"Bill, are you okay?"
He nodded, but swallowed even harder, and out of compassion, Lydia stood up and walked over to the window to allow him a moment for whatever it was he was going through. Then she pointed outside and asked, "How long have they been on strike?" It was as if she had to know the exact time.
"A little more than a month, I believe."
Lydia nodded. "And how long have you been here?"
He started to answer her, but had to clear his throat several times. "A little over three months."
"Where were you before that?"
He slumped forward, making it nearly impossible to hear what he said, though it sounded like here, there, or nowhere.
Lydia said, "Pardon me?" But he shook his head helplessly. Then he covered his mouth with his hand, really taking on the appearance of someone about to puke, and Lydia gasped as he ran out gagging. "Jesus Christ!" She stared at the door, dumbfounded, and in came Jan.
"Is everything all right?"
Lydia shrugged. "Damned if I know. That was weird. Is there something wrong with him?"
"I don't know," Jan said. "I could check with personnel if you like. Or maybe when Mr. Reed comes in..."
Her expression absolutely baffled Lydia. She looked like a wind-up toy waiting to be cranked and set off in the right direction. "No, that won't be necessary."
Jan looked reprimanded. "Will there be anything else then?"
Lydia sighed. "Just a cup."
"Oh my! I'm so sorry! I forgot! I started typing a letter for Mr. Reed and I guess I forgot all about it."
"Is he here?"
Jan shook her head, and Lydia sat down, total exasperation apparent in her heavy sigh. "Do you know what we make here at Merchant, Jan?"
Jan's eyes widened. She hadn't a clue, which somehow didn't surprise Lydia. She was just about to enlighten her, saying, "Don't you think you should?" when in came her father, smiling and looking rather dapper in his tan three-piece suit.
Jan said, "Good morning," in a high voice as she scurried out past him, mumbling something about getting a cup and coming right back, and John walked over and kissed Lydia on the cheek.
"Well, dear?"
Lydia’s mouth dropped. "Well?!" She couldn't believe this. "That's fitting, Dad, real fitting. You let me come in here like a bat in sunshine and all you can say is 'Well?'"
John frowned, his face wrinkling more than usual. "Now, dear..."
"No, wait, save it," Lydia said. "Let me tell you about my day so far. First, the receptionist wanted to know if she could help me, only she wasn't exactly pleasant. Then I ran into this lazy bum at the elevator who shared a few company policies with me. Then I met up with the pork chop brigade in the conference room, which was an absolute blast." She took a breath. "And then there was Bill Shoop and God only knows what that was all about. And her!" She pointed over her shoulder. "She's mind boggling!"
"Dear, most of the people here are very nice."
"Oh really?" Lydia said. "Well, when I run into one, I'll let you know."
John sighed. What could he say? What was there to say? "Let's go into my office. We'll meet with Will in there."
Lydia grabbed her cigarettes, rambling on as she followed him. "I mean, I know we didn't talk shop yesterday. But what the hell? I don't know anyone! The least you could've done was warn me."
John sat down at his desk. "Will's due any minute," he said. "So let's wait until then and go over this together." He leaned back and smiled. "Relax, have a cup of coffee."
"I'd love to," Lydia said dramatically. "But I don't have a goddamned cup."
John shook his head and reached into his drawer for one just as Jan came in stammering. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was coming to get it, and the phone rang, and... Here, let me get your coffee for you."
Lydia took the cup from her father and clutched it lightly to her chest, daring Jan to reach for it. "That won't be necessary, just tell me where it's at."
"In accounting," Jan said, turning inside out. "It's down in accounting."
On the way, Lydia stopped for her purse and ducked into the ladies room. "Oh great! This couldn't have waited until tonight." She was sure she had a tampon in her purse somewhere and fished around for it, thanking God when she finally found it. Then it was off to accounting.
