Karen blinked and swallowed. She tried to focus on the lighthearted young girl ahead of them on the sidewalk. The air was balmy and soft as only a California sunset can be. The streetlamps gleamed like opals against the soft gold and purple of dusk.
“You’ll get through this,” he said. “You really will. It takes time.”
Karen knew it was true. She had adapted to losing her dad some years ago, but this seemed different. Probably because now she was the only one left.
Abby opened her front door. A teacup Pekingese, crazed with happiness, bounded out and danced around their feet. Stepping carefully so as not to hurt the tiny dynamo, they looked up to see Lisa coming toward them.
“Thanks for letting us borrow your kid,” Karen said.
Lisa smiled, all perfect skin and elegant braids. “Oh, I think she owed you, after that little stunt with her science project.”
“Mom! You knew?”
“I know everything, honey.”
Scowling with embarrassment, Abby ran upstairs to put away the drone.
They watched her go. “She’s brilliant,” Karen said.
Lisa nodded. “She can be, when she doesn’t get out over her skis. Would you like to come and sit for a while?”
“Thanks, but we really can’t. We’re up against a deadline.”
“Some other time, then.”
When Abby came back downstairs, the three of them returned to the house for pizza and ice cream. Karen and Jeff went over the numbers while Abby went back to the computer. Every time she frowned, mumbled, or rubbed her eyes, Karen fretted. It was getting late, and it was a school night.
At seven minutes to ten, Abby whispered, “Hey, you guys. I think I got it.”
“Show us.” Karen and Jeff looked over her shoulder as Abby directed a test run. She angled the screen toward Karen. “Is that what you wanted?” The dollar amounts were solid black.
Karen cried out. She hugged Abby and high-fived Jeff. “You did it!”
“Well, it was pretty much there already.”
“No, it was you,” said Karen. “How can I thank you?”
“It’s just cool that maybe those parents won’t have to get fired,” Abby said.
“That is true. Thank you, honey. You just don’t know how much I appreciate this.” Karen felt her eyes stinging.
“It’s pretty late,” said Jeff. “Let’s walk you home.”
“Wait a sec.” Karen went in her bedroom, unlocked the safe, and pulled out five one-hundred dollar bills. She handed Abby the cash. “Payment for your first consulting job.”
Abby’s mouth fell open. She took the bills, held them in front of her, and gaped at them. “Are you sure? That’s a lot.”
“You earned it. Just don’t be flying any more spycraft over here.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise.”
After they saw Abby home, Karen walked Jeff to his car. He set his briefcase on the seat and yawned. “Long night.”
“I’ll be up for a while longer.” She told him her idea. “What do you think?”
Jeff sighed. “I think you’ll probably get fired. Are you prepared to risk that?”
“They wouldn’t do that. Lou needs me.”
“You do know they’ll own the rights? Once you give them the software, they’ll be able to sell licensing. You won’t earn a penny from it.”
“I know.” She leaned against his car, staring out at the blue-black sky.
“But think about it.”
“I have.”
“If you retain the rights—”
“If I retain the rights, and they fire everybody, and I get rich off my invention, everyone else is still screwed.”
“It’s not pretty, but sometimes that’s how it works.”
She pushed off from the car and straightened up. “Nope.”
“Okay, then. Let me know what happens.”
“I will.” Karen closed the door, locked herself in for the night, and went back to the dining room table. Her phone showed a voicemail from Lou that had arrived several hours ago.
“Just had a long conversation with Reyna,” the message said. “She’ll update you in the morning. Bottom line, I want to confirm she’ll be running Newport during the transition. She’s talking about a fifty percent reduction in staff. I’ll let you gals work it out. Call me when it’s over.”
“Bastard.” It was close to eleven. Lou was probably in bed. Too bad. That’s why he made the big bucks.
Hoping to wake him, she hit Redial.
Chapter 11
Reyna gave Wes the day off. She loathed the idea of watching him moon after her all day long. By the following morning, she’d be back in San Francisco, and Wes could reclaim his desk and his pretense of a job.
She leaned back in his chair, fighting the temptation to put her feet up. In a few hours, the terminations would begin. Last night, Lou had given her free rein. Now, all she needed to do was direct Karen Grace to start calling in employees.
Reyna frowned. She still didn’t have the list. She’d give Karen another hour, then force her to take action.
She swiveled the chair for a panorama view of the harbor. The yachts, especially. She wondered if Wes kept a pair of binocs in his desk.
KAREN ARRIVED AT HER office and clicked open her briefcase just as her intercom beeped.
“Reyna wants to see you,” said Barbara.
“Tell her I’m on a long call. Then, come in here. I need your help.”
A few minutes later, Barbara appeared. “She’s not too happy being put off.”
“Life doesn’t operate on her timetable.”
Karen handed a thick folder to Barbara, who opened it. Reading the first document, she gave a long, low whistle. “Is this legal?”
“They will be, once they’re signed.”
“You’re crazy,” said Barbara. “In the best possible way.”
