by Claire Adams
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good purchase, and one I would’ve approved, but having a set of eyes to red team a purchase helps to cut back on spending, which your father did a great deal of,” he said.
“Red team it?” I asked.
“It’s a newsroom term. It’s when a research team for a big story is split in half. One team investigates the story and pieces it together, then that team presents it to the red team. The red team knows nothing of the story, and they try to poke holes in it. It helps lend credibility before the story goes on air,” he said.
“Ah.”
“It takes after the term red blood cells,” he said.
“Gotcha.”
“Anyway, bring that along. We can try it out if she wants to, but all purchases, no matter how small, need an acquisition form I can either approve or deny,” he said.
“Sure.”
“Would you like to run the meeting today?” he asked.
“Actually, yes. I would. There was a format my father used that I think will help us, especially if she’s interested in all the charities my father donated to.”
“That’s what I was thinking. The meeting starts in 30. You want to ride with me or follow in your car?” he asked.
“I’ll follow. I’m going to run and get myself a late breakfast before I get back. And don't worry, I’ll use my money to get it,” I said.
“Stella, it’s my job to monitor expenses.”
“I know, I know. Come on, let’s get to this meeting,” I said
The client wanted to meet with us in a small coffee shop, which was perfect because I would need more of it. Christian and I sat in a couple of chairs, leaving the couch open for her, and she greeted us with a smile the moment she came in. We stood up and did our introductions before she went to go get us some coffee, and I couldn’t help but notice that she had a massive file with her.
“You think that’s all inventory?” I asked.
“Only one way to find out. You’re up, Stella,” he said.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” the doctor said as she sat down. “I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”
“He was a good man, but his company is in good hands,” I said, smiling.
“Please tell me you’re going to keep donating to all those wonderful charities,” she said. “I absolutely love that about Harte to Heart.”
“We most certainly intend to,” Christian said.
“I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” I said. “I’m Stella Harte.”
“Angela Laszlo, pleased to meet you,” she said. “So, I have all the files here that Mr. Gunn requested. How do we begin?”
“Well, let me take a look at your files, and then I can give you some background information on the company,” I said.
“Wonderful,” she said, smiling.
I tried to contain my excitement at the sheer amount of orders this woman would give us. She really was beginning this from scratch, and I looked back up at her and smiled with delight.
“Well, Dr. Laszlo—”
“Oh, please. Call me Angela,” she said.
“Angela,” I said, “my father built this company from just an idea. See, he was an incredibly smart man. Probably too smart for his own good, you know? He had this weird thing about cats, though. Really wasn’t sure what that was about. Anyway, he went to school for English Literature, and he read this story, right? And it just sparked something inside of him, you know? It made him think about his life.”
“Uh huh?” Angela asked.
“You know, and he just sort of took off with this idea. He wanted to help people because of that story, and his heart was so big and kind.”
I had to swallow back my tears, so I looked down at the files in my hand. For some reason, I couldn’t gather my thoughts. I was painfully aware of how Angela was looking at me, and I could feel Christian’s stare on the side of my face, and all I wanted to do was run and jump into a dark hole.
And never come out.
“What story did he read?” Angela asked.
“I can’t remember it right now,” I said. “But, it did inspire him to start the company.”
“Well, that’s good, right?” she asked. “That story’s responsible for you being here, then.”
“It’s the story that started the business,” Christian began. “But, the story isn’t what keeps us moving. It’s doctors like you who do. We understand that you are motivated to help others. The Hippocratic Oath tells us that. But, many medical supply companies aren’t in it to help others. They are in it to make money and nothing else.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ve had so many people gouge me over the years,” Angela said.
“And it’s wrong. Here is what we do with our charities: at the end of every year, we calculate the company’s net revenue. Then, we simply donate 25 percent of that total sum to the different charities that are near and dear to the company. It’s simple and precise, and exactly what my stepfather wanted. He wanted to find a way to celebrate everything we did for the community while giving back to it in the process. That was the very easy mathematical equation he came up with, and that’s why we are sticking to it!”
“Oh, that sounds generous. Do you have some sort of donation party? Where all the doctors you service come out and witness it or something?” Angela asked.
“Oh, no. One thing about my stepfather is he was private. He was never one to boast about his accomplishments or his gift-giving. He just wanted to do it. He was a good man in that regard,” he said.
“Sounds like it,” Angela said.
“Do you have any questions for us?” he asked.
“Just one,” Angela said. “How do we get started?”
“Well, that question is for my vice president. Stella?”
“You’ve done a fabulous job of outlining exactly what you need,” I said. “I can run through this paperwork pretty quickly, draw up some totals for my business partner to look at here, and then we can get you rolling. You can write a check, or you can use your company card on our mobile kiosk,” I said.
