by Susan Wolfe
Silence filled the office after the door closed behind him. Georgia noted with alarm that Ken’s mouth had become a straight, thin line in a very white face.
“Ken?”
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he said stiffly. Georgia sat staring at the door after it closed behind him. Did he want her to wait?
When he returned a few minutes later, his mouth had resumed its normal shape, but his face was still white between his red hair and vermillion bow tie. “Forgive me, Georgia. I showed poor leadership just now.”
“By getting mad? Everybody gets mad.”
He sat on his conference table with a palm on either side. “By getting so mad I had to interrupt our conversation and walk around to control myself. I have a real Irish temper, and you’d have seen plenty of evidence of it if you’d been around when I was growing up. My brothers and I got into more fist fights than you can imagine. My mother was convinced she’d produced a bunch of hooligans.”
“Hey,” she grinned, “I’m a proud Irish Griffin myself, so I’ve seen temper. You still get in fights as an adult?”
“Once, with my older brother. My mother wouldn’t let either of us back in the house after that for six months. And I came close another time, in a deposition. The lawyer on the other side was irritating me, and I decided I was going to lunge across the table and take him out. I knew I’d be fired, and I was going to do it anyway.”
“But you didn’t?”
“The court reporter saw what was happening, and she just stood up and stopped the deposition. Then she sat on the table to block my view of the guy, and told me to leave the room. Gutsy lady. Saved my butt, and possibly my career. And ever since then, whenever I get really angry, I get up and walk away, and then keep walking until I’m over it. But I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No problem. Honestly.” She suppressed the urge to touch his arm.
He brushed his palm over the top of his short hair. “I tell you, this Futuresoft problem is a nasty one.” He walked over and opened his door. “Maggie, would you see if you can get Andrea and Quan in here right away?” He closed the door again. “And while she’s doing that, Georgia, I need to explain something you just heard.
“Our company got in some trouble a couple of years ago. Several of our employees were playing fast and loose with a competitor’s intellectual property, and we very nearly got ourselves indicted. We persuaded the U.S. Attorney to give us something called a Letter of Non-Prosecution, which requires me to report any suspected wrongdoing related to intellectual property for a period of three years.
“Our criminal defense lawyer agrees I’d have to report this Futuresoft deal. Roy’s living in a dream world if he thinks it wouldn’t blow up in our faces. Here are Andrea and Quan.”
Twenty minutes later the group looked glumly at one another around the table.
“Don’t you know Plowfield’s as happy as a pig in mud?” Andrea muttered, raking her short blond hair back from her face.
“Burt and Roy do seem to amplify each other’s folly,” Quan agreed rather primly.
“Mark Twain would call them the two finest quarter-wits who ever combined to make a half-wit,” Georgia contributed.
“Georgia?” Ken asked in surprise. “What did you say?”
Andrea was choking back a laugh.
“Sorry. I was just quoting Mark Twain. Probably inappropriate.”
“Definitely inappropriate. I can’t have anybody speak so disrespectfully about the leadership of this company, including Mark Twain.”
She felt her face redden. “I’m very sorry.” Now she’d distracted them, embarrassed herself, and disappointed Ken, just because she was trying to be clever.
Quan came to her rescue. “Perhaps we can quote Upton Sinclair instead. ‘It’s difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.’”
Ken laughed. “Now that I can agree with. Roy wants to buy this company so much that he’s refusing to think through the consequences.” He spread his palms on the table. “But I don’t have that luxury. I’d be committing an ethical violation to let this deal go through while I’m the general counsel. I’d have to resign.”
“If you explain that to the board, they’ll stop the deal,” Andrea said.
Ken nodded slowly, his mouth bunched to one side. “Probably. But how would that affect my relationship with Roy? And maybe the board as well? An executive who threatens to resign over an ethical matter shouldn’t plan to keep his job for long.”
Outside Ken’s window, they could hear car doors slamming and engines revving in the parking lot. After 6 already. She’d have to start managing her schedule once Katie-Ann got here.
