Dakota Blues Box Set

by Lynne M Spreen

  They walked outside, where the group milled around, admiring the view.

  The house sat perched on a hill that sloped downward to the city, and beyond that, the ocean. On one end of the patio, a fountain gurgled and splashed down a cascade of rocks. On the other, oversized umbrellas shaded a seating area around a bluestone fire pit.

  Harold exclaimed, “My goodness, this is the way to live!”

  “Beautiful place,” said Lou.

  “Good to see we’re paying our senior staff well.” Reyna settled into a chair and flashed a blinding smile from behind designer sunglasses. Her black sleeveless dress showed off tanned, cut biceps.

  “It’s not all us. Karen has a rich husband.” Wes plopped onto a cushioned seat, cupping a handful of macadamia nuts.

  “Oh, will he be joining us?” Reyna crossed her legs. She wore stiletto mules in a snakeskin pattern.

  “He’s working,” said Karen. “He wanted to meet all of you, but couldn’t get away.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy them, and conversation turned to other topics. Although Karen longed to be sitting alone on her patio on this lovely afternoon with a glass of wine and a compelling novel, the party would build political capital. As Steve had said so many times about his business, “If you’re in the game, play to win.” Watching her guests attack the plates of appetizers, she knew she’d made the right decision.

  The only negative was the hostile vibe emanating from Reyna Castillo. It started early in the week at a management meeting. There, the younger woman opened an exhaustive line of questioning, interrogating Karen about systems and procedures she had initiated years ago. Surprised, Karen defended herself, but Reyna kept pushing. Every day, all week long, she scrutinized every detail. Karen was exhausted. She couldn’t wait for the corporate people to return to their home office and leave her and her staff alone.

  Reyna rattled the ice in her glass. Jean, checking for empties, swooped in and plucked it from her grasp.

  Karen followed her into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

  Jean handed her a swerving tray. “Fun group.”

  “Laugh a minute.”

  “When I was setting up the bar,” said Jean, “I found a new bottle of Bailey’s just sitting around.”

  “Hide it for me for later.” Karen leaned against the counter.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I’m just gathering myself.” She stared out at the patio. “I can’t believe I offered to do this.”

  “Here.” Jean held up a tray of pork dumplings. “Have a taste.”

  Karen inhaled the steamy fragrance. The aroma of fat and carbs made her senses perk up. She took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring the calories. “Oh my God, these are perfect.”

  “There’s more in the fridge all ready to go. Warm them at two-fifty for twelve minutes and slide them onto a plate.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  “And everything else is out there.” Jean untied her apron and folded it over the back of a chair. “You know I’d hang around, but I have another event this evening.”

  “No problem. Thanks for making me look good.”

  “You got it.” Jean let herself out while, from the kitchen, Karen observed her guests. Wes was kicked back, arms outstretched, no doubt telling one of his dumb stories. Reyna, who looked to be around thirty, tossed her head and raked her fingers through her hair. Lou stared openly. Wes stopped talking and looked down at his drink. The men appeared half-smitten, half-afraid of her.

  Karen remembered when she’d had that kind of look, that kind of power. Although still in what she considered her prime, the lines around her eyes and mouth were deepening. Other things were changing too. She couldn’t stand for hours in heels anymore without a backache, and she found it harder to hear in loud restaurants.

  On the other hand, after so many years in her profession, she had developed a sort of corporate stamina. She could put up with BS for hours and hours, if necessary. She could fake attentiveness while her mind went elsewhere, and she could do cocktail chatter with the best of them. Her networking prowess would kill a younger person.

  Peggy came inside, ready for a refill. “All our hard work goes down the drain the minute Wes opens his mouth.”

  “The heartbreak of nepotism,” Karen said. Wes’ uncle had founded the company.

  “Where’d you put my brownies?” asked Peggy. “I’m dying for some chocolate. And when can I leave?”

  “They’re on the counter to your left, and not for another hour or so. Otherwise it’ll look bad.”

