply meant born on the planet. Their culture was primarily of Federation tradition, however, over the years they had developed their own unique customs and adapted some of the Westen ritual and pomp. Business meetings over a mid-morning meal were one such adaptation.
“But how are you going to convince him not to sell? The offer is highly reasonable and it is obvious that his interest in the business has waned.”
“Just leave that all up to me, Barclay. I know how to cast lures.”
A young server approached the table with a bubbly charm,
“Are you two gentlemen— Mr. Swanson! How are you today?”
He looked up from his menu and was staring into Joia’s bright blue eyes.
“Good Morning, Joia. When did you start working here?”
“Today’s actually my first day”, she claimed in an almost apologetic manner as she clutched her PADD close to her chest. “Mom thought I needed to get out of the house this year during first break. I am 6 annuls now, Mr. Swanson.”
There were three major breaks in the school year, one in late Koon that usually ended after the first week of Lapi, the second was post-Kie during mon of Sela and the third was the Neannul break which straddled Sune and Anna.
“Indeed you are, Joia.” He looked at her with a kind eye. Although he had no offspring he felt parental pride for a moment. “Please forgive my rudeness; this is Mr. Barclay, a business consultant. And this,” he paused with a quaint hand gesture, “is Mr. Rosetto’s daughter, Joia.”
They nodded to each other as Swanson quickly glanced at the menu again.
“I think I’ll just have coffee and a cheese Danish, Mr. Barclay?”
“The same, I should think. With lemon.”
Joia jotted down their order and walked away with a huge smile.


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August 2010
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