“I guess you could appoint someone to act in the meantime.”
“We could.”
“Who? Tom?”
“Maybe. He’s offered to step in. Do you think he could handle things for a couple of months?”
“Perhaps.”
Inwardly, I wince as I think about Tom’s conservative approach. And then I let myself think about how it might feel to be the chief executive of Hera. Being a chief executive wasn’t something I’d ever considered. Oh, of course, you dream you might climb that high, but so few do that it’s not an ambition I’d ever dwelled on. And yet, and yet, why not?
I could make the decisions I knew had to be made. I could lead the way I thought a leader should lead.
Did I know enough? But the rest of the team was strong. Anything I didn’t know was well covered by Deepak, Fred, Ian, Marion, and Tom. We were a perfect team.
Tom! How could I do this to him? He had the best right to this job. And yet I knew, I knew he could not bring Hera to the launch date as well as I. I knew he could not achieve as much with our few resources as I.
Sometimes there’s a time and tide in your life that waits for no man. Or woman.
“What about me?”
Robert sips his coffee. “You?”
“I’m smart, I’m decisive, and I’ve got the right experience. And I know what needs to be done and how to get it done. Why can’t I throw my hat in the ring?”
“This is a hard job. Are you tough enough?”
“I’m strong.”
“Not quite the same thing as being tough. And you’re a maverick, Lin. Useful when the going gets rough, but a liability when you have to deal with the Government, and the media, and all the other players in this game.”
“I can be diplomatic when I need to be,” I say. “Haven’t I been polite to Adam and Tom and to the Board even when I thought they were goddamn fools?”
“It’s a thin veneer,” he says. “And the job will require absolute commitment.”
“I don’t have any family,” I reply. “No husband, no children, no parents. No distractions.”
“I’m not sticking my neck out for you on this one, Lin. Don’t go expecting that.”
I’ve pushed too hard. Time to back off. I shrug. “I expect nothing, Robert. All I ask is that you consider me as another option.”
Robert’s eyes lose focus. He puts down his empty cup to look at his watch. “I’d better get back to the meeting.”
I try to focus on the financials in my spreadsheet, but when I think about the opportunity to be chief executive, to be right at the top of that ladder, my heart starts beating faster and the blood pumps thud, thud, thud, so I get up and pace back and forth across the room.
I want the job. I want it.
Chapter 13
Why is it taking them so long? I send Robert a text asking him how much longer. He doesn’t reply.
I get up and pace back and forth, sit down, try to work, give up, stand and pace again. I’d been in my profession for seventeen, going on eighteen years, climbing that ladder, rung by rung, success by success. I’d moved rapidly into being a manager, not because I was one of the effortless confident leaders who could always assume they would be the one people would follow, but because I was damned good at what I did. I never failed to deliver. I argued for what I thought was the right way, and then proved myself correct. I recognized good people, listened to them, and made sure to pull them together into a team.
Robert used to complain I argued too much, but if you know what to do, it’s your duty to make sure it happens. Not for me the political silences and the working through others and the patient oblique influencing. I preferred blunt talk and direct action.
And that is what Hera was going to need if we were to have any chance of building our business from the bare earth of the switch site on the Petone shore, through the streets of the Hutt Valley, and into Wellington and this office.
I’m still at my desk when Robert finally reappears. He stands beside me, looking over my shoulder at the figures.
“How are the finances tracking?”
“This month is okay, but once the software project kicks in we’ll have much more of a challenge staying within budget.”
Robert sighs. “This business keeps getting more expensive. Sometimes I wonder whether we should have stayed out of it.”
“Do your investors have big pockets?”
“Big pockets but small stomachs.”
“Are you going to back out?”
“Not yet. We made a decision on Adam’s replacement.”
“It took you guys a while,” I say. Come on, Robert, spit it out.
“Stanton was pretty keen to go with his Old Boy network.”
“It’s a specialized business,” I reply. “Telco knowledge is important.”
“Hobb wanted to bring in one of his executives from Ozcom. Obviously, with a lot of telco experience.”
“The challenger culture is different. I doubt if any of the Ozcom managers would know how to move fast and with so few people.”
“More relevant is that Lane is from the South Island and the only people South Islanders dislike more than Aucklanders are Australians. Lane preferred your friend Heke.”
“Tom would be a good choice.” Although not as good as me.
“The three of them ended up deadlocked. Dao, on the other hand, liked the look of you, Lin, probably in more ways than one. He said you would best represent the multicultural aspect of Hera.”
A man with excellent judgment. “Et tu, Robert?”
“I thought any chance of meeting the deadline would be screwed if we lost momentum by bringing in someone new. And yet I wasn’t confident Heke could do it.”
“So?”
“Then Lane realized he didn’t have enough support for Heke and changed his choice.”
“And so?”
Robert picks up the box of business cards I have on my desk and takes one out, examining the company’s logo. “I hate the color,” he says. “It’s so—purple.”
“Violet,” I correct him.
“I bet you had a hand in choosing it, Lin. Nothing too dull for you, eh?”
I wait impatiently while he toys with me.