  Peggy placed a hand at her chest. “I can tell ‘em I’m deeply fatigued. Play the old lady card.”

  “If I’m stuck, you’re stuck.” Karen filled two shot glasses with Bailey’s. “Here. This is to wash down the brownies. And then we’re going back out there.”

  “God, you’re such a dictator.”

  “And you’re such a crank.” They clinked glasses.

  After Peggy returned to the patio, Karen picked up the serving tray, squared her shoulders, and went outside. She extended the tray to Harold, who giggled nervously at something Lou said. Wes leaned toward Reyna, waving an unlit cigar in one hand and a bottle of Corona in the other. Off to the side, Peggy sipped her cocktail. The three accountants sat together on a patio sofa, each clasping a soft drink.

  Reyna spoke to Wes. “Nothing will bring costs down like a major reduction in staff.”

  Wes grinned as Karen sat across from them. “That’s what I was saying, but this one—” He pointed at her with his cigar. “—doesn’t agree.”

  “But you’re jumping the gun,” Karen said. “It’s too soon to panic.”

  “I disagree,” said Harold. “They say the recession could last ten years. Things could get very bad. People might start leaping out of windows.”

  “Only if they don’t have jobs.” Karen sighed, tired of the hand-wringing Harold. “We’ll see plenty of indicators before that happens.”

  Reyna removed her sunglasses. Artfully-drawn eyebrows rose over fierce, dark eyes. “Harold and Wes are right. It’s a good time to start making some moves. Wes mentioned he asked you to come up with a plan for staff reductions. Have you done so?”

  “Why are you intent on the Newport office?” asked Karen. “What about L.A.? Surely you’d find lower-hanging fruit there.”

  “We’re not talking about L.A.,” said Reyna. “We’re talking about Newport, and I truly believe layoffs are the only—”

  “Layoffs are expensive,” said Karen, cutting her off. “Force reduction carries its own costs. If you really want to save money, you should go for the cheapest option.”

  “Did you come up with something?” Lou reached for his drink. “This recession’s not going away.”

  Harold fluttered his hands in the air. “In fact, it’s getting much, much worse. I was just reading in Forbes—”

  “You’ll have to do something,” Lou said. “Get rid of people or whatever. You know my bottom line. We’ve already discussed it.”

  Reyna scowled. “There is no whatever. The Newport office is overstaffed.”

  “That’s not true,” said Karen. “You saw my numbers.”

  Reyna glanced at the three accountants. The lead man shrugged and nodded. “See? Our financial experts agree with me. We need to cut payroll.”

  Karen had wondered why the three accountants were at the party. Reyna must have invited them to back her up.

  Wes drained his beer and set it on the table with a decisive clunk. “Guess that’s it, then. We’ll have to get rid of some people. Karen, you lose.”

  “It’s not a matter of winning or losing,” said Reyna. “It’s just a change in corporate direction.”

  “I disagree.” Karen glanced over at Lou. He had always treated her as a respected colleague, and sought her opinion on matters affecting the southern California office. In fact, whenever there was a big issue facing the company, he included her.

  He nodded. “You have the floor.”


  Reyna sat up straighter.

  “Here’s the thing about downsizing.” Karen looked from one to the other. “It’s a quick solution, but it’s deeply damaging, and carries with it the potential for long-term consequences. The burden on remaining staff increases, in addition to a sense that management doesn’t care about them. Work suffers, and sometimes there are related losses.”

  “Like theft and sabotage?” Harold’s eyebrows rose.

  “Why would you even tolerate that?” asked Reyna.

  “I’m not saying I would, or that it’s a given, but when you start cutting people loose, the guys who are left feel overburdened. They’re good people, hard workers, but you wear them out. They get discouraged, they get sick—they even start having problems at home. Low morale spreads. It’s like starting a fire in a high wind. Pretty soon, you’ve burned the whole place down.”

  “That’s Karen. Our resident bleeding heart,” said Wes.