“Isn’t this a terrible deal even without the criminal stuff?” she asked.
“It is, but the board won’t know that.” Ken sagged slightly into his chair. “Roy will just package it up with a bow, and they’ll defer to him without ever hearing the issues.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Andrea pronounced, lifting her chin out of her palm. They all looked at her. “Georgia’s onto something. You have to carry the burden on this criminal stuff, but I can slow them down on the intellectual property before we ever get there. We’ve got that horrible Oracle contract, the source code problem, the ridiculous plan to pay the founders all cash. Maybe we never even get to the ethical stuff.”
Ken shook his head. “Roy won’t let you criticize this deal to the board.”
“Not up to him. The board will insist on talking to me, and once I’m in there I’ll let it rip. He can’t fire me for being candid with the board.”
Ken shook his head again. “He can do other stuff. Too risky for you.”
“It’s risky for both of us, but what’s the alternative? Not right for you to shoulder this alone.”
Ken considered. “Well, I don’t need to contact the U.S. Attorney unless the board actually approves the deal . . .” He brushed his hand over his stubble of red hair. “Okay. Let’s try it. Boy, Andrea, appreciate the support.”
“Happy to help. You know what, though, I wish we could make Burt take the heat for this Frankenstein deal he created. Why are we the ones putting our jobs on the line to kill it?”
Andrea was right, Georgia reflected as she headed back to her cube. Why should either of them be jeopardized for Burt’s stupidity? He should clean up his own mess, but there was no way to make that happen. Was there?
Most people are surprisingly inclined to believe what they want to believe, her father had taught her. Identify what the mark wants to believe.
She was pretty sure she knew what Burt wanted to believe. He wanted to believe he was a forceful, effective leader instead of some wobbly-kneed wimp who bullied women. There might be a way to work with that, and have some fun in the bargain. In fact . . . She slowed her walk, a little smile on her face.
Then she caught herself, and the smile evaporated. What was she thinking? She had to lie lower than a snake’s belly until this Archie thing got resolved. Just when Katie-Ann was coming, the last thing she needed was to generate another distraction and even more risk.
Too bad, though. Could really have taken the heat off Ken and Andrea, if she’d managed to pull it off. Another time, maybe. She hoped being responsible for Katie-Ann wasn’t going to make her jump at her own shadow.
“You hear about Archie?” Nikki whispered when Georgia picked up her phone.
Georgia whispered back. “No. What about him?”
“He’s leaving the company. Today.”
“He quit?”
“Ssh. Don’t know if he quit. He might’ve gotten fired. Paul Holder and Sally came to see Roy a while ago, looking really upset. And then Roy called your boss in.”
“Wow.”
“You could tell they were trying to talk Ken into something, but he was pretty emphatic. The meeting just ended, and now Sally told me to go to Archie’s office and pack up his personal stuff. You think he’s done somethi
ng horrible with our intellectual property?”
“Sure hope not. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Ditto on this end. Bye.”
Well, she thought, plunking her receiver back into its cradle. Done and dusted, as Gramma Griffin used to say. Now the Ingenious Tricky Countersuit could proceed with nary a Marx Brother in sight. And guys like Archie always had nine lives for some reason, maybe because they were all grown men. He’d get a recommendation from Paul and be wrecking somebody else’s company in no time. If Lumina was really lucky, his new company would be SAP.
She’d been anticipating Katie-Ann’s arrival for so long that when she actually appeared in the narrow bus doorway, Georgia thought for an instant she wasn’t real. Then Katie-Ann leaned forward into the bright California sun, grabbed the handrails and swung herself down onto the pavement in that loose-jointed way of hers, and Georgia knew she was one hundred percent Katie-Ann Griffin. They hugged while the driver extracted Katie-Ann’s duffels from the luggage compartment, and then lugged the duffels across the parking lot to the newly scrubbed and downright cavernous Subaru.
