Olive Oil and White Bread

by Georgia Beers

  “Already?” Jillian’s disbelief was evident.

  “Go outside. I have a surprise for you.”

  Ten minutes later, she coasted into the driveway, put the car in park and hopped out. She gestured to the Lexus, with a grand flourish worthy of Vanna White. “What do you think?”

  Jillian’s eyebrows raised into her hairline. “It’s beautiful. Whose is it?”

  Angie dropped her arms in a move that said, Duh! “Mine, silly. Ours. I just bought it.”

  “You did? When?” Jillian’s tone fell somewhere between happily startled awe and irritation. Angie tried hard to keep it squarely in the former.

  “Yesterday. I went over on my lunch hour. The dealer is a client of mine, so I knew he’d steer me in the right direction.”

  Jillian walked slowly around the sedan, running her fingertips along the sleek, midnight blue exterior, her eyes taking it all in. “But do we need a Lexus? It’s not exactly an affordable brand, Ang.”

  Angie nodded. She had prepared for this. “I know. I know. But I was going for image.”

  Jillian’s barely suppressed her eye roll. “Image again? Angie.”

  “Seriously. I read a couple articles in the sales magazines that Keith gets. They talked about how important image is for somebody in sales. It’s like I keep telling you. You need to look successful. Look the part. You need the right clothes, the right shoes, the right car to give the impression of success to your customers. You know? Nobody wants to buy stuff from somebody in an off-the-rack suit who drives a beater.”

  Jillian came around the front of the car, having circled it once. “You didn’t think it was something we could have maybe discussed together?”

  Angie nodded her agreement. “I know. I should have mentioned it. But it all happened so fast. It just felt right. Remember when Dom joined his firm? He got really nice furniture for his office and traded in his Toyota for a BMW for the same reason. Image.” She watched Jillian’s face, and could see that she wasn’t happy about the purchase and was fighting to keep from lashing out, chewing instead on the inside of her cheek—until suddenly, instead, she accepted it.

  “Well?” she said, arms thrown out to the sides. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to take me for a ride in your new luxury automobile?”

  Angie jumped into motion and opened the passenger door for her partner. “Wait until you see the interior. It’s going to blow your mind.”

  Angie watched from the copier as Vincent Guelli led the strange man around the office. The guy was young—maybe midtwenties—and Angie was pretty sure she’d seen him before, though she couldn’t place him. Must be a new sales guy, she thought, slightly irritated because she knew she’d probably be tapped to train him. She had enough on her plate with her own clients, but she’d been trying to do anything and everything Guelli asked of her in order to help her work up her nerve. A sit-down with him was her goal. A closed meeting, just Guelli and Angie, talking frankly. He wasn’t getting any younger. His health wasn’t great. He was looking more seriously at retirement; she could feel it. She could see it in the way he’d been spending less and less time in the office, delegating more tasks to others. Guelli was contemplating an exit, and Angie wanted to be there to help him make that transition.

  She was more than ready to run the company. She knew it. He had to know it. She’d been there for over a decade and had more than proven herself. She knew sales, and more importantly, she knew the ad specialties business. It had been quite a while now that she’d been studying marketing projections and reading business books. She’d joined a couple of small business organizations so she could network. She knew that changing with the times was paramount, and that Guelli didn’t have a clue. Logo Promo needed a leader to help it slide seamlessly into the new century, to help it use the Internet rather than fight against it. Angie spent countless hours of her free time doing research on how to implement the World Wide Web as part of a growing, timely business, and she had tons of ideas. Logo Promo was solid. She wanted to keep it that way.

  Guelli and the young man were headed her way. Angie finished her copies and looked up as they approached her, pasting on a smile and thinking maybe now was the time to set up that meeting. Why wait?

  “And this is Angie Righetti,” Guelli said to the young man as they stopped in front of her. “One of our best salespeople. Angie, this is my nephew, Jeremy Guelli.”