The room was empty, so she looked around and walked over to the window. The picketers were changing guard and if so inclined, she probably could have sensed some of their thoughts from here, the more prevalent ones at least. Maybe just for fun. But she didn't. She got her coffee and went back to her father's office. Reed had yet to arrive. Fresh and hot, the coffee made the wait seem almost worthwhile.
"So, how are you doing, Dad?" she asked.
"Fine. I slept a little better last night."
"Oh? Have you been having a problem sleeping?"
"A little."
Lydia glanced down at his desk. There wasn't one paper on it, not even a pen. "Aren't you staying?"
"No, I plan on leaving right after our meeting with Will."
Lydia nodded. "Who is this guy anyway?"
"He used to be with Pantamanian."
"So? How'd you get him?"
"Things started slipping around here. I guess I needed him."
He guesses, Lydia thought. It's contagious. "How did you find him?"
"I don't know, he sort of found me. It was fate, I guess."
Fate, he guesses. "Okay...so how did he find you?"
John glanced toward the window. There was somewhere else he'd rather be. "We lost our contract with Mago in January."
"You’re shittin’ me. How?”
John frowned. Such language.
"We've been running those parts for years," Lydia said. "How could we lose it? Anyone going against us would have to quote astronomical tooling and setup."
John nodded, with a shrug. "I can't figure it either." He drew a deep breath and sighed. "Anyway, Pantamanian was bidding on it also."
"And they got it?"
"No. Forrester did."
Lydia reached for a cigarette. "And?"
"And that' s how I got Will. He left Pantamanian and came to work for us."
"Wait a minute," Lydia said, raising her hands. "Let me get this straight. He lost the contract too, but somehow, by fate we guess, you two got together. What? To lick each other's wounds?"
John laughed. She did have a way of summing things up. "No, not exactly," he said, and he was just about to elaborate, when a tall, blonde-haired man leaned in the doorway.
"Morning, John."
"Will! Come on in! I'd like you to meet my daughter Lydia."
When the man entered, smiling, Lydia had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth from gaping at the sight of him. And when he reached for her hand, she thought he just might bow down to kiss the back of it. He was the picture of the perfect gentleman. "Miss Merchant," he said in the nicest of voices. "What a surprise."
A surprise? Lydia threw her father a puzzled look, one he dodged with an introduction. "Dear, this is Will Reed. He's been my right-hand man since he's been here."
Lydia nodded to acknowledge that, and Reed pointed to the chair next to her. "Mind if I sit?"
She shook her head, stealing a quick look that started with the meticulously groomed hair, down over the tailored navy blue suit, and when he crossed his legs, the argyle socks. She had to force herself to look away. Somehow the name Will Reed never conjured up this image.
"Are you on vacation?" he asked, smiling.
Lydia shook her head, amazed at the clarity in his eyes. They were even blue, like there was no other color. "No, I'm here to stay."
"So you've graduated then?"
Lydia nodded and turned to her father. "Dad, didn't you tell him?" His somber expression said no, he hadn't. So she turned back to Reed. "I'm here to put the company back on its feet," she said, and just so there was no misunderstanding, she added, "Starting today."
If Reed swallowed hard, she couldn't t
ell; the collar of his shirt was high, starched, and stylish. Nor could she detect whether or not he broke out in a sweat, if in fact he ever did. But his eyes said it all.
"You could've prepared me, John."
"You're right. I could have," John said. "But Lydia’s unprepared also. All she knows is that we're facing bankruptcy." He paused, wanting to word what he was about to say as tactfully as he could. "From here on in, Will, it's all up to her."
Reed nodded slowly, methodically, and turned to Lydia with a concerned look on his face. "Are you wanting me to stay on?"
Lydia studied his eyes. "Unless you have reasons of your own to leave?"
"No. I'm dedicated to getting this company back on its feet also."
Lydia smiled faintly, somewhat relieved. He was the only one that seemed normal so far. And to make it even better, her second glance had discovered an imperfection; his eyebrows were too thick. “Which brings us to the heart of the matter," she said. "Are we teetering on the brink or flat on our ass?"
"Neither," Reed said.
