Manhunting

by Jennifer Crusie

  “I was raised on big business, Mr. Vandenburg. I cut my teeth on stocks and bonds and wrote my first school paper on leveraged buyouts. My third-grade teacher was quite impressed. I cannot help but feel, however, that she would be even more impressed with the magnitude of your ability to ignore what is happening under your nose at the same time you are facilitating it.”

  “Are you accusing me of impropriety?”

  “Either impropriety or ineptitude on a truly magnificent scale,” Kate snapped. “With you, possibly both.”

  Mr. Vandenburg cleared his throat ominously. “Perhaps it would be better if the firm of Bertram Svenson, Ltd. assigned someone else to our little problem,” he threatened.

  “What a good idea,” Kate said. “I suggest the SEC.”

  She heard a click on the other end of the phone as Mr. Vandenburg hung up, and then her door opened.

  “It’s just me,” Jessie said as she backed in holding two waxy white paper bags. She dropped them on Kate’s desk. “Sugar and caffeine,” she said. “Apple fritters and black coffee. You look like hell.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said. “I feel like hell. I always knew I worked with scum, but I never realized it was this bad.” She pulled a foam cup from the bag and pried the lid off. “This smells good. Are the fritters from Debbie’s?”

  “Yep. She sends her love and said to tell you that business is great and she’s thankful for your advice every day.”

  “I need more Debbies and fewer Vandenburgs,” Kate said. “Unfortunately, it’s a Vandenburg kind of town.” She sipped her coffee and stared wistfully at the fritter Jessie shoved in front of her.

  “Who’s Vandenburg?” Jessie asked as she opened her own coffee.

  “One of several jerks I am currently trying to keep from financially murdering their own companies.” She sighed and then looked at her best friend, who was blithely chomping away on a fritter. “You know, I used to enjoy this, but now... I’m losing my edge, Jess.”

  “You?” Jessie snorted. “Never. How many morons did you slash today?”

  “Not enough,” Kate said. “I want to stay and fight the good fight, but this is ridiculous.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m so tired of this, Jessie.”

  Jessie dropped her fritter on the floor in surprise. “You’re kidding. That’s great.”

  She bent to pick up her fritter and Kate said, “No, it isn’t. This is my career.”

  “You have a very clean floor,” Jessie said, examining her fritter. “There’s no dirt on here at all.” She bit into the doughnut again, chewed, swallowed, and said, “So have this career somewhere else. Like, say, Kentucky.”

  “No,” Kate said.

  “You’d go back if Jake wasn’t there,” Jessie said. “You miss it.”

  “Maybe,” Kate said. She pulled her fritter toward her and looked at it sadly. “I’m so miserable, I’m not even hungry.”

  “You miss Jake, too,” Jessie said. “I can’t believe you’re being such a wimp about this.”

  “I am not a wimp,” Kate said. “It’s been six weeks, and he hasn’t called. He probably wouldn’t recognize my name.”

  “Oh, please,” Jessie said. “Spare me.”

  “He’s probably forgotten I exist. Six weeks.” She looked at Jessie, the hurt plain in her eyes. “Six weeks, and he hasn’t even called once. I’ve given up checking my machine. I buried it under my dry cleaning because every time I go home there’s either no blinking light or, worse, there is one and it’s somebody trying to sell me something.” She shook her head and gestured to her office. “This is all I’ve got, Jess. And I hate it.”

  Her secretary buzzed her again. “Tim Davis of Davis Enterprises on two.”

  “Yet another jerk,” Kate said and picked up the phone. “Hello, Tim.”

  “What the hell is this about not laying off the Princeton plant?”

  “It’s not cost-effective,” Kate said. “The money you save in the layoffs will be counteracted by your retraining fees and start-up costs when the plant kicks into gear again. Also, it’s very bad PR, laying off people who have worked for you for twenty years.” Kate clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. “That kind of thing is right up there with ripping off the pension fund. And speaking of the pension fund, I was just going over some interesting figures.”

  “Who the hell are you working for?”

  “My daddy,” Kate said. “He’s a son of a bitch, but he never stole from widows and orphans. Clean this up, Tim.”