  Jeremy was nice-looking and clean-cut. With broad shoulders and an athletic build, he stood a few inches taller than Angie, and his handshake was firm. His khakis and polo shirt were neat, his leather shoes shiny, his hair combed. He looked every bit the young urban professional. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, flashing a perfect, white and very expensive smile. “Uncle Vince has nothing but good things to say about you.”

  “What a relief,” Angie said with a grin. “Are you coming on board?”

  Jeremy nodded and Guelli said, “I was hoping you could give him a crash course in the ad specialties business, Angie. Jeremy’s got a business degree, but is unfamiliar with how our particular industry works. I told him you could show him the ropes.”

  “Of course,” Angie said, suddenly uneasy. Smiling extra broadly, she said to Guelli, “On another topic, do you have some time for me this afternoon?”

  Guelli nodded. “Sure. I’ve got to be out of here by five, though, so come see me before that.” Gesturing to his nephew, he said, “I’ll show him around the rest of the office, then send him to you when we’re finished.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Nice to meet you, Angie,” Jeremy said as they continued on their way.

  Around noon, Guelli buzzed Angie on the intercom and told her she wouldn’t need to spend time with Jeremy until the next day. They’d gotten waylaid. Angie didn’t ask for clarification. Instead, she took the time to get her ideas and information all organized for her meeting with Guelli later.

  She’d printed out several articles about using the Internet to help grow a small business. She’d contacted several local chapters of different networking organizations and had compiled information on all of them, along with notations of how joining a few of them could benefit Logo Promo by helping them reach new customers. She’d researched sales managing and how to set up realistic quotas for salespeople, as well as information about sales meetings and how to pump up your sales team. Sales was a very difficult job, and incentives and positive reinforcement were key to keeping your sales force from slipping into frustration. Guelli thought sales meetings were a waste of time, so this one would be a delicate point to make, but Angie was determined. Optimism flooded her. This was it. This was what she’d been waiting for. She knew this company inside and out, and despite the difficulties she occasionally faced, knew she could run it and run it well.

  Time to prove it.

  At 4:30 on the dot, she rapped on Guelli’s office door, and at his gruff “Come!” she entered. He was in the middle of figuring commissions for one of his salespeople. Angie could tell by the handmade chart on the desk in front of him and the adding machine at his right elbow. Guelli was intimidated by computers, and he hand-calculated and wrote out all the commission sheets for the sales staff. Time and time again, Angie told him a computer program would be faster and more accurate—he’d made dozens of numerical mistakes over the years—but he remained undeterred.

  And stupid, in Angie’s opinion.

  She sat quietly, if not quite patiently, as Guelli finished up what he was doing, then set it all aside. Folding his hands neatly in front of him, he gave her his attention.

  “Okay, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

  Angie bristled at the pet name. He talked to all his female employees that way. Angie knew he shouldn’t, that she should ask him not to, but he was an old, old friend of her parents’, and respect and manners always won out. She could almost hear her father’s voice. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just old school.

  Uncertain just where t
o begin, Angie folded her hands as well and asked, “How’s the golf game?”

  That brought a big smile to his face. Though he didn’t appear to have an athletic bone in his body—short with a roundness that was rapidly approaching obesity, thick glasses, and a donut of salt-and-pepper hair—Vincent Guelli was an avid golfer. And quite a good one. Angie was reasonably sure that when the weather was nice, and he wasn’t in the office, he was at his golf club.

  “It’s not bad. Had a really good round yesterday.”

  “The weather has certainly been cooperating.”

  “It has. Much nicer than playing in the wet. I’ll be bummed when it gets too cold. Winter always feels so much longer than summer.”

  Time to zero in, she thought. “Seems like you’ve played a lot more this year. Haven’t you? I don’t remember you ever playing this late into the fall.”

  If she hadn’t been expecting his eyes to narrow slightly in suspicion, she would have missed it. “I play when I can,” he said.