He tosses the box into the wastepaper basket. “You’d better get some new business cards. The job is yours.”
“Cool,” I reply. But it is a warm sensation that fills my body, from my stomach out to the tips of my fingers and toes.
“For the next six months you’re going to have to eat, drink, and breathe Hera. No running back to lover boy.”
Robert and I share stares. “I told you that was finished,” I say.
“And if he calls to tell you he wants you back?”
“I don’t want him!” I reply. “It’s over.”
“You’ll be a target, you realize? A foreigner and a woman? If you have a weakness, they’ll find it. If you make a mistake, they’ll crucify you for it.”
“I will be Caesar’s wife.”
“There’s always something, Lin, that can bring you down. Maybe in the job, maybe in your private life. The trick is to see it coming and get it before it gets you.”
“I promise you, nothing will bring me down.”
The management team gathers in the boardroom and Robert makes the announcement. They take it well, even Tom.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Well done that girl!”
Suddenly the glow dims a little. Then I tell myself, all’s fair in love and war and the best man won and other sad clichés to make myself feel like I didn’t just shit on him. But my intentions are good. My intentions were good.
I dress carefully in conservative black linen. When I enter the restaurant, five pairs of eyes observe me critically as I walk to the table. Lane stands and holds out his hand to congratulate me, then pulls out a chair.
Dao gives me a smile and a small nod of his head. Hobb also nods but without the smile, and Stanton shows me his teeth.
> “Well done, Linnette, I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job.”
Robert pours me a glass of wine and they toast me.
I put on the polite smile, supping on the French chef’s filet and sipping on a single glass of Pinot Noir that smells of sweat and saddles, and leave them to their port when the jokes become too masculine and the laughter too loud.
When I arrive home, I take out the bottle of bubbly and slip into the Jacuzzi. I lie in the steaming water, drinking my wine, smoking a cigarillo, and looking out over Wellington.
Tonight the water and the wine don’t relax me. Instead the blood pumps fast through my arteries. Fantastic opportunity. Terrific challenge. Huge responsibility. Thud, thud, thud through my neck, my head, my brain. Eat, drink, breathe Hera. There will never be a chance like this again. Thud, thud, thud.
Eventually, I clamber out of the water, pull on my robe, and sit down at the table. I open the draft of the e-mail I have been writing to Ben. I read my words again, but this time there are no improvements to make.
I hold my head in my hands while the sky spins slowly and my stomach churns.
I could send the email. Tell Ben I love him and ask if we can fix what went wrong. Ask him to forgive me.
Instead, I delete the e-mail.
Part II
Woman at the Top
Chapter 14
At night and in the morning, before the meetings start, my brain is full of ideas and options and plans for what to do. It is as well I have that time to think because during the day and into the evening I meet with staff, our lawyers, the public relations agency, the accountants, and barely have time to clear my e-mails before nine p.m.
In the brief moments between meetings, my gaze returns to the corner where Adam died. If I close my eyes, I can see him, the sparse gray hair messed up and his eye staring into nothingness. They said it was fast. I hope he didn’t feel any pain.
I pace the room before making up my mind. The desk is heavy, but I tug and twist and shuffle it around so the window is beside my chair and I won’t be staring at that corner. Instead, I will gaze out at the sea. I shift the bookshelf behind the door to cover the spot where Adam lay. Then the table has to be moved as well to balance the space.
I sit down at the desk and run my fingers across the golden wood, shot through with flecks of caramel, then glance around the innocuous room.
Better.
Two days later, I get in to the office early, open my laptop, and sip on my take-out coffee. While I wait for my overnight emails and my day’s appointments to appear, I glance across at the corner where the bookshelf now stands. Instead of family photographs, three large glass bowls adorn the shelves; one in chartreuse and lavender, one in shades of pink and cobalt, and the tallest an acid-yellow mixed with violet.
This is my office now.
I wash my hands in the executive bathroom; my bathroom, the toilet seat firmly set down, and stare at my face in the mirror. Framed by shoulder-length red hair my dark, slanted eyes gaze back without expression. I stretch my mouth into a polite, executive smile. I practice my smile again, and then for a third time. The eyes stay still. Good.
I tuck the ends of my hair behind my ears. Better.
Then I fish out a smart set of red-framed spectacles and put them on. This is my new image: chief executive Lin. Perfect.
That night I leave early and get home just before seven and turn on the television.
Men in black appear, moving in slow motion and in soft focus across the screen. It is an advertisement celebrating New Zealand’s beloved All Blacks, the national team for the national sport of rugby. Although from what I can see they are nearly All Brown. Now they are taking off their jerseys. I watch, entranced, but they go no farther. Teasers!
Finally, the ads end and the current-affairs program starts up. The presenter is a pretty boy who wears nearly as much makeup as they put on me. But I’m not complaining because he was really very nice. The camera zooms onto my face.
Wearing my specs and with my hair drawn back behind my ears, I think I look intellectual and authoritative. And less Asian.
“Welcome to Linnette Mere, the new chief executive of Hera, the international company that is trying to join the broadband race,” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Congratulations on the new job!”
