Ten minutes later, he asked why Crown Point's cash reserve assumed two state contracts would renew before written extensions had been issued. Vanessa's expression tightened. "There's no need to become defensive," she said. "We know our clients."
Norah opened her mouth, but Grant cut across her. "The assumption is too soft. We should treat both renewals as unconfirmed." Vanessa nodded.
"Exactly. That's the decisive thinking we need." Alicia's pen stopped moving. Amos noticed.
Vanessa continued. Crown Point works with governor's offices, transit authorities, and public agencies. Our partners have to project the right stature when they enter those rooms. Amos folded his hands.
Is stature measured by financial performance? He asked, "Or by what you believe an investor should look like?" No one answered. Howard Keane shifted forward, his lips parted.
Vanessa glanced toward him, and whatever he had intended to say disappeared. He looked down. Alicia saw it happen. Amos opened his portfolio and removed the capital commitment package.
More than 100 pages with the final authorization tab marked in blue. He set it before him without opening it. The sound was soft, yet it traveled the table. "I came here to evaluate an investment," he said.
"You've helped me complete the most important part." Vanessa leaned back. "Mr. Davenport, if this is some kind of test—" Amos returned the package to his portfolio.
"It wasn't," he said. "That's why the result matters." He stood, buttoned his jacket, and looked from Norah to Miriam, from Howard to Alicia, then across the remaining faces that had chosen silence because it felt safer than interruption. "I have enough information to make my decision."
He lifted the portfolio and walked toward the door. No one tried to stop him until his hand was on the handle. Miriam caught the door before it closed behind Amos. Mr. Davenport, he stopped near the elevator, one hand on his portfolio.