“Oh, a mobile kiosk! That makes things so much better. Would it be possible to get receipts with that?” she asked.
“Of course. I could take your email and email them to you straight from my phone,” I said.
“Wonderful. Then that’s what we’ll do,” she said, smiling.
It took me almost two hours to draw up the figures for Christian to look at, and the entire time he and Angela talked. She laughed at his jokes, and he smiled at her stories, and I felt a pang of jealousy grip my chest. I saw the way her hand lightly settled on his knee. I saw the way she was looking at him. I saw the way her eyes sparkled when Christian leaned back and crossed that long leg of his over his knee.
I told him to buy the suit because of how presidential and important it made him seem. But now, I wanted him back in that baggy suit that did him no fucking favors.
But of course, he tailored that, too.
And holy fuck, he had looked incredible in it Saturday night.
We double-checked the figures and ran them by Dr. Laszlo before she paid and got on her way. In this single transaction alone, we had garnered enough for our operating costs for the next three months, and I was ecstatic. She bought gloves and stethoscopes and ACE bandages. She bought BAND-AIDS and wheelchairs and crutches. She bought just about everything she would need to fill her practice to the brim, and I couldn’t have been happier. We had nailed our first client, and I couldn’t help but walk out of that coffee shop proud.
Even I had to admit that I didn’t realize exactly how much it took to really start a practice.
Well, Christian had nailed our first client.
“How are you so good at talking with people?” I asked.
“What?” he asked.
“In the meeting. I couldn’t gather my thoughts. I knew what I was trying to communicate, but it was like my lips didn’t get the message. How do you do it?” I asked.
“St
ella Harte is asking me for advice?” he asked. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Sorry I asked,” I said as I ripped my car door open.
“I’m kidding; I’m kidding. Look, do you really want to know?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“Like, truly really?” he asked.
“Cut the shit, Gunn. Yes,” I said.
“Then, I’ll help you understand tomorrow,” he said.
“What does that mean?” I asked
“You’ll see tomorrow. Right now, I have to meet with the contractors over at the store. They’re installing some plumbing for our offices. I’m hoping to put a little bathroom up there for us to use,” he said.
“So, you’ll tell me all your secrets tomorrow?” I asked.
“You got it,” he said as he popped the trunk of his car.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Giving Angela her welcome-to-the-family box,” he said.
And as I watched him walk over to her, I grumbled when her eyes lit up. Her hands brushed against Christian’s as she took the box from him, and I could see her eyes giving him one last run-over as he turned and walked away. Christian wasn’t a piece of meat to be ogled. He deserved better than that.
But, I could’ve sworn I saw him walking a little taller back to his car.
I dipped into mine before I could catch his eye and wondered what he had planned for tomorrow. Why did it have to wait? Why couldn’t he just tell me now? Surely it wasn’t a laundry list of things I had to do to work on this, right?
Either way, I was anxious for what he had planned tomorrow.
Chapter Nineteen
Christian
I was excited about teaching Stella something. In the entirety of us growing up, there had never been a moment where she had ever come to me for anything. She always knew everything, always understood everything, and always knew how to operate everything, even if she was wrong. She could do no wrong, she couldn’t get anything wrong, and if she was wrong, she argued until it seemed as if she was right.
So, I was reveling in the fact that she had asked me for help. She had not only recognized a lack in her abilities, but she had felt comfortable enough asking me for help.
I had to admit; there was a swell of pride that welled within my chest yesterday when she asked.
I walked into the office ready to go, and Stella was standing there with a cup of coffee. She held it out to me before she leaned her back against the hallway wall, and I grinned at her before I took a sip.
“So, what is this magical advice that had to be postponed until today?” she asked.
“All I can tell you now is that we aren’t starting out today in the office. Come on,” I said.
“Wait. Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see. Oh, and you’re riding with me today,” I said.
“Don’t I get a choice in that?” she asked.
“Do you want to be better at speaking with people or not?” I asked.
“Why can’t I know where we’re going?”
“Because if I tell you, you won’t come,” I said.
“Seriously, Christian. Where are we going?” she asked as she opened my door.
“Stella, shut up and get in the car,” I said.
We rode in silence as we wound through town. I could tell by the way Stella’s leg was jiggling she was painfully nervous for what was about to happen, and for a split second, I thought about telling her. A part of me hated to see her like this, anxious and unaware of what was going on, but that was part of getting her to understand.
Public speaking was never about how you talked to people. Public speaking was all about the nerves that came with how you thought people would interpret you. It’s a self-conscious mechanism bred underneath years of self-esteem issues, and for the first time, I was getting a glimpse of that part of Stella. She was nervous. Afraid. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She felt threatened, but she wasn’t angry about it.
