by Debby Mayne
“Sure thing,” Stella said as she stood and headed for Tom’s office.
He glanced over his shoulder as he brushed past her and saw Marianne standing in the doorway of her newly decorated office, arms folded, one eyebrow lifted, and a silly grin on her face. Before she had a chance to tease him, he left.
Fortunately his buddy Anthony, the owner of Massaro’s Office Supplies, was in today. “Any way you can do a rush order on a nameplate for me?” Tom asked.
“You’re in luck. My engraver is in today.”
Tom gave him clear instructions on what he wanted. “I’ll wait.”
Anthony gave him a nod. “With all the business you’ve brought to me over the past couple of years, I owe you, so I won’t charge you the rush fee.”
“You know I don’t mind paying it,” Tom said.
“I know, and that makes it all the better to not charge you.”
A half hour later Tom was on his way back to his office with the nameplate in hand. He’d decided not to have it wrapped. Instead he folded the paper bag over it several times and secured it with tape.
Stella grinned. “Copies are made and on your desk.”
“Thanks!” Tom closed his office door and spent the rest of the morning going over what he planned to talk to Mr. Counts about. Then he remembered that part of his new plan included involving the Lord in all his business dealings, so he said a prayer asking for guidance and blessings.
At eleven fifteen he left the office and walked toward the restaurant. Mario’s Bistro was moderately priced, so he wouldn’t appear too pretentious, but it was a nice enough place to conduct a business lunch. Tom had enough experience from Wall Street and Sewing Notions Inc. to know how critical it was to walk that fine line.
To his surprise Mr. Counts was waiting by the hostess desk when he entered the restaurant. “I’m glad you were able to do this on such short notice.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty busy, so I can’t stay long.” Mr. Counts turned toward the hostess. “You can seat us now.”
“Right this way, gentlemen.”
Tom followed behind Mr. Counts, continuing to pray for the right words. As soon as they were seated, Mr. Counts pointed to the paper bag sticking out of Tom’s shirt pocket.
“Nice accessory you got there. I would think after using my niece to steal a huge chunk of my business, you’d be able to afford a pocket square and a nicer briefcase.”
Ouch. Tom momentarily pondered not following through with his plan, but he knew what he had to do. He pulled out the bag and laid it on the table.
“So what is it?” Mr. Counts asked.
“Before I tell you, I would like to let you know that it was never my intention to use your niece to steal your business or do anything unethical.”
“Humph. That’s what she told me, but I’m not sure I believe that.” Mr. Counts lifted the glass of ice water but put it back down on the table without taking a sip. He leaned forward and placed his face much closer to Tom’s than was comfortable. “Listen to me, young man. The bad business deals you make today will come back to haunt you . . . maybe tomorrow or maybe even years later.”
Tom shook his head. “I can certainly understand what you’re saying, which is why I’ve decided to move forward with something I’ve been thinking about for quite some time.”
“What’s that? Taking over all the sewing notions businesses in the US?” Mr. Counts shook his head. “Not gonna happen . . . not as long as I have a breath left in my body.”
Losing the account must have affected Zippers Plus much worse than he realized. Tom inhaled deeply as he held Mr. Counts’s gaze. “I’m not going to take over any sewing notions business . . . at least not wholesale. I’m changing the direction of Sewing Notions Inc. and I would like to work a deal with Zippers Plus.”
“No way.”
Tom reached for the folded brown bag, slowly unfolded it, pulled out the nameplate, and placed it on the table. Mr. Counts squinted at it, glanced up at Tom with a puzzled expression, and then back down at the nameplate. Tom had engraved Forest Counts, CEO, above the names of two businesses: his and his competitor’s.
“What’s this all about?” Mr. Counts demanded. “Have you gone and lost your mind or something?”
Tom shook his head. “Nope. I had this made in good faith so you would at least listen and consider a deal I’m offering.”
Mr. Counts lifted his hands and shook his head. “I’m not buying your business from you, if that’s what you’re asking. You can’t steal my accounts and then try to sell them back to me.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Tom leaned forward on his elbows. “I would like to gradually shift from wholesaling and distribution to manufacturing.”
“Manufacturing? Why would you go and do something like that?”
“As you know, it’s getting increasingly expensive to import some of the products we sell, especially the higher quality ones. With the trend of some of our more exclusive accounts wanting to buy as much American-made as possible, I’d like to give them what they’re asking for. There is also a need for products we can’t find.”
Tom paused to see if Mr. Counts wanted to comment, but he didn’t say a word. He just stared back, in apparent shock. Tom continued. “I’ve managed to secure the facility, and I’m having some older machines retooled to make the notions I’d like to offer.”
“So what is it you want me to do with your business?” Forest asked.
“I thought we could work a deal that is mutually agreeable.”
“I don’t know if any such deal exists.”
“I think it does. In fact, I have some thoughts sketched out here.” Tom lifted his briefcase and pulled out some papers. “Why don’t I give you an overview while we’re waiting for our food? This is your copy, so you can take it back to your office and look over it at your leisure. Just remember that this is open for adjustment and negotiation.”
