Their meal is complete and Webber has just ordered coffee liqueur for them. Webber begins another of his stories, and this time he tells Shepherd how he tracked down Meredith, pausing the beginning of his memory as their drinks are served.
I have a desperate need to see her again, and so I track her down to her place of employment – the Padgett and Co. advertising agency in downtown Seattle. With an air of self-importance, I make my way, unannounced of course, to her desk, which is located in the stenographic department. My name is well known and other young and hopeful career women in the office are somewhat surprised by my presence. I apologise for my rough treatment of her at the Alafair and offer my signature in the endorsement of her fountain pen.
"I would like to point out that you caught me at a difficult moment. I am, however, not without a heart, and can produce x-ray pictures as evidence," I say. She giggles at my simple joke, but it is an infectious giggle, something to which you cannot but smile when you hear it. "Now, for reasons that are far too embarrassing to mention, I would very much like to endorse that pen of yours."
She accepts my apology and I sign the deal immediately. I then invite her to dinner to celebrate, which she agrees to.
"From that point, Meredith became my protégé if you will," he says. Shepherd is still listening as he picks up the chocolate mint that accompanied his coffee liqueur. "We became steadfast friends and she bestowed upon me the promotion of her burgeoning career, which began with my endorsement of the pen."
"Why did you feel the need to take her career into your own hands?" Shepherd asks, speaking for the first time in a while.
"I merely secured other endorsements on her behalf and introduced her to important clients. I gave her the start she needed, but it was her own talent and imagination that enabled her to climb to the top of her profession and stay there. Meredith always had an eager mind and she was always quick to seize anything that would improve her mind or her appearance."
"Her appearance?"
"Meredith had innate breeding; she was a natural beauty. But she allowed my judgment and taste to override that. I selected a more appropriate hairstyle for her. I taught her what clothes were more becoming of a woman such as herself. It was through me that Meredith made her contacts. She met everyone – the famous and the infamous. Her youth, her beauty, her poise and charm captivated them all. She had warmth and vitality, and authentic magnetism. Wherever she went, Meredith stood out. Men admired her. Women envied her."
"So Meredith became well known?"
"As well known as Richard Webber's white carnation," he states, a hint of pride in his voice.
The following morning, Derek Shepherd is sitting in his office. He squints his eyes together in a vain attempt to wake himself up a little more. He did not get much sleep the previous night as Richard Webber's voice resounded in his head, interrupting his slumber.
Shepherd cannot help but feel a little sick at how Webber took advantage of the young Meredith Grey. He is disgusted at how a Svengali-like Webber became Meredith's mentor, grooming her and ultimately taking credit for her sophistication, cultural development and top-level success. Webber moulded Meredith into a narrative portrait; he restyled her hair and chose her clothing for her. He preyed on her vulnerability, on her youth and innocence and what is worse, Shepherd thinks, is that Webber does not believe he did anything wrong.
He then analyses the relationship from Meredith's point of view. After tracing Meredith's family history, Shepherd discovers that Meredith's father is dead, and that her mother gave her up as an infant. He presumes Webber fulfilled a fatherly need for the impressionable young Meredith and therefore, they had a mutually satisfying relationship in all but one respect.
The detective recalls from the previous evening, that he asked Webber whether or not he and Meredith had a sexual relationship. Webber denied the accusation vehemently, insisting that their relationship was purely platonic. With the vast amount of alcohol he had consumed, Webber seemed to forget that he was a suspect in a murder case and that he was currently conversing with a detective.
"Meredith looked elsewhere for her sexual interests," Shepherd recalls him saying.
He does not doubt that Meredith saw Webber as anything more than a fatherly friend, but gets the impression that Webber feels threatened by any male that showed Meredith attention. Shepherd recalls Webber's possessive drunken babble:
"…Then one Tuesday, she phoned and said she couldn't make it. But it happened again the following Friday. I couldn't understand it. I felt betrayed; Tuesday and Friday's were our night. And yet, I knew Meredith would never betray anyone. I went for a walk. I walked for a long time. I found myself outside of Meredith's house. The lights were on and it pleased me to know that she was at home. That is, until I saw that she was not alone. I waited to see who it was. It was Karev, who had recently painted her portrait. I had never liked the man. He was so obviously conscious of looking more like an athlete than an artist. I returned to my apartment and spent the rest of the night writing a column about him. I demolished him, exposed his camouflaged imitations of better painters, and ridiculed his theories. I did it for her, knowing that Karev was unworthy of her. Her portrait was a masterpiece because it was a labour of love. It didn't last. There were others, of course. Her own volition ruled them out before it became necessary for me to intervene, though."
"…Necessary for me to intervene," mutters Shepherd as he recalls the final speech of Richard Webber before bidding him good night the previous evening.