  He hung up on her, and she dropped the phone back in its cradle. She looked over at Jessie and said, “I hate this. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.”

  “What you need here,” Jessie said, “is a plan.” She reached across Kate’s desk and pulled a memo pad toward her.

  “Oh, no, I don’t,” Kate said.

  “Why not?” Jessie said. “It worked before. Give me a pen.”

  “Yes,” Kate said. “It worked beautifully. That’s why I’m back here, lonely and miserable....”

  “Now as I recall,” Jessie said, ignoring her, “first we set goals. In this case, I think the goal should be to get you married to Jake.” She stretched her arm across the desk and took Kate’s pen.

  “Jessie,” Kate began, and Jessie overrode her again.

  “Now, what’s keeping you from marrying Jake?”

  “Well, he’s not speaking to me, and that’s a real drawback,” Kate said, sarcastically.

  “We don’t know that he’s not speaking to you,” Jessie said. “We just know that he’s not calling you. There’s a difference.”

  “At the moment, it escapes me,” Kate said, but Jessie wrote down, “1. He won’t call,” and then looked at Kate again. “What else?”

  “Jessie,” Kate said, but Jessie said, “Look, the man loves you. You love him. And I’m going to get you back together. What else?”

  “He thinks he might love me,” Kate corrected. “He was still pondering the question when I left.”

  “Okay,” Jessie said and wrote, “2. He thinks he might love her.” She looked down at the list and said, “This is coming along nicely. What else?”

  “Well,” Kate said, seething as she thought about it, “he hates confrontation. But he also hates women who manipulate him, which pretty much cuts off all form of human contact except sex.”

  “How does he feel about sex?”

  “He’s heavily in favor of it,” Kate said, wondering gloomily if he still was, and if so, with whom.

  “Okay,” Jessie said, and wrote down, “3. He hates confrontation and manipulation.”

  “Plus,” Kate said, “he’s not working. He’s just wasting himself, and that drives me crazy.”

  “Well, it is his life,” Jessie began, and Kate overrode her.

  “It’s a terrible waste and he knows it. He’s just running away from commitment of any kind. And what really makes me crazy is that he uses the opposite argument for keeping me away. He says there’d be no career for me there, so I have to go. But there’s no career for him there and he gets to stay.”

  “Well, you would go nuts not working,” Jessie pointed out fairly, but she wrote down, “4. He’s not working. 5. He runs away from commitment. 6. He thinks there’s no career for her there.”

  “Okay, read me the list,” Kate said gloomily, and Jessie did.

  “Is that it?” Jessie said. “We can fix this stuff.”

  “No, there’s another one,” Kate said. “He doesn’t want to get married. And I do. I want it all. Commitment, rings, the church, the whole thing.”

  “Okay,” Jessie said and wrote down, “7. He doesn’t want to get married.” She shoved the list across to Kate. “Piece of cake.”

  Kate looked at her in disbelief. “Jessie, this is awful. What do you mean, piece of cake?”

  “Well, you’re going to have to do some compromising,” Jessie said. “If the man doesn’t want a career, he doesn’t want a career.”

  Kate frowned and said, “Maybe. Wh
at about the rest?”

  Jessie pulled the list back and studied it. “Well, number one really is easy. He won’t call? You call him.”

  “And sit and listen to his embarrassed silence on the other end? No.”

  “Then go down and see him. It’s only a four-hour drive. You miss Nancy. Penny’s down there. It’s been a month. Go visit.”

  “I don’t know...” Kate said.

  “Do you want him or not?” Jessie snapped.

  Kate thought about Jake, about how good it felt just to be with him, about how right she felt whenever he was around. “I want him,” she said.

  “Great,” Jessie said. “Now number two. He thinks he might love you.” She looked up at Kate. “It’s been a month. He may know for sure by now.”

  “Which is why he hasn’t called,” Kate said. “I hate this list.”

  “Do you love him?” Jessie demanded.

  Kate swallowed and said, “Yes.”

  “Well, you haven’t called him, either,” Jessie said. “Silence does not necessarily indicate a lack of interest. He could just be as big a chicken about this as you are.”

  “Chicken?” Kate said, but Jessie moved on down the list.