“Let’s get busy.” Even though Lou said he’d give the employees another year, she didn’t trust him. He would be tempted to reap savings from the newly-proven software and terminate staff as well, all adding up to money in the bank for Global, and him personally. Thus, she had stayed up until the wee hours, writing and printing out ironclad contracts for three hundred employees. They’d be safe until next summer.
“They can be fired for cause,” said Karen. “But if they do their jobs right, they’re protected. I wouldn’t do it if Global couldn’t afford it, but as of last night, we can. We more than can.”
“And Lou’s okay with this?”
“Kind of.” Karen gave a rueful smile. “He gave me enough rope to hang myself, but I’ll be the only one at risk. Everybody else will be fine. Except I need a countersignature on these job offers. You’re a notary, but if you don’t want to sign, I’ll understand.”
“Like I give a rip,” said Barbara. “What’re they going to do, fire me?”
The two women sat shoulder to shoulder at Karen’s conference table, signing and countersigning each contract. Far below, fishing boats headed out to the ocean. The only sound in the room was that of paper shuffling and pens jotting.
“This reminds me of that movie, Thelma and Louise,” Barbara said. “I’m going to miss working with you.”
“Do you want a letter of recommendation?”
“Nope. I’ll never need one again. I’m on a downward spiral of the best kind.”
“Do you feel a little sad, though?”
“Oh, sure. Nobody wants to get old, but frankly, I’m as happy as when I was younger, working and raising my family. Those days were satisfying, but the pace was backbreaking. Now I get to relax. It’s kind of a nice tradeoff for the bad hip and wrinkles.”
“I see your point.”
“Anyway, I’m not quitting. I’m starting something new. I’ll work with Gail for a year, and then I’m moving to Sedona. My son has a rental there.”
“Lovely country. I’m jealous.”
“You’ll have to come visit.”
“I promise.” Wh
en they finished, Karen placed the folder on her desk and walked down the hall to Reyna’s office.
Reyna swiveled away from the window. “I was just coming to ask you for the termination list.”
Karen went over to the conference table and pulled out two chairs. “I spoke with Lou last night.”
“So did I.”
Karen sat down. “But I talked to him after you did. He gave me latitude to go ahead with the software.”
The younger woman made a face. “So what?”
“And he agreed no layoffs for the next twelve months.”
“You’re hallucinating.”
Karen pulled out her phone, pressed voicemail, and put it on speaker. Lou’s voice came on, validating her point.
“No fucking way.” Reyna reached over and grabbed the phone, checking the time stamp, seeming to deflate. She handed the phone back. “Fine. You win.”
“It’s not a matter of winning or losing. It’s just a change in corporate direction.”
“Very funny.” Reyna went to the desk and, with a sweep of her arm, slid all the paperwork into the trashcan. She stuck her laptop in her business bag, pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer, and headed for the door. “You have a nice life, Karen. You and Lou and all the—fine people—who work here.”
Karen stuck out her hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted.”
Reyna gripped her bags. “That’s the way it goes, but you know what? Soon as I get back up north, I’m quitting.”
“Reyna—”
She held up a hand. “I invested ten years in this place.”
“For me, it’s twice that and then some.”
Reyna grabbed the doorknob. “You think I’m heartless, but it wasn’t all about the company. I was trying to help my family.”
Karen nodded sadly. “Me, too.”
BARBARA, SEATED AT the conference table, had worked her way through the rest of the contracts. “Here’s your stack.”
Karen sat down. She felt bad for Reyna, but a smile crept across her face.
Barbara grinned back. “Things are looking up.”
“Well, until Lou finds out about these.” Karen tapped the pile of papers.
Barbara stood. “Call me when you get back from the Dakotas. I’ll take you to meet Gail, and we’ll have lunch.”
Karen nodded. She would finish up here, then go home and throw a few items into a suitcase. She wouldn’t need much. A funeral outfit, pajamas. Something to wear on the plane.
In the silent office, her pen rolled across the dotted line, leaving her signature on document after document. She made her mark on the lives of her employees and shaped her own future, whether it be success or failure, with Global.
She paused, staring out the window to the harbor below.
At some point in the next few days, as she stood at her mother’s grave, none of it would matter. She would pause in her struggle for survival, tote up her wins and grieve her losses, and take a brief respite to breathe.
And then she would fly back, deal with the aftermath of her career and marriage, and somehow, somehow, begin again.
She picked up her pen and resumed signing.
Dakota Blues
By
Lynne M. Spreen
Dakota Blues Chapter One
KAREN’S FINGERS HOVERED over the keyboard while she tried to remember the killer argument she’d been about to make, but the idea had faded. Not for the first time that day, she wished the hall outside her door hadn’t become the official gathering place for coworkers in search of gossip and idle chit chat.
It wasn’t like her to lose focus so easily. Karen couldn’t afford to slow down, not now when time seemed to have accelerated, racing up behind her so fast she could feel its hot breath. No, at her age, and in this economy, a person had to run hard and keep running. She turned back to the keyboard.
A rap on the doorjamb interrupted her again. “You busy?” Karen spun around to face the young man slouched in her doorway. Thank God he’d finally ditched the eyebrow ring but his slacks were still too baggy. “Hey, Ben. Sit.”
