Dakota Blues Box Set

by Lynne M Spreen

“She was,” he said. “Unfortunately, she passed last August. We intended to move back to California, but I found this opportunity, talked it over with Yolanda, and we agreed to stay.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about her mother. How is Yolie?”

  “Great, busy with the kids, but we’re doing well.”

  “Do you ever miss Newport?”

  “I miss looking out the window and watching the sun set into the ocean, right from our office,” he said. “But there’s a lot I don’t miss. The crowding. The lack of civility, at times. It’s different here. Very southern. What about you?”

  “When I moved to California, I was so young. I fell in love with it, and it felt like home. I miss it.”

  “So, why Florida?”

  “It’s temporary.”

  “Until what?”

  She shrugged. “Business, family, life. I can’t say for sure.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, remembering. Then she folded her napkin next to her plate. “About your plans.”

  “Okay, long term, we want to open a string of clinics, first in Georgia, then expanding to other states.”

  Karen took notes as Ben elaborated. By the time he wrapped up, she had several pages’ worth. He flagged down the waiter and ordered coffee. “Now that you know my needs, Ms. Grace, tell me how you plan to meet them.”

  “Show-off.”

  “Uh-huh. Feels good.”

  “Well, Mr. Washington, as it turns out, I have already conducted this kind of work for several large firms, so there will be no learning curve.” Karen hoped he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice. She wanted this contract so badly her pulse had accelerated. To get a toehold in Savannah, with all of Ben’s contacts, would set her up for life. She described for him her capabilities, and when she finished, he nodded.

  “That’s what I want to hear,” he said. “And what about timelines? How long will it take and when can you start?”

  “A couple of days here in Savannah to get everything rolling. Then I’ll head back to my home office and continue, updating you periodically until we’ve met your objectives. I estimate three to four weeks for phase one.” She set her pen down. Her hand was shaking, and she took a deep breath. Their association would create a lot of work, but come hell or high water, she would deliver.

  He laughed, a deeply resonant sound. “Same old Karen. Organized to the max and ahead of the curve.”

  “Of course.” Her bluff was working. He hadn’t noticed how anxious she’d become.

  “I asked about your Florida office. Why not move to Savannah? You could be like our HR office down the hall, except you’d be independent. You’d have other clients besides us, and you’d be busier than you could ever imagine.”

  Karen smiled, but her chair seemed to be tilting, and she had to grip the table to steady herself.

  “Karen?” Ben was staring at her, frowning with concern.

  “I just need to—I’ll be right back.” She hurried across the restaurant to the ladies’ room. Inside, she sank into an overstuffed chair in the lounge. Across the room, she saw herself in the full-length mirror, dripping with sweat and as green as the salad that was churning in her gut. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  She leaned back, resting her head against the wall and breathing slowly. She hadn’t had a panic attack in years, not since her first promotion to C-level at Global had her reeling from anxiety and fear of failure. She had gotten through that, and she would get through this.

  In a few minutes, her pulse slowed, and she rose and crossed the room to the sinks, regaining her strength with every step. Cloth towels sat in a woven basket on the counter, and she soaked one in cold water and held it to her face and throat.

  With Ben’s offer, she was truly at a crossroads. She could live in a trailer and work part time, or she could build a brick-and-mortar business. When he had suggested the latter, she saw herself being responsible for dozens of people and relying on and trusting them. She couldn’t. Not now, and maybe never. Not after the implosion at Newport and the end of her corporate career. She could never again see herself with that kind of responsibility.

  Yet Karen was driven to build something that would sustain her into old age. Without help, that was unlikely.

  So what was the answer? Killing herself to maintain the facade with her clients, pretending she was more than one woman working out of an RV? Dying under an oversized workload?

  She knew what she had to do, if only it were possible.

  When she sat back down at the table, Ben was concerned. “What happened? All of a sudden, you looked ill.”

  “Fine. Good. Just getting over a bug,” Karen said. “But there’s something I’d like to ask your opinion about.”

  In a gesture she remembered from Newport, Ben leaned forward, all concentration, ready to help. “Tell me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about developing an app. A piece of software that’ll help me find viable candidates—while I sleep. It’s something I’ve been kicking around for a while. I think it has huge potential, but I need a second opinion.” She pulled out her notebook and began to sketch a diagram. “A few years ago, a major department store figured out a way to pick up on which of its customers were pregnant. They even figured out how to predict the approximate due dates. All from mining the purchase data.”

  Ben nodded. “I’ve seen that kind of thing. For my daughter’s eleventh birthday, I did a search for sparkly tap shoes. Now I see the damned things everywhere.”

  “That’s a little different. In my case, it’s more about sifting through the information people volunteer in public forums. Like social media.” She drew a few more boxes connected by arrows. “My idea is to create something similar that would help me find employees. Say there’s a public forum where people are talking about the health-care industry. If you had the right algorithms, you could find potential candidates and make them aware of job openings.”

  “You’d be overwhelmed by data,” he said.