  “Now, number three, he’s going to have to give in on. I mean, you either confront or manipulate. Personally, I favor confrontation.”

  “I know,” Kate said. “That is abundantly clear to everyone who knows you.”

  “So, go down there and confront him. Tell him you love him and you’re insisting on marriage.”

  “And when he says, ‘I think I remember you, vaguely,’ I can just crawl under the nearest rock.”

  “Stop it,” Jessie said. “You know damn well he remembers you more than vaguely. Now, number four.”

  “I’m still not happy about numbers one, two, and three,” Kate said, but Jessie said, “Number four we’ve already decided you’re giving in on. If he doesn’t want a career, he doesn’t have to have one. Number five is really number seven so we’ll put that off. Number six—”

  “I don’t remember the numbers anymore,” Kate said. “What was number five?”

  “Number six is a career for you down there. That we can do if we just work on it,” Jessie said. “Look, you keep telling me how overworked this Will character is. And the place must be full of little craft shops and stuff like that run by people whose idea of bookkeeping is a legal pad under the register.”

  “Jessie, none of those things is a full-time job,” Kate said.

  “Not one of them, maybe,” Jessie said. “But maybe all of them are.”

  “What?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Do them all. Once people start to hear about you, they’ll come in from other places, too. All of that stuff together would keep you busy enough doing freelance consulting.” She sipped some coffee. “I also think you ought to buy into Nancy’s bar. You need to have something to fix, and that could take years.”

  “Nancy doesn’t want to sell,” Kate said.

  “She doesn’t want to sell all of it,” Jessie said. “You could talk her into half, expanding with the money you’d put in. You could convince her.”

  “That wouldn’t be right,” Kate said. “It’s her bar. It wouldn’t be right for me to try—”

  “It’s good for the bar. It’s good for Nancy. And it’s good for Toby’s Corners,” Jessie said flatly. “Stop being such a wimp. Do it.”

  “Carl Avery of Woolf Technologies, line three,” Kate’s secretary said, and Kate groaned and picked up the line.

  “Kate! Darling, how are you?”

  “What do you want, Carl?” Kate said. “I’ve been talking to morons all morning. I have no patience left.”

  “Well, then, I’ll get right to the point,” Carl said cheerily. “This dividend you wanted us to pay? Bad idea, Katie girl. Very bad. I’ll just pencil that out, what say?”

  “Over my dead body,” Kate said, taking her pen back from Jessie. “Your stockholders are due a dividend. Pay it.”

  “Kate.” Carl chuckled. “Kate, Kate, Kate.”

  “Carl,” Kate said, tapping her pen hard against her desk, “pay it or I’ll put you on my SEC Christmas-gift list.”

  “Kate,” he said with much less enthusiasm, “this is not good business. That’s what we pay your firm for— good business advice.”

  “Carl,” Kate said, “what you want to do is morally repugnant and marginally illegal. This is good business advice.”

  “I’ll talk to your father,” Carl said abruptly.

  “Good idea,” Kate said. “Maybe he’ll send me to bed without my supper. Who do you think you’re kidding?”

  But Carl had already hung up.

  “I’m telling you,” Jessie said, “Toby’s Corners is full of Debbies. And no Vandenburgs except on the golf course. And no— Who was the moron on the phone?”

  “Carl Avery,” Kate said. “A long-standing client and potential felon.”

  “Well, there are no Carl Averys in Toby’s Corners, either.” Jessie finished her fritter and licked the sugar off her fingers. “You could help little businesses and make Nancy’s bar famous—”

  “Maybe Nancy doesn’t want a famous bar,” Kate said.

  “Well, she’s going to get one. Which brings us to number seven,” Jessie said. “Marriage and commitment.”

  “Ouch. That is the big one,” Kate said, wincing. “Are you sure we solved one through six?”

  “Shut up,” Jessie said. “You’re going to have to propose.”

  “No,” Kate said.

  “Yes,” Jessie said. “If you want something in life, you have to go after it If Jake is allergic to marriage, you’re just going to have to make the first move.”

  “He’ll say no,” Kate said. “You don’t know Jake.”

