“I think so. You’re getting up already?” I assumed he would want to stay home under the circumstances.
“I’m not letting some twit turn me into a recluse. Colin seems to think that lawyer will be able to shut this whole thing down fairly quickly. In the meantime, we have to go on with our lives.”
Knowing his mind was made up, I told him that he was right. But unlike most days, he stayed in bed with me for two full snooze cycles. When the alarm sounded a third time, he kissed the back of my neck, told me he loved me, and made his way into the shower.
I was on my iPad, googling his name, when his phone let out a single staccato buzz on the nightstand. I never look, but that morning I did. It was his calendar reminding him of an appointment at noon. The event was entered simply as “Kerry.”
He was buttoning his shirt cuffs when I pretended to wake up again. “You’re still home,” I said with a sleepy smile.
“Sorry for the noise.”
“No, I like knowing you’re here. So what do you have scheduled for today?”
“Not much. I’m going to make a point of going to campus. If those petty fuckers think I’m in hiding, they’ll start circling like wolves. They need to know that I have every intention of fighting back if they try to get rid of me.”
I suggested he find a way to remind the dean that at least three of Jason’s senior colleagues were married to former students. “Anything scheduled, or do you think you might be able to come home early?”
The pause that followed felt long, but could have been completely imagined, like what I perceived as a quick glance at the cell phone that had buzzed minutes earlier. He popped a piece of Nicorette from his nightstand into his mouth.
“Just a lunch meeting with someone from Oasis.”
The name sounded familiar, but he could tell from my blank expression that I was having trouble filling in the details.
“The world needs water?” he said as a prompt.
Their slogan.
Jason’s early academic scholarship applied principles of moral philosophy to corporate governance practices. I made a habit of reading his articles, but had a hard time understanding them. The book that made him famous was a pop version of his ivory-tower work, weaving together liberal politics, corporate scandals, and stories across history and cultures to demonstrate a correlation between economic health and equal treatment of citizens. His consulting group, FSS, was an outgrowth of his academic work. In theory, he was an adviser to corporations, teaching them how to maximize profits by following guiding principles of morality and equality. But he also paired corporate clients with financial clients, essentially endorsing private, for-profit entities to investors who supported his theories.
As I understood it, Oasis specialized in bringing clean water to different parts of the world. A few months earlier, Jason had been working nearly full-time, counseling and finding financing for Oasis until something happened to give him pause.
“Is the meeting about that problem you mentioned?” I asked.
“Did I mention that?”
“Well, not in detail.”
He looked up from the belt he was buckling. “You’re actually interested?”
“Of course.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “They may not be as kosher as everyone thinks.”
“Well, that’s not good. Water sort of needs to be clean?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the water itself that’s the problem. Oasis is a major up-and-comer on the CSR lists because of the substance of what they do: treating and transporting water. They’re on the cutting edge of developing systems for global water security—basically, making sure the entire world has access. It’s truly transformative stuff. But as usual, too many of the CSR gatekeepers are idiots.”
I was following so far. The CSR lists ranked companies based on their “corporate social responsibility.” Jason’s book and podcast had brought those lists into the mainstream, exposing the general public to their existence, but also demonstrating how companies can manipulate the CSR rankings for marketing purposes. A retailer, for example, might tout its “green” operations—reusable bags, organic foods, energy-saving operations—while capping employee hours to avoid paying for health benefits. Jason had made a name for himself by publicly shaming several Fortune 500 companies and the so-called analysts who supported them without due diligence. Jason’s stamp of approval was now the gold star of the CSR world. His consulting company helped companies develop CSR policies and paired worthwhile firms with major financial backers.
“So what did the others miss?” I asked.
“The technology itself is worth nothing if it’s not implemented where it’s needed most,” he said. “Getting clean water to Arizona is great, but getting it into farms and villages in remote parts of the world is the game changer. Needless to say, the potential for corruption in that process is huge.”
“And you found corruption?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure. But yeah, I think so. The books don’t look right. Inconsistent payments to local vendors that don’t line up to actual work or equipment. It reeks of massive kickbacks—basically bribing the power brokers to get into the territory.”
“Is that really all that bad, if it means the locals get water?”
“Except my entire life’s work is about not making those kinds of compromises. We don’t pollute the planet to create jobs, or use slave labor to bring the Internet to developing nations. Sorry, I’m ranting. In this particular case, it’s not only the usual tradeoffs. Given the region I’m talking about, that money might have gone to terrorists and warlords.”
Jason was more animated than I’d seen him in days.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t prove my suspicions, but I also can’t turn a blind eye. Basically, I’ve got a conflict of interest. Oasis is my client, but so are the investors I paired them with. Plus, there’s my own reputation.”
“Your ‘brand,’” I added with air quotes, because I knew how much the word irked him.
“Precisely. And most importantly, at the end of the day, I need to be able to look at myself in the mirror and believe I’ve done the right thing. So, yeah, if anything’s been weighing on me, it’s been this clusterfuck, not the nonsense with what’s-her-name.”
Rachel Sutton, I said to myself. She had a name.
“I’m hoping the lunch meeting I’m having today might help. I’ve been trying for a month and a half to get one of my contacts at Oasis to come clean and do the right thing.”
I told him that I was sorry he had so much on his plate at one time.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who decided to take all this on. You of all people warned me.” He kissed me on the head. “You smell so good.” He kissed me one more time on the cheek and stood up. “I’ll try to be back home by the time Spencer gets out of school. Maybe we can pick him up together, stop at Agata on the way home for lamb chops?”
“Sounds great.” I pictured the two of us standing outside Spencer’s school, holding hands in front of all the gossipy moms. He had a point about going face-to-face with the circling wolves. He had his pack, I had mine.
When I heard the front door close, I tapped the top of my iPad screen and typed in “Oasis Water Kerry.”
Within a few clicks, I confirmed that the vice president of marketing for Oasis Inc. was a woman named Kerry Lynch. That was my husband’s lunch meeting, exactly as he had told me.
I felt silly for checking.
14
Spencer was already scrambling eggs in the kitchen when I walked downstairs. He had two small plates on the counter, plus a jar of salsa.