Katie-Ann exclaimed at least fifteen times on their way to the apartment:
“These houses are all bubblegum colors. That one’s bright pink! What’s the stuff they’re made of?”
“Stucco.”
“Where are the yards, Georgia? Everybody has these tiny little manicured lawns.”
“Oh my God! Are those palm trees?? They’re so . . . primeval.”
“Why’s everything so clean here? Where’s all the crap on the ground?”
Georgia stole glances at her as they drove. Her blond hair was wound into a samurai knot high on the back of her head, and her gray sweatpants were bagged out at the knees. She was tall and lanky like Georgia, and her dark blue eyes were red from exhaustion and wide with excitement.
“People on that last bus were pretty weird,” she reported enthusiastically. “This one old guy kept talking to himself, and then getting all pissed off about what he said. Nutty as a pet coon.”
Georgia winced. “Katie-Ann, there are some expressions you don’t really want to use out here.”
“Like what?”
“Well, a good example is ‘nutty as a pet coon.’ People might wonder what a ‘coon’ is, and not like it much.”
“Wow. So I’m an immigrant here, trying to blend in the way Gramma Griffin did.”
“Not sure it’s that dramatic.”
“Yeah, it is. Look at that billboard.” She read slowly, “Visualization alone does not an effective cloud environment make.” Must mean they still need water.” Georgia laughed. “Hey, if Grandma Griffin could make it in the New World, so can I. You can coach me, and I’ll listen to that national news guy at night, the way you did. Assimilation is hunky-dory with me.”
‘Hunky-dory.’ Georgia sighed. “You’ll have it in no time. Here we are.” She pulled up to the curb to let Katie-Ann get a good view of the shabby, two-story, stucco building with chipped Spanish tiles accenting the outside stairwells. Katie-Ann actually squealed with excitement, and Georgia was grinning as they each hauled a duffel up to the second floor and she unlocked the door.
“Like I said, it’s pretty empty.” Her voice echoed as Katie-Ann surveyed the room. “Just moved in yesterday.”
“You kidding?” Katie-Ann raced into the bedroom and flipped on the light in the bathroom. “We have this whole huge place to ourselves? It has great carpet, and look at all the windows.” She ran over and looked out eight feet across the alley to a filthy stucco wall. “Plenty of light. We’ll do stuff to make it homey.”
“You want a shower? I gave you the blue towels, and I’ll take the green ones.”
“Great. Then what?” Katie-Ann was using her foot to scoot a heavy duffel toward the bedroom.
“Then we head to a grocery store, and think about your school supplies. If there’s time, we can always drive to the beach.”
“I totally want to go to the beach. Ready in fifteen.”
Totally? Georgia laughed. “Katie-Ann, you’re totally assimilating already.”
Fifteen minutes later Georgia heard the shower stop. Five minutes after that she found Katie-Ann face down on her sleeping bag, blowing small snores into the pillow, the water from her hair spreading a slow stain across her new pillowcase. Unbelievable, how many things had finally come together to allow this vulnerable girl to fall asleep in this clean, secure apartment. Georgia covered her with the green blanket and settled herself at the card table in the otherwise empty living room to send her father the good news.
CHAPTER 13
“Congratulations,” Georgia said, opening a blue vinyl document binder to the correct page and handing it to Burt in the basement diligence room. “I hear Roy decided to go ahead with the deal.” Galling, really, to be stuck down here, helping this guy make trouble for Ken and Andrea. Springing her little trap on him would be so much more satisfying. Well, she’d happily settle for the satisfaction of knowing this was Katie-Ann’s very first day at Liberty High.
“Finally,” Burt responded as he ran his finger down the margin of the document. “We sure wasted enough time on that Norditch sideshow. Yeah, I’ll take this one.” So integrity was a sideshow. She took the binder he held out to her, stuck a Post-It on the open page, and handed him the next open binder.