  “No, but I know you,” Jessie said. “And no man in his right mind would say no to you.”

  “Jake’s not in his right mind.”

  “He loves you.”

  “Maybe,” she said, and Jessie groaned.

  “Look,” she said. “This is your choice. Are you going to choose to be happy with Jake and Nancy and Penny down south, or miserable with Vandenburg, Avery, and Whatsis up here?”

  “Well, if I stay up here I have you, too,” Kate pointed out.

  “No, you don’t,” Jessie said. “If you walk away from this, I’m never speaking to you again.”

  “Let me see that list again,” Kate said, and Jessie handed it to her. Kate brushed the fritter sugar off it and studied it. It was a lousy list, but it was doable. “All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

  Jessie shoved the phone toward her so fast it almost skidded off the desk. “Call Nancy. Buy into that bar.”

  “Now?”

  “Of course, now,” Jessie said. “Let the company pay for the call. Do it.”

  Kate froze, staring at the phone. “Just like that. Change my whole life, just like that.”

  “Yeah, just like that. What the hell.” Jessie looked at Kate closely. “You look strange. Are you okay?”

  “I’m terrified,” Kate said. “I don’t think this—”

  “Don’t be dumb,” Jessie said. “This will be a piece of cake. Trust me. Call Nancy.” Jessie picked up Kate’s fritter and waved it at the phone before she bit into it. “I’m telling you, call Nancy.”

  Kate thought for a moment, picked up the phone, and began to dial. She bit her lip while the phone rang, and then said brightly, “Nancy?”

  “Kate? At last,” Nancy said. “I’ve been calling and calling.”

  “You have?” Kate said. “My secretary didn’t—”

  “We didn’t have your business number. I’ve been calling you at home for the past two days. You have at least five messages on your machine. Don’t you ever go home?”

  “Well, lately only to sleep,” Kate said. “What’s wrong? Is Jake okay?”

  “No,” Nancy said. “You’re not answering your phone. He thinks you’re either dead or with another man, and he
’s not sure which he’d hate more. Will and I have been pushing the ‘other man’ theory.”

  “Why?” Kate said, confused.

  “Motivation,” Nancy said. “He’s miserable without you, but he won’t do anything about it, so we’re hoping jealousy will goose him into action. If he shows up at your front door screaming, ‘Where is he?’ you can thank us.”

  Kate started to laugh. “He misses me?” she said. “He really does?”

  “Well, he won’t admit it, but believe me, ‘misses you’ is an understatement. We’re thinking of having him committed. He even insulted Mrs. Dickerson. He’s really miserable. I think you’d better come back and save him.”

  “Well, actually, that’s what I called about,” Kate said. “Not saving Jake, but coming back. I’d like to—” she took a deep bream “—I’d like to buy into the bar. But not manage it,” she added hastily. “Not get in your way. I wouldn’t...”

  “Go ahead, get in my way,” Nancy said. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ve been going over that master plan you made. I like it. Move back here and we’ll do it.”

  “You’ve been going over the plan?” Kate said. “That’s wonderful.” Kate blinked her surprise at Jessie, who said, “I told you so,” around a mouthful of fritter. “That’s terrific,” Kate said. “I’m stunned. I guess great minds do think alike.”

  “It wasn’t actually my great mind at first,” Nancy said. “It was Jake’s.”

  “Jake’s?” Kate’s voice broke with surprise.

  “Yeah. He’s spent the past couple of weeks in here every night, explaining to me about how much better my life would be if you were here.” Nancy laughed. “I’ve seen transparent excuses before, but this one was practically invisible. He wants you back. Bad.”

  A couple of weeks. Jake had been thinking about this for a couple of weeks, leaving her in hell.... “Well, why isn’t he calling me, then?” Kate demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said. “I don’t explain Jake. Come down here and ask him. And bring money. Your half of this dump is not going to come cheap. We’re going to get you so invested in this place that you’re never going to leave again.”

  “I’m already that invested in that place,” Kate said. “But if I’ve been sitting up here miserable for six weeks while Jake’s been sitting down there miserable for six weeks just because he didn’t want to call and tell me he’d made a mistake, there’s going to be hell to pay.”