To Tom’s relief, Mr. Counts took the papers, although somewhat reluctantly. “Let’s see what you got . . . not that I’m interested or anything. I just wonder how a mind like yours thinks.”
Tom allowed a twitch of a grin, but it didn’t last long. “This is the schedule of the transition and how we can handle the merger financially,” he continued.
“Merger? You didn’t say anything about a merger. Why would I want to merge with someone who starts rumors about my company and then turns around and steals my hard-earned business?”
Tom’s face tightened. “Okay, let’s get this straight, once and for all. I never started a single rumor about your business. All that happened before I ever took over Sewing Notions Inc. I’ll tell you what I did do, and what I’m sorry for.” And then Tom apologized for offering larger accounts the loss leaders that he knew Mr. Counts couldn’t match and still make a profit. He also asked forgiveness for implying that Mr. Counts was having a mental breakdown during an extended vacation a couple of years earlier. “I never came right out and said as much, but when one of the account managers mentioned the rumor, I didn’t say anything. Even though I didn’t say it, I know it was still wrong to let anyone believe that.”
“Yeah, that was a low blow,” Mr. Counts said. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and to have someone like you . . . ” Tom could see the pain on the older man’s face as he tightened his jaw.
“I’m very sorry, and that will never happen again. When I bought this business, I had just left Wall Street, and I had no idea what I was doing. All I knew was that it was in a heap of trouble.”
“That’s no excuse. What you did—”
“Yes, I was a shark, and I’m sorry about that. You may not understand this, but I was acting out of desperation. It was wrong for me as a Christian to leave my faith at the office door. Now that it’s been pointed out to me, I’m working on changing my business tactics.” Tom held Mr. Counts’s gaze, knowing the older man was measuring him—not just for his business integrity, but also for whether he was worthy of his niece.
“Well . . . ” The older man paused, appearing to collect his thoughts. “I’m willing to forgive your questionable business deals, but there is still that issue of dating my niece behind my back.”
Tom’s breath caught in his throat. “You mean Cissy never told you she was seeing me?”
Mr. Counts slowly shook his head.
Tom frowned. “I should have realized that, but I’ll take responsibility for her secrecy. After all, she’s a very sweet woman who didn’t want to fan the flames of anger, and she was fully aware of the bad blood between our companies.”
For the first time Tom fully realized the awful position he’d put Cissy in. Here he’d been so taken by her that he’d never given full thought to how being with her affected the other relationships in Cissy’s life—not to mention her professional life. He’d very nearly destroyed both!
Tom apologized again. “Sir, I am so very sorry. I was blinded to the implications because of my feelings for her. It’s rare to find someone who loves God as much as I do. She’s such a breath of fresh air and so much fun to be around . . . ”
“That you didn’t think.”
Tom nodded as he fell into a glum silence, sure he had ruined things forever.
Mr. Counts began to chuckle. Surprised, Tom looked up.
“My niece does have that effect on men,” Mr. Counts said. “Trying to grasp Cissy is like . . . trying to catch a butterfly. Every time you think you’ve got her . . . she flitters away.”
Tom leaned back and nodded ruefully. “That is exactly how it is.”
“Now that I think about it, I understand something else she did that made no sense at the time.”
“What?”
Mr. Counts smiled. “Why she left my perfectly fine house and moved into that horrible apartment.” He gave Tom a knowing look.
Tom was aghast. “She did that for me?” “That’s what I’m thinkin’.”
Light bulbs were going off all over the place. “So without knowing it I put her in an even more precarious situation, professionally and financially.” He gestured toward the papers in front of them. “No doubt you see my attempt at solving this . . . issue as ridiculous and unworkable.”
Mr. Counts leaned back, folded his arms, and gave Tom a long, assessing look. “Not really. Actually I’m happy to see your humanness.” He paused as he leaned forward and propped his forearms on the table. “In fact, I see that there just might be something to your business proposition, but I do have a few questions.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Tom said. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have.”
“In a nutshell, how do you propose we handle the accounts your salesmen have taken on? Don’t tell me you’re ethical in one breath and in another you’d hand everything over to me, leaving them stranded.”
“No, that’s not what I’d do. This is where it could get somewhat complicated. You’d have to be in a position to take on at least four new salespeople.”
Mr. Counts frowned. “Four? I just happen to know that you have at least twice that many working on national accounts.”
“I do, but some of them would go with me. I’ll need a sales force for the new company.”
Mr. Counts lifted the papers and started to shuffle through them. His expression slowly changed as he went from one to the next, carefully studying those with numbers on them.
The server arrived with their plates, so Tom shoved some more papers into an envelope that he handed to Mr. Counts. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Take a little time to go over this.”
“How much time?” Mr. Counts asked.
“I can give you at least a week before we get together again to iron out some of the details.”
“A week isn’t very long for a business decision of this magnitude.”
“I’m aware of that, so if you need longer, let me know. But first please read what I put together. You can have your accountant and attorney take a look at it as well. I want to make sure everything is done to the satisfaction of both parties.”