“Yeah,” she responded, and then heard herself add, “If we’d listened to you from the beginning we’d have saved a lot of time, wouldn’t we?” Why was she provoking his obnoxious comments? Like pushing your tongue against a sore tooth.
He paused with his finger halfway down the page and looked up at her. “Well, exactly. I wish your boss could figure that out. We’re just lucky the investment bankers didn’t scuttle the whole deal.” Oh, so Ken lacked Burt’s excellent judgment. Strutty little pigeon!
She forced herself not to glare. “Be a relief to get it through the board next week. Are these documents for your presentation?”
He resumed reading. “Roy’s presentation. I’m getting it ready for him.” Perfect opening. She could maybe take one little jab.
“Really.” She arched her eyebrows. “Is that how he does it? I just assumed that since you did all the work . . .”
“Yeah, that would be nice. But Roy does all the presentations to the board.” So tantalizing. She decided to allow herself one more jab.
“Along with Andrea, you mean,” she clarified, with only the faintest emphasis on the name. “You prepare her presentation, too?”
His fleshy shoulders jerked in a little twitch of annoyance. “Andrea isn’t doing a presentation. She has nothing to do with this.” He closed a binder with a snap and handed it back to her.
Georgia shrugged. “I must be wrong, then. I thought I heard something . . .”
“Andrea doesn’t begin to understand this deal well enough to do a presentation. She can’t even manage the job she does have.” The hell with it. For the sake of women everywhere, this pigeon was going down!
“Well, then he’s probably . . .”
“If anybody were presenting with him, it would be me.”
“Seems only fair, doesn’t it? Maybe you could mention that to him. Have you presented to the board in the past?”
“Never been invited. Hand me that brown binder, will you?”
“Here you go. Does Andrea get invited?”
“Yeah, she does sometimes, but only about R&D. She doesn’t talk about deals.”
“I must’ve misunderstood then, or else this is a special case and Roy has his reasons. Maybe because she’s, you know, an executive vice president, which is such a silly distinction. Anyway, you probably don’t care who gets the credit, so long as the deal gets done.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Make me a copy of this one, will you? I might look into it, though. Maybe he wants me to present with him.”
She marked the document with a Post-It. “Would Andrea like that? Should you maybe talk to her about it first?” How
was that for ham-fisted?
His fatty shoulders twitched again, and he slammed the binder shut. “I probably don’t need Andrea’s permission to do my job.”
“Of course you don’t,” she reassured him with a little smile. “Anyway, I’m sure the board would like to hear from you directly. Here, let me get that out of your way.”
She was in her cube later, sighing with boredom and tapping her pen on the Futuresoft log, when Maggie’s telephone voice drifted over the tops of the cubes. “Hi, Mary. Find anybody to go to the airport? What about Sally’s admin? Another one??” She lowered her voice to a jokey, conspiratorial whisper. “She isn’t having much luck with admins, is she?” She resumed speaking normally. “Okay, let me ask around.”
Georgia stood up, stretched her arms in a luxurious Y, and wandered over to Maggie’s cube. “Somebody need to go to the airport?”
Maggie was holding the receiver against her chest, and her double hoop earrings gyrated as she turned to Georgia. “Glen Terkes left for the European customer conference without his meds. Sally could take them in her carry-on, but Mary can’t find anybody to get them to her.”
Georgia rubbed her eye and shrugged. “Why don’t I take them? I could use an excuse to get out of my cube for a while.”
The big manila envelope that Glen’s admin rushed into her hands ten minutes later had only been closed with the clasp. What was she hauling, anyway? She got into her car, unbent the clasp and glanced inside. Afrin nose spray, big deal. But there was also a bulky little manila envelope with Terkes’ name handwritten across the seal, and that little envelope had been sealed so very carefully.
Made a person curious, really.
She pulled into the Starbucks just before the freeway entrance, and carried the smaller manila envelope inside. “Could I ask just a great big favor?” She smiled wistfully at the barista, a thin young man with the posture of a comma.