He winks, and Renny isn’t sure if it was at her or the old man. Glancing between the two Cedars, Renny can’t help but notice the resemblance between them. Trey is blond where Walt is gray, his outdoorsy tan has not been as marred by the lines of time, but he is clearing the sapling version of the elder.
Val touches Trey’s arm. “It takes a lot to be an achiever and to find your purpose. And it’s evident you’ve done a great deal to steer your grandfather’s company in some wonderful new directions.”
Something in Val’s motion brings the vision of her tryst with Lance vividly to Renny’s mind, and like falling dominos, it sends her unchecked thoughts into verbal flight. “I couldn’t agree more. In fact, Val was saying just last night how everything has a purpose. Didn’t you Val?”
Lance turns ashen.
Val’s eyes narrow, but her smile remains unfaltering. “Well gentlemen, have a seat and let’s get to the purpose that brought us here—launching Cedar Foods’ new snack chip. Lance, you’ll present first.” Like a snake in one fluid motion, she gestures for them to sit and then entwines Renny’s arm. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”
“Hmm?” Renny says.
“Outside.”
Following Val out of the room, Renny reminds herself that it doesn’t matter. Nothing does, because Val is going to fire her anyway. She’s been facing down that fact all morning. Yet for all her mental bravado, when the heavy mahogany door slams behind her, she almost jumps out of her skin.
“What the hell was that about?” Val snaps.
Renny absorbs the question and throws her shoulders back. “I think we both know.”
“You’re stepping in way over your head. Don’t screw with me!”
“I don’t need to. Lance already has that job.”
“I, well, I…” Val stammers.
Renny’s entire body tingles, preening that for once she had the right comeback and the gumption to use it. The Dynasty-ness of it fuels her. “I saw you both in the art department last night. I’d tell your husband if I didn’t know that is exactly what you want.”
Val’s face is colored with one-upmanship. “Some information, no matter how titillating, is useless isn’t?”
Renny smirks. “However, I’m sure the partners would just love to hear all about it.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh yes, I would. So Val, a piece of advice—don’t screw with me. Now, I have a presentation to do and then I have an appointment to get to. I advise you to keep things on schedule.” The heavy boardroom door is weightless as Renny flings it open and walks back in. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest.
Val storms after her, all heads swivelling in her direction.
“Should I begin?” Lance asks.
Val shoos at him, “Get…let’s get started. Go, go.” She takes a seat at the end of the conference table and pours herself a glass of water.
Lance begins his presentation and his boring inflections send Renny’s mind orbiting. Tuning him out, Renny retraces the steps of her own presentation. After a while, she looks at Val, who appears riveted by Lance’s moves.
Tapping a pointer on the easel at the front of the room after a half hour presentation delivered in monotone, Lance begins to wrap up. “After test marketing in the Southwest here, here and here.” Tap, tap, tap. “Our national campaign will lead off with the image of the potato chip that won the west.” Tap. He slowly removes one board, revealing another with a picture of a cowboy roping a Mr. Potato Head look-a-like.
Renny gasps. He took her western approach, the one Val told her not to use. But he butchered it. What was he thinking using Mr. Potato Head?
Lance waves grandly. “Together, Cedar Foods and Heffner, Wilde and Cook will create marketing history. I give to you Lasso Chips from Cedar Foods.”
Renny looks down to keep from laughing out loud.
“Heh, heh, heh.”
She looks up. Across the table, Walt chortles, while an oblivious Lance nods victoriously at Val.
“Is that Potato Head?” Walt asks, cocking one gray eyebrow.
Lance beams. “It’s more a representation of him, sir. We still have to work out the licensing rights for the actual Mr. Potato Head. Fingers crossed, we’ll get him.”
The older man’s mouth forms a hard line across his face making the words that manage to slip out seem even more astonishing. “Son, let me tell you something. There is no way we are using that.”
Renny resists the urge to lunge across the table and hug Walt Cedar.
Val interjects. “Walter, look at the big picture. Consider the pitch a broad stroke, with the rest to be interpreted, much like an impressionist painting. The main subject can always change to say, a horse or perhaps a cow or…”
“A bull.” Lance offers.
“There’s too much bull here for my liking,” Walt quips.