Although he didn't sound totally convinced himself, Lydia let it go at that for the time being. "Well, I'll form my own opinion after I go over the books." She glanced at her watch. "That’s whenever our Dan Morris gets in."
Reed started to say something in Dan Morris's defense, but hesitated, frowning as he watched her light a cigarette. His expression hardly went unnoticed; Lydia just chose to ignore it, reaching for an ashtray, and damned if her father wasn't frowning too.
She took another drag. "I'm going to have the conference room redone today. I tried setting it up earlier with Bill Shoop, but we never got quite that far."
Reed looked puzzled. "The conference room? What for?"
"It's going to be my office," Lydia said nonchalantly.
"Why?" Reed asked, turning red. "Why the conference room?"
"Why?" Lydia’s face flushed also, with disappointment, so much for his seeming normal. "Because I want to see the shop, I want to see the people. I want to see what's going on out there."
"What exactly are you hoping to find?"
Lydia stood up and walked over to the window, drawing hard on her cigarette as she stared out. "I don't know. I just know that's where I want to be."
Reed turned to John for help. But John just shook his head, reemphasizing what he'd said earlier about it being up to her now. "But I gave that room to the foremen to boost their morale, John, you know that."
"I'm sorry."
Reed turned to Lydia. She had her back to him, seemingly oblivious to what he was saying, to the situation. "We couldn't give them raises, so..."
He was right, she wasn't listening. She was watching the picketers. Watching and wondering. "How long have they been on strike?" she asked. It seemed important.
"Six weeks," Reed said, getting up and walking toward her. "They're the prime example of what can happen when workers get tired of the head office stepping on them. And with our people driving past them every day, I just don't think taking anything away at this time is wise.”
Lydia looked up at him. "I'm sorry, but I don't see it that way. And neither should you. They're two entirely different situations."
"But..."
Lydia shook her head. "There are no buts. It's where I'm going to be." End of subject. She started across the room. "What time are you leaving, Dad?"
"Right now," John said, reaching for his briefcase with a trembling hand. "I have to be somewhere."
Lydia nodded. She knew exactly where he was headed and wished she could have the gates locked. "Then I'll call you later."
John kissed her on the cheek, and she turned to Reed. "What's your schedule today?"
He glanced at his watch as if it were written there. "I'll be here all day, if that's what you're asking."
"Exactly," Lydia said. "I want to get together later. I've got to go to accounting, and then I want to tour the shop. But right now, I've got to find Bill Shoop." She paused and laughed. "Tell me, what do you know about him?"
Reed shook his head. "Not much. Why?"
"I don't know. I had him come up to see me earlier and it was the damnedest thing. He behaved so strangely."
Reed defended him. "He's only been here a short time, but he does a good job. I've never had any problem with him."
"Oh yeah?" Lydia said. "Well, I think I made him throw up."
Reed just nodded; it was all he could do. Because even though he was standing there looking at one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, he knew exactly how Bill must have felt, firsthand.
Chapter Three
Passing Jan at her desk, Lydia called over her shoulder. "I'm on my way to accounting, but I'm going down to maintenance first. If you need me, page me."
"Over the intercom?"
Lydia stopped. "Yes, why? Isn't it working?"
"I don’t know, I guess it does. No one ever uses it though."
Lydia shook her head in amazement. "Okay, then how do you get a hold of someone out in the shop, Jan?"
"Well, if it's an emergency... Well, actually we've never had one, not since I've been here. But if we did, I assume we’d just go down and get..."
Lydia raised her hands, insisting, "Please, if you need me, page me." Then she turned and walked on.
"I'll have to call the switchboard operator to see if it still works," Jan said.
Lydia, almost to the stairs, waved. "Don't bother, I'll ask Bill Shoop to check it out." When she stopped to light a cigarette, another voice called after her, a man's.
Turning, she again had to consciously keep her first reaction from showing on her face, only this time for an entirely different reason. Approaching her was a large man wearing a bright red plaid jacket, bow tie, white pants, and white patent leather shoes with the ancient tap of cleats.