I watch myself smile politely back. Smiles are important on television, but you have to get it right. Not too wide, not too small. “Actually, my name is pronounced Linnet,” I say. “The little bird with a sweet voice.”
“Sweet, sweet. As a woman, were you surprised to get the nod?”
“New Zealand has a great record where women are concerned,” I reply. “The first country to give women the vote.” I don’t mention that several American states beat New Zealand to this; no one likes a smart-ass, especially New Zealanders. “And, of course, not long ago women held most of the senior posts in this country: prime minister, governor-general, chief justice, CEO of the second largest company—”
He nods, happy to hear about Kiwis leading the world in something or other. Then he assumes a serious expression. “Why do you think a foreign company should be allowed to be part of New Zealand’s new network?”
The image of me again smiles politely. “Hera is a New Zealand company, Barney, staffed mainly by New Zealanders.”
Barney looks at me sternly. “But partly owned by foreigners. How do we reconcile selling our assets to overseas companies?”
“Hera is looking forward to investing in building those assets in the first place, Barney. We’re very excited about the chance to be part of another world-leading initiative by New Zealand.”
He leans forward and fixes me with what he probably thinks is an eaglelike stare. “Your appointment took many commentators by surprise. Why do you think an American got the job instead of the position going to a New Zealander?”
“Well,” the image of me is saying, “my father taught at one of the universities here and he told me so much about this beautiful country, that when the opportunity arose, I jumped at the chance to see New Zealand for myself.”
I didn’t admit he’d got one of his students pregnant. I certainly didn’t tell them he was a hothead, a drunkard, and a philanderer.
“Your dad lived here? That’s fantastic!”
“And, actually, Barney, I was even born here.”
I didn’t mention that after I was born, his wife killed herself, and my mother went back to Macau.
Barney’s eyes goggle. “Linnet! That makes you a Kiwi!”
“I’m not sure if it does or not. I left when I was a child.”
I didn’t describe how he was accused of murder and, although the coroner concluded Rose’s death was suicide, he was sacked and hounded out of the country by the media, his academic career in tatters.
Barney is now beaming at me. “So our very own Linnet Mere has been chosen to head up Hera. How are you enjoying being back in New Zealand?”
“I love being here. It’s such a beautiful country, and everyone is so friendly.”
Barney turns back to the camera and says, “Well, we’re certainly pleased to have heard from Linnet Mere, the new Kiwi chief executive for Hera. Thank you, Linnet.”
And the cameras cut and the light was turned back on, and Barney dropped his smile and I rubbed the space between my eyes where the spectacle frames were pinching, and then everyone smiled again and someone said “that went well” and I vanished behind the scenes while Barney interviewed the aunt of some murder victim bewailing—whatever.
I lie in the Jacuzzi, smoking and sipping Sauvignon Blanc, still feeling charged about being on TV.
Look at me now, Steve and Hilary; not such a sad little cuckoo after all, huh? Look at me now, Ralph, Mike, Ted, and Sean. I’m famous. Don’t you wish you’d stuck with me?
But I can’t tell the person I most wish to about my success. She wouldn’t understand.
When Mom stopped replying to my e-mails, I assumed it was because Ste
ve and his young wife, Mary, had just presented her with twin grandchildren and she no longer had room for the little cuckoo she’d nurtured for so long. When my birthday passed and no present arrived, I thought she’d finally decided I was too old for gifts. When I telephoned and she didn’t answer, I assumed she was away visiting Steve or maybe staying with Hilary in New York. I left a message, but she didn’t call me back. To my shame, three months passed without hearing from her before I contacted Steve to ask if she was okay.
Nah, he’d said. She’s lost it.
I flew over to see her in the home they’d put her in when she’d started wandering to the shops in her nightdress.
Dear Mom. I can still see her anxious face when I came into her room. She knew she was supposed to know me, but the memory of my name was gone. “It’s Lin,” I said. “Your stepdaughter.”
“Lin!” she cried, and her eyes relaxed and she smiled happily. “Of course, it’s you. How are you, dear? I like your shoes, are they new?”
“No, Mom, I bought them a while ago, but they are nice, aren’t they?” I’d said, and gave her the Swiss chocolates I brought.
“Thank you, dear,” she said. “I like your shoes. Are they new?”
The next time I visited there was no light in her eyes at all. She didn’t notice my shoes. She didn’t notice anything at all. I seldom cry, but that day I wept all the way to the airport. Very little of Mom was still there. Her body now grown frail and her mind mostly departed, I felt I’d lost my only family.
Dear Mom. I took you too much for granted. I wish I’d told you how much I loved you before it was too late.
It was then I decided to find my sisters, so I wouldn’t have to feel so alone in the world. Vivienne and Alison, did you see me tonight? Did you hear me stake my claim to our father?
I drag myself out only when my eyelids start to droop. Although I long for the embrace of the crisp white sheets of my bed, I stop at the table and check my e-mail.
In my in-box are notes from Marion and Ian and from several other members of the staff. Two suppliers obsequiously register their congratulations. A request for an interview from a journalist from a business magazine. Three salespeople wanting to sell me something.
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