  “She knows what she’s talking about,” said Peggy, who’d been silent until now. “It’s an easy call to start kicking people out the door. You want to get rid of the mothers and the sick people and the young ‘uns who’re taking care of old folks? That’s fine, as long as you don’t look at their faces.”

  “Two of a kind,” said Wes.

  “The way I see it,” said Lou, “you have your healthy empathy, and then there’s coddling.”

  Reyna nodded. “Exactly. We’re all here to do a job. If it seems cruel at times, you have to reframe the way you look at it. That’s business.”

  “Easy for you to say,” said Peggy.

  “Why would you say that?” Reyna set her drink down. “You know nothing about me.”

  Peggy crunched on a piece of ice. “I don’t have to.”

  Karen jumped up. “Reyna, can I get you a refill? Anybody else?”

  “I’m done.” Reyna, her eyes lasering in on Peggy, handed Karen her glass.

  “I’m going to the head.” Peggy slid forward, creaked to her feet, and shuffled off.

  Karen attended to the rest of her guests, relieved for the moment. People could lock onto a particular argument. Unless you deflected them early, they’d become entrenched. This was something else Steve had taught her. As disheartening as it was to see her marriage crumble, she would always be grateful for his business advice. He had helped shape her into the professional person she became.

  She went in the house, slid a new batch of appetizers in the oven, and opened the refrigerator for a bowl of grapes. As she backed out and closed the door, Wes appeared.

  “Need some help?”

  She handed him the bowl. “You could take this outside.”

  He set it on the counter. “Tough bunch out there. How’re you holding up?”

  “Good. The party’s going well, don’t you think?”

  He picked a couple of grapes from the bunch and popped them in his mouth. “I mean you. With Steve gone.”

  “He’s not gone.” Karen unwrapped a tray of cheese.

  “You know that stuff’s fattening,” he said.

  “The calories don’t count if you eat it for work.”

  “Funny.” He looked around. “This big house must echo lately. What’s with all the boxes in the garage? Is somebody moving?”

  “Why were you snooping around in my garage?”

  “I guess I went out the wrong door. A person can get lost in this place.” Wes popped another grape. “But I have some news for you. I saw Steve at the grocery store this morning. He and this young chick were pushing a cart together.”

  Karen grabbed a paper towel and scrubbed a stain on the counter. She would not give Wes the satisfaction of seeing her face. “It’s not common knowledge, and I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself.”

  “I’m only concerned if it affects your work.” His brows knitted, and his mouth formed a straight line. He displayed such a poor imitation of a concerned boss, she almost laughed.

  “I’m completely focused.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Good. Glad to hear it.”

  “Get the grapes, would you?” She carried a tray of warm pastries out the door. In the distance, the ocean sparkled. A light breeze wafted up the chaparral-covered hillside. She took a deep breath, her lungs filling, her spine relaxing. She could not change what Steve had done, but she could distract herself for the next hour, until it was safe to process the information. And right now, she needed to attend to her guests.

  Karen loved her house, even when it was invaded by a hostile army. She felt proud of the way the party was turning out, and if nothing else came of today, at least she would have that satisfaction. In spite of Wes’ revelation.

  No sooner had she returned to her seat than Reyna began jabbering about cutting costs.

  When she paused for a breath, Karen said, “I heard the San Francisco office remodeling project is running into problems. Big cost overruns, is that right?”

  “Yeah, looks like you’re gonna need the money,” said Peggy. “How many people you want us to fire to pay for that?”

  Reyna narrowed her eyes at the old lady. “Twenty-five percent to start with, although we might have to go to fifty.”

  Karen held back a gasp. “We have to run the place, Lou.”

  “You’ll find a way,” he said.

  Peggy gave Karen a flat-line stare, as if to ask what she had expected.

  Just as they reached impasse, a low buzzing sound moved up the hill toward them. Karen craned her neck to determine the source. Abby, the teenager next door, was a science geek and home inventor. It wasn’t unusual to find the remains of a rocket on the patio. This sounded like a drone.