"By golly, you must be little Lydia Merchant," he said, reaching for her hand. "Dan! Dan Morris!"
Such exuberance. Lydia shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"My pleasure too!" he said, flashing an array of yellow teeth with two gold caps where, if he were a vampire, his fangs would be. "My pleasure!"
Lydia tried to pull her hand free, but he wouldn't let go. "I heard you were here and I wanted to come extend you a welcome and go over a few things with you."
Lydia nodded, looking around for an ashtray. When she motioned to one, he released her and stepped back, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Lydia took a final drag off her cigarette before snuffing it out and found herself holding her hands close to her sides as she walked back so he wouldn't reach for them again.
"So, if you have a few minutes," he said.
"Well, actually I was going in the opposite direction. But I'll be down to see you shortly."
He nodded and turned, saying, "I'll be waiting for you, darlin'." From under eight or nine draped hairs, a bald spot shone obtrusively from the back of his head as he clanged and tapped away.
Why anyone would dress that way on purpose absolutely amazed Lydia, and halfway down the second flight of stairs, she ran into another gem, Carlson the Janitor. From experience, she knew to steer clear. Luckily he was sitting down with his back to her, taking a break. Before he could rise to his feet, to pinch, grab, or "playfully" tickle her, she hugged the wall, hurried by, and continued on her way. At the door to secondary assembly, she looked in at the workers, their eyes glued to their work, and thought nostalgically about all the men and women she used to know here, their places now taken by strangers. She walked on to maintenance.
Bill Shoop wasn't there, but a young man with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, appearing to be in his late teens, told her he was out by the compressors. She thanked him, turning to leave, and the young man threw his hand up in a defiant gesture. She caught it out of the corner of her eye, but just as she turned to ask him what his problem was, Bill came in, grease-covered and carrying a machine part.
Seeing her there made him nervous, enough so that he barked uncharacteristically
at “Ponytail,” in telling him to go clean up the mess he'd left. Lydia, assuming the young man had an attitude problem with everyone, shrugged off her concern and waited for him to leave.
"The reason I wanted to see you this morning..."
Bill held his hand up. "I'm really sorry about that. I just, oh, something about going up to the big office."
Lydia made light of the incident. "We all have our quirks, don't worry about it."
Bill attempted a smile and walked around to the other side of the workbench, bending down to examine the machine part while he rotated something inside of it. Lydia leaned down also, as if she knew what he was looking for, and Bill glanced at her, smiling genuinely this time.
"So, what can I do for you?"
"Oh yeah," Lydia said, straightening up. "I'd like to have the old conference room turned into an office. I don't need much. In fact, I really don't even want a desk." It sounded as if she were planning this as she went along. "Just a table and some chairs, you know."
Bill nodded, but kept his eyes on the part. "I heard all about the eviction."
Lydia considered his tone of voice, which was a little whimsical. "Was this before or after you came to see me?"
"Before. Just before."
Lydia laughed. It wasn't hard to imagine the other side's version of that story. "Well anyway, I'm going to need a phone too. Oh, and check out the paging system. I understand it hasn't been used in a while."
Bill nodded, smiling, and she went back upstairs to find Dan Morris with ledgers and statements spread out all over his desk. "Sit yourself down right here, little lady," he said, grinning. "I've got everything ready for you."
Less than two minutes later, Lydia was on her feet. "First of all, you're going too damned fast. Second, I've run out of cigarettes." She pried one of the folders out from under his elbow. "So hang on, and I'll be right back."
Dan's eyes darted to the folder. "Why don't you leave that here and that way I can uh...go over it with you, and uh...explain it to you."
Lydia shook her head. She wanted to go over it without having him in her ear, but glanced back from the door to assure him she'd only be a few minutes. She could have sworn he was breaking out in a sweat. He had that look. She glanced at the two payroll clerks. They seemed to be on the brink as well.
Call Me Lydia Page 3