“I could give you an answer now,” Mr. Counts said. “It isn’t likely—”
“Please at least look at it.” Tom gestured toward the food. “How’s your pasta?”
“Good.” Mr. Counts lifted his fork and ate a few more bites before shoving away from the table. “I need to get back to the office. There’s work waiting for me, and unlike some business owners I don’t leave everything in the hands of my employees.”
Tom smiled as he started to reach for the check. “Understood.”
“I’ll get lunch,” Mr. Counts said as he made a grab for the check.
Before he could get his hands on it, Tom picked it up. “No, I called this meeting, so I’m the one who should pay.”
After the server took the money, Mr. Counts held up the envelope. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to look at this . . . maybe not even before your deadline, but it is an interesting proposition. Does anyone else know about it?”
“Just a few trusted employees, my accountant, and my lawyer.” Tom nodded toward the envelope. “If you decide you’re interested, I’m willing to answer any questions that you, your accountant, or attorney has, and I’ll meet with them if you’d like.”
“That goes without saying.”
“I can call you in a few days to set up another meeting.”
“Oh, about calling me . . . ” Mr. Counts reached into his pocket, pulled out one of his business cards, and jotted down his cell phone number. “Don’t call the office. Use this number. I don’t want folks in the office to speculate.”
Tom took the card and stuck it in his own pocket. “I understand.”
“I don’t want you telling Cissy about this either,” Mr. Counts added.
“You don’t have to worry about that. She’s not speaking to me.”
The server returned with the receipt, so both men stood. Tom led the way out of the restaurant and turned to face the older man when they reached the sidewalk. “I enjoyed lunch, Mr. Counts. I hope to have the opportunity to do business with you in the future.” He extended his hand.
Mr. Counts stared at Tom’s hand for a split second before grasping it. Tom suspected the man’s pride made it difficult, but he clearly was a Southern gentleman at heart. As they parted ways, Tom silently prayed for the Lord’s will to be done.
As soon as Tom walked into his office, he started working out the details of the merger, just in case Mr. Counts went along with his plan. Even if he didn’t, some changes needed to be made to transfer some people over to the manufacturing side of the business. He placed a quick call to a couple of the accounts he personally handled, letting them know that he was downsizing his wholesale business. He recommended they go with Zippers Plus.
By late afternoon he had the basic skeleton of the ideal plan and an alternate one laid out. He called Marianne to his office and went over everything with her. She had a few suggestions that he added. When they were finished, she stood and grinned down at him.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
Her smile widened. “I’m happy that you’ve finally allowed the Lord into the office.”
“Oh, He was here. The problem was me and the fact that I ignored Him. That’s all going to change.”
Chapter 27
WEDNESDAY MORNING CISSY stood at her uncle’s office door, fear welling in her throat. Finally she forced herself to knock.
“Come in.”
She turned the knob and entered. “How was your lunch meeting yesterday?”
“Good.” He leaned back, clasped his hands behind his head, and stared at her. “I’m busy. What do you need?”
“I’ve been thinking that maybe you made a mistake by asking me to come work for you.”
“Huh?” He straightened up and pulled his chair closer to his desk. “Sit down and let’s discuss this.”
Her insides churned, as she knew what she had to say. She was tired of always feeling like nothing s
he did was the right thing, and it was time to make things right. “Uncle Forest, if you want me to go back to Alabama, I will. Just say so. If you’re worried about what Mama will say, I’ll just tell her I was homesick. I don’t want to keep messing things up for you. I know how important your business is, and—”
“That’s just it, Cissy.” Uncle Forest rubbed the back of his neck.
“What’s just it?”
“My business. It is important to me. Perhaps too important.”
“Wha—?”
“I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking lately, and last night Bootsie and I had a long talk.”
“Is everything okay between you two?”
“On a personal level, yes, but business is altogether different. I’ve let it cloud my judgment on personal matters.” He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head as he studied her. “You, on the other hand, know how to live life. You’re carefree and find joy in the moment.”
“I do?” Cissy hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction. “So why are you so mad at me all the time?”
“Mad at you?” He let out a low chuckle and cleared his throat. “I’m not mad at you.” He pursed his lips.
“Who are you mad at?”
He shrugged and leaned forward. “Myself. You really like that Tom Jenkins guy, don’t you?”
She slowly nodded. “Yes, I do . . . or at least I did like him. A lot.” She sniffled. “But I don’t appreciate him using me to steal your business.”
He squirmed around in his seat as he glanced around his office. “Do you realize how many hours I’ve put into this business to make it what it is today?”
She nodded. “Yes . . . at least I think I do.” Uh oh, here it comes. The lecture.
“I’m afraid I’ve been wrong all these years.”
Whoa. She didn’t expect that comment. “Wrong?”
“Yeah. I spent so much time making sales, doing what I thought I needed to do to make this business successful, but I left out one key ingredient.” He licked his lips, closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then opened them with his gaze directly on her. “Faith.”