The Doctor Returns
Page 28
“Yeah? What about?”
“This and that. Christmas, that kind of thing.” She waved a hand to suggest a broader conversation.
“What was your impression?”
She thought to the moment when she’d looked into Whitman’s cold, steely eyes.
“Surprisingly approachable, actually.”
Zach would find out soon enough that their new CEO was a cyborg, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep him off-balance in the short term.
“Good to hear,” Zach said. “Makes the range review presentations a little less daunting.”
She’d been turning to leave, wanting to exit on a high, but his words brought her up short.
“The range reviews? What’s he got to do with the range reviews?”
Regularly reviewing and assessing the performance of the products within the various departments under her purview was an integral part of her—and Zach’s—role.
“He’s sitting in on them. Didn’t you hear?”
She blinked rapidly, trying to get her head around his announcement. The range reviews were tomorrow. She’d assumed she’d be presenting to the merchandising manager, Gary, as usual, as well as the panel of store owners who sat on the catalog committee. Since Makers was a cooperative, its 645 member stores liked to have a say in what was stocked and how it was promoted, and the representative store owners on the committee spoke on their behalf. They could be a force to be reckoned with at times, but she was used to dealing with them.
Henry Whitman was a whole other story, though.
“When did you find this out?” Her voice was high with surprise.
“Last week sometime.”
Which meant he’d had days to make his presentation as kick-ass as possible, while she had—she checked her watch—less than twenty-four hours.
Aware of Zach watching her, she forced herself to shrug as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Should make it a bit more interesting than usual.”
“Absolutely.” He grinned, the epitome of cocky arrogance.
She forced her mouth into what she hoped was an equally confident smile and headed for the door, making an effort not to hobble in her too-tight shoes or show by the flicker of an eyelid that she was battling a panicky wash of adrenaline. Showing any weakness in front of this man was the equivalent of a limping gazelle bathing in gravy and handing out paper plates and serviettes to the waiting lions. She wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
In her office, she dialed her boss.
“Gary, what’s this I’m hearing about Henry Whitman sitting in on our range reviews tomorrow?”
“Oh, yeah. I meant to let you know. He wants to get a feel for our systems, see people in action.”
“Right.” She bit the single word out. Gary was a good guy, but sometimes he forgot to pass on things and this was a classic example.
“Relax, Audrey. You’ll do fine.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She tossed the phone onto her desk and called up the range review file. She’d opted to rationalize the portable heating range and had arranged her points neatly in a slide show presentation, complete with product specifications, images and pricing. It was fine, perfectly adequate, but there were no bells or whistles or extras. She knew without a doubt that Zach’s would have all of the above, and more.
“Crap.”
You can do this. You’ve got all night to make this better. Take a deep breath and think.
She stared at her computer screen, but instead of neat bullet points, she saw her bank statement. She’d stretched herself so she could buy the small one-bedroom apartment she called home. She had car payments to meet, too. If she failed to impress tomorrow and the Executioner put her head on the chopping block, it wouldn’t take long before her life unraveled at the seams.
She shook her head in instinctive rejection of the scenario. She had all night. It would be enough.
She would make it enough, if it killed her.
ISBN: 9781460318942
Copyright © 2013 by Ruth MacLean
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