  “With all due respect, you’ve got to be thinking that retirement is just over the horizon, yes?” There really wasn’t a delicate way to say anything resembling, You’re no spring chicken . . . don’t you want to retire soon? But she tried her best, making sure to pair her words with a gentle smile. Part of her plan was to appeal to their family connection, so she went on. “As you know, my dad retired last year. He says it’s the best thing he’s ever done. Never been happier.” Wait a beat. “Not sure my mom agrees.”

  Guelli laughed, which was her intention, and he visibly relaxed. “Funny you should mention it. I have been entertaining the idea of retirement lately. A lot.”

  Bingo.

  Without waiting for an invitation, she handed over one piece of research at a time, explaining each one and how it could pertain to Logo Promo. To his credit, Guelli actually seemed to be listening to her ideas, rather than tolerating them, which was what she usually felt like he did. A nod here, a curious hum there. She had him; she could feel it. He was interested. He liked her suggestions.

  A glance at the clock told her she was just about out of time. “I know you have to be out of here in a minute, so we can go over more of this tomorrow if you want.”

  He finished looking at the paper in his hand, then gathered them all up and tapped them into a neat pile. “I do have to run.” He stood up, grabbed a jacket off the hook on the back of the office door. Angie stood as well. “This is really impressive, Angie. Really.” Her grin widened. Guelli picked up the whole pile she’d given him and slipped it into his briefcase. “I’m meeting with Jeremy tonight, and I’m going to show it all to him. Then you two can go over the details tomorrow.”

  Angie’s eyebrows furrowed as she stood. “Jeremy?” she said, confused.

  “My nephew? You met him this morning.”

  “Yeah,” Angie blinked several times. “Yeah, I know who he is. Why are you going to show him my ideas?”

  “For when I retire, silly,” Guelli said, rather slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Jeremy’s going to take over the business. Didn’t I tell you that this morning when I introduced you?”

  Angie felt like she might throw up. “No,” she said, barely above a whisper. “No, you didn’t mention that.”

  “Bah.” Guelli waved a dismissive hand, one that said no big deal. “I introduced him to a dozen people in about ten minutes. I must’ve forgot. Yeah, Jeremy’s my brother’s kid, just out of college with a business degree, really bright kid.” He went on as he gathered up his things and turned off the lights. “We’ve been talking about it for months, him and I. Younger blood will do this company good. He’s got some great ideas, but—” he held up his briefcase containing all the information Angie had so painstakingly collected and winked “—nothing like this. This is great stuff. Thanks, babe.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

  He left Angie standing there, in his office, in the dark. She felt as though she’d been ambushed. How had she not seen this coming? She liked to think of herself as a pretty attentive person, as somebody who was well aware of the world around her. How had she missed a family member taking over the running of the company? And why on earth had she ever thought an Italian, old-fashioned male chauvinist like Vincent Guelli would even entertain the idea of leaving his beloved company in the hands of a female? What a stupid thing to hang her hat on. Moronic. Naïve.

  Her knees buckled, dropping her back down into her chair. The office was dark. The building was quiet and Angie had the sudden, discomfiting feeling of being utterly alone.

  The only sound was the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock.

  Angie’s voice was little more than breath. “Fuck.”

  The clock ticked on.

  Twenty-One

  Jillian walked into Starbucks and inhaled the warm, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She was almost always there before Shay, and today was no exception. They’d set up a standing twice-weekly coffee date: Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. It had started during Shay’s breakup with Laura, something to help keep her sane and focused, and it had continued on even after Shay had recovered and begun dating again. It was good for both of them to have a touchstone of sorts.

  The same barista, Jen, was there every time. She was cute in a pixie-like way, but with a very subtle edge demonstrated by the silver hoop at the end of her eyebrow and the teasing glimpse of a tattoo at the base of her neck, sometimes covered by her dark hair and sometimes not. Her sexual preference was no mystery at all, since she flirted mercilessly with Jillian every time she came in, today being no exception.