  “So I’d figure out a way to filter it. But my software could identify a person, and I could follow up with an automated invitation. All I’d have to do is front-load the particulars for each recruitment and then sit back and wait for the résumés to roll in.”

  “Only one problem,” said Ben. “If it works, you’d be out of a job.”

  “No. The app would deliver the data to a human, who would then use it as necessary. I could use it when I recruit for smaller companies, for example, and I could license the rights to larger corporations to use in-house. Either way, I win.”

  “Sounds good, but aren’t you afraid of annoying people? What about privacy?”

  “It would only be able to find data that’s volunteered on public sites. Then I would reach out with a courteous and respectful inquiry, as I do now, but it would be so much easier to find prospects. See?”

  “Damn, Karen.”

  She sat back, happy that she’d finally had a chance to tell somebody about it, someone with the expertise to appreciate it. She felt happy to be part of the commercial world, producing at the top of her game again, at least in theory.

  “So what’s next? What’s the next step?”

  “That’s a little bit of a challenge,” said Karen. “I need to find a programmer I can trust, get it built, do beta testing, and then launch it. I could put it together in a few months, if that were all I did all day. But, knock on wood, I’m pretty busy.”

  “And I just loaded a bunch of new work on you.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t do it all.” He drummed the table with his pen. “There’s a business incubator in Savannah. I know about it because I’m friends with some of the guys. They look for start-ups—businesses, usually, but sometimes it’s products they can either buy the rights to or sell for a cut. I wonder if they’d be interested.”

  “You mean they would fund me while I take the time to develop it?”

  “They might, if you coul
d talk them into it. Do you have a number? How much you’d need?”

  Karen swallowed. “Fifty thousand should get me started.”

  “Let me see.” Ben got up from the table and walked away, his phone at his ear. She watched him meander back and forth, talking. The longer it took, the more she doubted, but when he returned, he was smiling. “You have an appointment Wednesday morning.”

  Thirty-six hours from now. Karen blanched. At this point, all she had was her squiggles. To impress the panel, she’d need a complete deck of slides, charts, and handouts. “Most of my materials are at my office. I’m not sure I can pitch them on such short notice.”

  “You just pitched me, and I’m convinced.”

  “Day after tomorrow,” Karen said.

  Ben nodded. “New Year’s Eve. Matter of fact, we’re throwing a party at the St. Regis. Some of the investors will be there. It’d be a great opportunity for you to mingle.”

  Ben was right. This would be a chance to rub elbows with Savannah’s movers and shakers. Besides, it would be fun to go to a party on New Year’s Eve in Savannah. She remembered passing a fancy little dress shop on her way to the meeting this morning.

  “You took a chance on me. Now let me return the favor.” After he paid for their lunches, they went back downstairs. Ben found her a spare desk in a vacant office, and she began preliminary work on his first project. At seven, she said goodnight to the few remaining workers and drove back to the hotel, grabbing a hamburger on the way. For the next few hours, she worked on the software pitch until her brain began to fog and her eyes became bleary.

  With such short notice, her presentation would be brief, but still, she felt it was compelling. Although she lacked technical knowledge—how did a person develop an app, anyway?—her expertise in human resources would carry the day. If the investors agreed to support her, she could slack off on new business long enough to develop the software. Then she could become financially successful without hiring a bunch of employees or building massive infrastructure.

  She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and slipped into her pajamas. Tomorrow, Tuesday, she would work all day at the office with Ben’s staff, getting the recruitment and internal processes started. In the evening, she would come back here and finalize her pitch. Wednesday morning would be blast-off time. She’d knock them dead and win funding. Celebrate New Year’s at the St. Regis and then return to Key Largo to produce the software. In ninety days, she’d have an app, a fat paycheck, future Savannah business contacts, and the very real possibility of lifetime income...if she did everything right.

  Slipping into bed, she wondered how she would ever get to sleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, Karen dressed in her Superwoman outfit—the St. John’s skirt, jacket, and heels—and walked out the door carrying her Gucci briefcase, a relic from her past.

  Downtown at the Sherman Trust Building, she rode up to the eleventh floor and followed the receptionist, their high heels clacking in tandem on the cold marble. The woman left her at the doorway to a dark-paneled boardroom. The committee was there already, deep in discussion at the far end of the room. Ben greeted her and made the introductions. Six of them looked to be barely out of college. The two older people were Ted Natchez, a media mogul with silver hair and mustache, and Diane Florentine, a sharp-eyed blonde in her early sixties. Karen knew about Natchez, having seen his name on the annual list of top businessmen in America, worth almost a billion dollars. The knowledge made her very nervous as she greeted the investors. Operating on two levels, she saw herself making the appropriate facial gestures, her posture erect, and her handshake firm. On another level, she was quaking like a burglar about to get caught.

  Ben led her to the front of the room where she would make her pitch. He’d provided a tripod for her one small display, a graphic portraying her app.