She was pushing herself into a dark corner, hoping no one would look.
But, I was looking. I was watching her body shake in the fear that was blanketing her. And, so long as she asked me for help, I would help her.
Even though I knew she wasn’t going to enjoy what I had planned.
We pulled into the parking lot of a park, and I saw her confused gaze pan towards me. I parked the car and got out, and I was shocked when she followed my lead. She didn’t ask any other questions, and she didn’t wonder out loud why we were at a park.
She was, yet again, waiting for me to make the first move.
“Do you know why we’re here?” I asked.
“Not a fucking clue,” she said.
“You know all those times my mother and I would go to the park?” I asked.
“Yeah. Every Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon,” she said.
“We weren’t going to play,” he said.
“Then what were you doing?” I asked.
“She used to bring me to crowded parks just like this one and make me talk to people in the crowd,” I said.
“Wait. She what?”
“Yeah. She’d made me talk to both individual people and to large groups. Randomly. About anything,” I said.
“Aren’t mothers supposed to teach their children never to talk to strangers?” she asked.
“She didn’t just abandon me here,” I said, chuckling. “But, she never wanted me to be scared of talking to other people. She was scared her entire life, especially after what my biological father did to her. She didn’t want me growing up with that fear.”
I could feel Stella’s eyes on me as I talked, and for the first time since I was a child, I felt nervous about talking. I had her full attention, and I could see the empathy in her eyes, but there was still that twinge of fear.
She was putting together what I was going to ask her to do, and the tremor in her hands began to grow with every passing word I used.
“I’m not talking to a bunch of random people in a park, Christian,” she said.
“Stella, your fear of talking to others has nothing to do with your ability to talk,” I said. “It has to do with how you think people will perceive you.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. “I’m going to look and sound like an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. The only requirement is for you to introduce yourself and talk about something you enjoy,” I said.
“I’m not doing it.”
“Do you want to run this company with me to the best of your ability?”
“What?” she asked.
“Do you want to run this company with me the way I believe you can?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then go pick a random crowd of people, introduce yourself, and start in on a topic you’re passionate about,” I said.
“Christian.”
“Stella,” I said as I grabbed her face. “Stop thinking and start doing. Your brain is going to be the death of you if you don’t put it aside sometimes.”
“Fine,” she said.
I watched her walk up to a crowd of unassuming people, and I followed up behind them as she took her place. The tremble in her hands was visible even from where I was standing, and part of me wanted to reach out and save her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and take all the nervousness away. I wanted to tell her that I would do the talking from now on if she didn’t feel confident about it so I would never have to see her as self-conscious as she was right now.
But, she drew a deep breath before she began speaking, and with each passing word, a smile of pride grew on my face.
“Hey there, everyone. I’m uh, I’m Stella Harte.”
The people slowly simmered down their talking and turned their gazes toward her, and I could tell a few of them were sizing her up.
“Just stay out of your own head, Stella,” I murmured.
“When I was a little girl, there was this tree I used to read under
. It was a massive weeping willow tree whose branches hung down almost to the ground.”
Her eyes looked back at me, and I urged her forward. People were beginning to murmur, and some were turning back to their own conversations, and I nodded for her to continue before she cleared her throat.
“I would crawl underneath that tree with a book, and I would pretend it was my own fantasy world. See, when I was growing up, I wanted to be a princess. But, I wanted to be a princess that saved the prince. I wanted to wield my own sword and slay my own dragon, and I wanted to do it in this pretty little dress and my long, flowing hair.”
A few smiles began to bloom on the faces of the people she was talking to, and more people began to gather just to hear her talk.
“Even though I was reading books about princes slaying monsters for their princesses, I imagined the opposite. I’d let those weeping willow branches cover me from the fantastical reality painted within the book, and it would give me the silence I needed to reimagine this world someone had written for me. I told myself that, one day, I would write a book where the princess was slaying the dragons for the prince, and I’d be able to make the king and queen proud enough for them to give me their son’s hand in marriage.”
Her eyes flickered back to me, and I could tell she was more comfortable. The tremble in her hands had stopped, and the fear had fallen from her eyes. Replacing the fear was this breathless sort of confidence I couldn’t remove my stare from.
“Then, there was a moment. A moment where my stepbrother had fallen off his bike and tumbled down the hill. I could hear his laughter turn to screaming, and it ripped me from my book as I listened to him call out for his mom.”
I felt the smile drain from my face as the memory of that tumble came rumbling back to my mind.
“He had broken his leg, and he was crying out for help. And, I was too scared to go help him. There I was, sitting in my own little fantasy world, dreaming about helping someone, and I couldn’t peel myself away from my own fear to go be the princess I was always dreaming of being.”
I felt tears crest my eyes before I pulled my gaze to my feet.