  “Grande nonfat Chai latte,” she’d announced before Jillian had even opened her mouth. With a grin, Jillian nodded, holding eye contact. “Coming right up. Love that jacket, by the way.” With a wink, Jen was off to make the order.

  There was something pleasing—and flattering—to be so recognized by an attractive woman. Jillian didn’t try to deny that. Why should she? What was wrong with liking attention? She certainly wasn’t getting much at home.

  The guilt immediately oozed in, as it always did. Jillian knew Angie was exhausted. She worked too much. She tried too hard to keep up with the standards that Dominick set—though he had no idea at all that there was a competition. She’d been cramming her brain full of research and ideas, and though Jillian admired this hard work, she didn’t understand it. She had insisted to Angie over and over that it wasn’t worth it, that Guelli obviously had no idea what an asset she was to his company, and that she should concentrate her efforts elsewhere, take all that research and excitement and find someplace where it would be appreciated. It wasn’t like Angie loved the place, either.

  Sometimes Jillian thought she might be getting through. Other times, it was like she was talking to a shoe, that’s how much response she got. And all the while, Jillian felt herself slipping down Angie’s priority list. Work came first. Work, clients, and money. Clients called at all hours; that damn cell phone was rarely out of her sight and she never turned it off. Jillian entertained fantasies of smashing it to bits with a hammer, baking it to ash in the oven, burying it in the backyard under mounds of dirt and grass.

  “Here you go, beautiful,” Jen said, handing over Jillian’s drink and effectively pulling her out of her own head.

  “Thanks,” Jillian said, flashing a grateful smile. As their fingers grazed, Jen gave her a sexy little wink.

  Jillian’s smile widened as the feeling of flattery washed over her. She found a table in a faraway corner near a window.

  She didn’t have to wait long for Shay.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said as she hugged Jillian and plopped her bag on the table. Fishing out her wallet, she went to order her coffee, and was back in a few minutes. “So. What’s new? And why are you blushing like a schoolgirl?”

  A shake of her head, a dismissive wave of her hand, and a comment about it being warm in the shop convinced Shay that she was fine and let her get back
on track, away from contradictory thoughts about Angie and the barista that were cluttering her mind.

  “How’s Angie?” Shay asked as she sat. “Still working like a dog?”

  Jillian made an exasperated face. “Always. I can’t seem to get her to understand that she should be happy in her job. Her boss is turning over the reins to his nephew before long and Angie is beside herself. She wanted to manage the business, and now that’s not going to happen, and she’s so disappointed. Tell me, Shay, what’s wrong with actually liking your job? I’m not sure she sees that as possible. It’s like she thinks if she just hangs in there, it’ll magically get better.”

  “Have you suggested she look for something else?” Shay started to sip her coffee, then thought better of it and blew on it instead. “There have to be more companies like hers.”

  “There are. Quite a few. But she’s stubborn, and she hates change. Look at her parents. They’ve had the same jobs forever. I think her dad worked at the same place for forty years or something ridiculous like that before he retired.”

  “She’s a hardhead, that’s for sure.”

  “The most frustrating thing is that she’s all over the place. One minute, she’s become a freak about money. It’s so weird. She acts like we don’t have any—we’re fine—and that she’s the only one bringing it home—she’s not, obviously. No, I don’t make as much as she does, but I do just fine, thank you, and I take care of our health insurance. The next minute she’ll do something that’s the complete opposite of what somebody worried about money would do. She actually bought a Lexus a few weeks ago. A freaking Lexus! She thinks it will help her project a more successful image to her clients.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

  Shay took a deep breath. “How’s the drinking?”

  Jillian shrugged. “It’s not worse, but it’s not really better. She’s so stressed lately. And angry. That’s new. She seems angry. Sometimes a drink calms her down. Sometimes it revs her up. I don’t know.”