  Karen grimaced as the sound grew nearer. Not a good time for playthings. Her guests shifted in their seats, looking around.

  The buzz grew louder. Two rotary wings flashed in the sunlight as the object rose up and over the railing onto the patio. The size of a shoebox, the black and silver craft appeared menacing. The group flinched as it zoomed over their heads.

  Reyna ducked and cursed. Lou, flattened against the back of his chair, silently observed the homemade drone. It hovered in front of him, rose, and turned in the air, as if searching.

  Then it swooped down and buzzed toward Harold, who shrieked and covered his head. “Get it away from me.” He flailed at the aircraft, striking it with a fingertip. “Owwww!”

  The drone drifted to the ground, its rotor damaged.

  “Holy crap, you’re bleeding,” said Wes.

  Reyna tossed him a napkin. “You’re making a mess.”

  “Look out!” The copter buzzed to life, rising up again. The tail rotor didn’t work, so the body of the craft rotated around the main rotor, but then fell to earth like a half-dead insect. Karen threw a seat cushion over it and knelt on it. Plastic cracked as the drone buckled. When it fell silent, she cautiously looked underneath the cushion. The bird was finished.

  “I wonder if a competitor was spying on us,” said Reyna.

  “It’s Atlas Health. They must have known we were coming,” said Harold.

  Lou gave him the squinty-eye. “How the hell would they know that?”

  Harold glanced away. “I mean, I don’t really know. It’s just a guess.”

  Wes smirked.

  Lou picked it up. “Nah, it’s homemade. Hey look, it has a camera in the belly.”

  “I’m sorry everyone,” said Karen. “It’s the neighbor kid, and her latest school project.” She took the drone inside, put it in a trash bag, and stuffed it in the coat closet.

  Reyna followed her. “I’d like to talk. Away from everyone else.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Lou directed me to oversee the reduction in force, so although it’s unpleasant, it’s non-negotiable. You need to start Monday. I will stay a few extra days, to help.”

  Karen could only imagine what kind of help Castillo would offer. Firing squad? Poison gas? “No need,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable.”

  “Fine. But let me make
something clear to you. If I have to take over, I’ll start cutting at the top. And you’re in the upper one percent of payroll, right, Grace?”

  “Are we on a last-name basis now?” Karen asked.

  Castillo smiled. “Sorry. I keep forgetting. Karen.”

  Karen shut the closet door. “Try harder, Reyna.” She turned her back, went outside, and sat across from Lou. “Here’s my idea. I’ve been working on a software program that would better control inventory at our clinics and hospitals. It would save us a lot of money.”

  Wes tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth. “How much?”

  “Enough to solve your problems. Here’s a small example: protective gloves deteriorate over time, so we throw away a ton of them a year.”

  “Rubber gloves won’t save us,” said Reyna. “Forget the whiz-bang software idea. You need to cut staff.”

  “If I can save money, why do you care how I do it?” asked Karen. “Why are you so intent on throwing bodies out the window?”

  Reyna’s face turned red.

  Lou finished his drink. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s about money, period. Fix that, and we’re good.”

  “It’ll happen,” said Wes. “No problem. Right, Karen?”

  “Right.”

  “Good.” Lou rose to his feet. “I’ll expect your report by Wednesday.”

  After that, the party broke up.

  Peggy hung around to debrief. “You did a fine job, youngster. Too bad they’re such A-holes.”

  “Part of the job description.” Karen picked up a tray of wilted crudités and carried them to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, well.” Peggy fished her keys out of her purse. “They make me sick.”

  “I’m glad they’re gone.” Karen rubbed her forehead. “But tomorrow the real work begins.”

  “You’re sticking to your guns, then?”

  “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t. It’s just a job, kid. Take a break. Get a massage. Let the chips fall where they may.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” Peggy frowned at her. “Sometimes it’s best to call it a day and go home.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement. See you Monday.”