  “This product is the answer to a prayer,” she said. “Specifically, how to get more accomplished in less time. There’s a story behind it.” She began by describing a consultant, working hard to grow her business. She then told of the stressed-out executive of a large company, going through a complex process to find qualified employees. “Both those profiles are based on me. I’m constantly frustrated by the fact that so much of what I do is simple search. Why not automate it?” The investors rewarded her with slight nods. Karen continued with an overview of the software and its usefulness.

  As she glossed over the technicalities, one of the younger men, Trevor, interrupted again and again to ask for details, details she didn’t have due to the short notice. What about user engagement and stable revenue? What if she were tagged as a security threat under the new Atlantic protocols? How would she mechanize the validation of ROI?

  His skepticism chipped away at her confidence, and it showed. After a few more questions that Karen struggled to answer, he clicked his pen closed and laid it on the desk. “It won’t work for my business.”

  “Which is what?” Karen asked.

  “We’re developing a prototype for home-based water generation. My company’s just getting started, too, and I need something that’s further along. So I’m out.”

  “I understand. Thank you.” Karen hoped her smile was convincing, although her heart was pounding so hard her upper body shook. “However, this idea is sound. In fact, it’s crucial. I know this from my own background.”

  A young woman with thick glasses said, “I don’t see how you can bring this to market without knowing more about it.”

  “I have several experts who’ve done this before,” Karen said, “and I’ll be relying on them.”

  “But how are you going to find enough public data to feed the machine?” said a third. “Most of that is private.”

  “Hard to imagine it working,” said the girl with the glasses.

  “Again, my experts would be capable—” Karen began, but Ted interrupted.

  “Honey, the kids have a point,” he said. “You can’t expect us to front you a boatload of cash for putting together something that’s just smoke and mirrors. That’s not how you start a business.”

  “You did,” she said.

  “Well, that was me.” Ted smiled. “Balls, young lady. That’s what it takes. Let me tell ya a little story. When I was barely outta grad school, I went in and told the head of...”

  Karen saw Diane, the older woman, pull a nail file out of her purse. The rest of the kids began thumbing away at their cell phones. She was stuck, like some altar boy being lectured by the parish priest. Ted rambled on about his lifetime in media, starting with service in army PR and working up to time served at the FCC in Washington. Twenty minutes later, as he began to wind down, Diane put away her nail file and the kids looked up from their phones. “So, bottom line,” said Ted, “I think you oughta talk about how this sucker’s going to get built.”

  “That’s a waste of time, since she doesn’t know anything about coding or programming.” Diane turned to Karen. “Do you even know if there’s a market for this product?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Is that from your gut or based on research?”

  “My own judgment and thirty years of HR experience.”

  Diane sighed, Ted smiled, and the young people frowned. Karen felt like an idiot. She’d known they’d be a tough sell, but she’d hoped to at least whet their appetites.

  Ted stood. “I guess that’s it, darlin’.”

  She had barely slept last night, done all this work, all this thinking and planning, and now they were dismissing her? It was unacceptable. “No.”

  “Pardon?” said Diane.

  “I don’t want you to miss out. If you cut me off without any more discussion, this opportunity will go elsewhere and you’ll hate yourself. And you know what?” Karen’s eyes bored into Ted’s. “I’ll hate myself, too, because my new friends in Savannah will see me drive around town in my Lamborghini, and I’ll feel bad that you didn’t get a slice of the pie.”

  Diane burst out laughin
g. “I’ll give you that.”

  “Now maybe it’s true,” Karen continued, “that my answers fell a little short, but with about ten minutes to prepare, I think I did pretty well. However, I’d like a chance to answer your questions. I can promise you’ll have them by this afternoon. Surely you’d wait that long.”

  Ted was grinning at her. “Better idea, come to the party tonight and finish your pitch there. See how I feel then.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  As the investors filed out, Trevor came over and shook Karen’s hand. “Sorry if I was hard on you. I don’t like to risk my money unnecessarily.”

  “I understand.” While the room emptied, she gathered her materials and snapped her briefcase shut.

  “That was gutsy.” Ben came over and sat on the edge of a table.

  “I choked,” she said.

  “You may have pulled out a win, though. I’m proud of you.”

  “Tables turned, huh?”

  “Yeah, boss.”

  Returning to the office, she had a full afternoon ahead, speaking with employees about their work, but she closed her door and fell into the chair behind her desk, a little weak from challenging the investors. What a departure from her career at Global. There, she’d painted within the lines. Now, the stakes were higher. She’d taken a shot and rescued the pitch.

  A smile played at the corners of her mouth. Way to go, Karen, she thought.

  Her intercom buzzed. She opened her door to greet the first of the afternoon’s appointments, but her mind was on the app. When the programmers began to show up, though, she paid more attention, asking detailed questions.

  “Do what?” The sweaty, pale boy in front of her stopped picking at his ear.

  “You said you ‘scrape API.’ Tell me more about that.”

  “Uh, okay. So, you know how every website has an API code, and most of ’em aren’t encrypted private. So what you can do then...” Karen ran forty minutes over, learning all about app development.

  “Is this gonna help me get promoted?” the kid asked.

  “I’ll definitely talk to Ben about it. Thanks for your help.”