Ben slumped into a chair in front of Karen’s sprawling desk, his eyes bloodshot. It wasn’t due to partying. The kid practically slept in his office. “Wes told me to fire Ashley.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He rubbed his face.
“Unbelievable, even for him.” Karen began scribbling notes on a pad. Sometimes she hated human resources. Like most people, she chose the career thinking she could help others. Instead, every day seemed to bring new confrontations. “He knows her husband is sick, right?”
Ben nodded. “He said we can’t let that dictate business priorities. Quote unquote. I don’t know what to do.”
“Give me a minute. Let me think.” Karen turned to the window where, ten stories below, Newport Harbor bustled with all manner of maritime traffic. Fishing boats, their outriggers bent like spider legs, chugged past the breakwater out to sea. Just past the mouth of the channel, long-nosed speedboats flew across the waves, and a biplane slowly towed a banner. Something about beer.
She spun back around. “Is Wes in?”
“You think you can change his mind?”
“I can try.” Karen slipped into her suit jacket. She marched down Mahogany Row and stopped in Wes’s doorway. “Do you have a minute?”
Wes looked up, his eyes narrowing. “One.”
“There’s a problem.” Karen stood in front of his desk. “Ashley’s husband has pancreatic cancer.”
“Irrelevant. You know that.”
“I know that, and I’m still asking you not to fire her.”
He pushed a tablet across the desk at her. “So give me a name.”
“What?”
“Somebody else I can fire instead.” He sat back in his chair and chewed on a pen.
Karen hoped it bled into his mouth, but she forced her face into a semblance of thoughtful concentration. “I’ll need a few minutes to think.”
He tossed the pen on his desk. “I was just playing with you. She’s already gone. I saw her outside and gave her the good news.” Wes put his feet up. “So, when do you start your vacation?”
Karen folded her arms across her chest. “It’s a funeral, Wes.”
“Oh yeah? Who died?”
“My mother.” Her voice cracked.
“Sorry.”
Karen didn’t answer.
“And how long are you going to be gone?”
“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.” She turned to go.
“Hey.”
Karen stopped. “Yes?”
“Keep your phone on.”
AT THE OTHER END OF the Row, Karen pushed open a door to an office in which the air carried a hint of mothballs and the heavy perfume favored by older women when their noses stop working. Behind the desk, Peggy frowned at the spreadsheet on her computer screen. “I’m busy.”
“Who isn’t?”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Peggy’s grey suit hung on bony shoulders, and her hair was thinning in back from stress.
“Too bad.”
“All right, fine, but first, help me with this. The damn thing’s frozen.”
Karen crossed to the old woman’s desk. “Ashley and her husband need a continuance on their insurance.”
“What are we up to now? Twenty, thirty families?”
“Hide it in the account Wes uses for boat repairs. He’ll never know.”
Peggy turned to Karen with a heavy sigh. “Somebody will. Then we’ll get fired.”
“We should be so lucky.”
“Aren’t you brave? Talk to me again when you’re out of a job. Now, what does it mean when the little arrow goes like that?”
“First tell me we can cover Ashley.”
Peggy looked up at the ceiling, calculating in her head. Dark red lipstick crept into the deep wrinkles around her mouth. “Six months, like the others. Now will you help me?”
Karen bent over
Peggy’s shoulder, checked out the screen, and pressed a key. Immediately the document unlocked.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Peggy stabbed at a couple of keys. “Used to be we had people to do this. Now I have to do everything myself.”
“Why don’t you ask IT?”
“Screw them. They act like I’m retarded. I swear to Christ, next time I get a shot at early retirement, I’m taking it,” Peggy said. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“How’re you doing, kid?”
For one minute, Karen stopped running. She leaned into Peggy for a hug.
“We all have to go through it, sweetie.” Peggy broke the clinch. “I don’t mean to sound like our asshole boss, but don’t stay away too long. Don’t give them an excuse.”
“I won’t.”
THAT NIGHT, KAREN DROVE through the entrance of her gated community, exhausted. As the gate arm came down behind her, her shoulders relaxed. She turned into the driveway of the darkened house, parked in the four-car garage, and picked her way through piles of outgoing furniture and clothing. In the kitchen, she switched on a light, revealing a great-room combo that sprawled the length of the house. She never used it. Steve was the one who needed six thousand square feet of split-level, with four baths and five bedrooms and a pool and hot tub. He had lusted for a domestic showplace and paid cash for the house after one particularly good year.
Karen kicked off her heels and considered a Scotch, but it was almost midnight and she had a flight to catch in a few hours. Instead she navigated through the dark living room out to the patio where the land rolled away in a sprinkling of lights and ended at the Pacific Ocean. The view would be hers for...what? Another six months before Steve would want his return on investment? The coastal damp smelled of salt and settled on her bare arms, chilling her. She would have to think about moving, but not tonight.
She thought about Wes, and shivered. Leaving work for a couple days was a risk, but skipping the funeral would be asking too much, even of her. Even for Wes. Her work was done to the extent possible, and Stacey, her assistant, knew how to reach her. Everything was in place.
Dakota Blues Box Set Page 7