The taupe suits rush to be heard.
“The potato is sooo passé.”
“Completely oversaturated.”
“That potato will be lucky if he can even find work in radio.”
They nod like monochromatic bobbleheads.
“Enough!” Walt snaps, turning to his grandson. “What do you think?”
Trey pauses before answering. “I like the roll out plans, but I don’t see what Mr. Potato Head or any of it has to do with the chips. I think we should move on to the next idea.”
Walt shoots a fiery glare at Renny. “What are you waiting for? Get on with it!”
“Yes Renny, we can hardly wait,” Val adds acrimoniously.
Renny’s heart hammers and her stomach clenches as she takes her place at the front of the room, quickly arranging her covered boards on the easel. Then after plugging her laptop into the projector she lowers the screen in the front of the room. “Nothing to lose,” Renny whispers to herself, before turning to face them.
The blood rushes to her face as she begins her pitch. Her eyes bounce between Val’s grimace and Walt’s poker face, both cause her to stumble over her words. She recovers though, like an actress before a live audience for the first time, by shifting her gaze over their heads. Covering the details of her roll out plans, Renny’s hand motions become reflexive instead of rehearsed and the pitch inhabits her, physically illustrating the passion and conviction behind her ideas. With a final flick of her wrist she reveals the easel, a picture of a snack package with Cosmo’s Chips emblazoned across. “I give you Cosmo’s Chips.”
Renny turns out the lights and taps her computer, sending her PowerPoint presentation to the screen. The opening image is a picture of a waiter in a white shirt and black bowtie holding a silver platter with a single bag of Cosmo’s Chips. Only the face of the waiter is blank with a black question mark. On his shirt is an engraved nametag that reads Cosmo.
“The chips are painstakingly watched over by Cosmo, our appointed crunchmeister. And I’m sure you all want to know who Cosmo is. In the same vein as Sam Breakstone, Frank Perdue and Dave Thomas,” the next picture fills in the blank face. “I give you Walt Cedar as Cosmo, our new pitchman. Cosmo, the guardian of the perfect potato chip.”
Renny continues to narrate as pictures of Walt in a variety of clothes and settings appear. “Consumers will find Cosmo’s Chips regardless of whether they shop at Wal-Mart or Balducci’s. Cosmo will be the cashier at a grocery store, the waiter in a fine restaurant and the cafeteria guy at school. No matter the setting, the chips Cosmo recommends are always the same. Always the best. Always the crunchiest. Because they are Cosmo’s Chips.”
Trey nods vigorously. “Grandfather as the pitchman. That’s great!”
The taupe suits weigh in with their opinions.
“Brilliant.”
“Fabulous.”
“Inspired.”
“Quiet!” Walt shouts.
Renny’s heart plummets like an elevator in a freefall, dragging her confidence with it. He hates it. What was I thinking?
Val flicks the lights on from behind her. “
Well I think we all realize why this won’t work. Renny, I’m very disappointed you didn’t follow through with the original plan we discussed. I think you know what the consequences are due to this brazen disregard for my instructions.”
Walt bellows, “I thought I asked everyone to be quiet!”
Val’s mouth is poised to retort, but finding herself snared in Walt’s hard glare, she demurely shuts it.
He closes his eyes.
Don’t cry, Renny tells herself. No matter what he says or Val does, don’t cry!
Walt’s eyes fly open and he silently scrutinizes Renny.
She stands erect, like a tree daring to stand up to an approaching hurricane.
“I love it!” he thunders.
Renny’s head snaps back. “Sir?”
“Excuse me?” Val sputters.
His face warms, as a lazy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t look so surprised. Despite what you may have heard, I don’t hate everything. And I can always tell a winning idea. Only one change,” he instructs, pointing to the picture on the easel of the waiter uniform. “No bowties for me.”
Trey affectionately nudges him. “You won’t have to, grandfather. The Cosmo character should be a man of the people, that’s the appeal.”
Renny joins in. “Exactly! Your natural charisma will ensure that sir.”
Walt Cedar beams.
“Now Walter,” Val argues. “Let’s not forget, you liked parts of the first pitch as well. And I have to advise you against this pitchman idea.”
He roars at her, “My grandson thinks it’s great and so do I. What is the problem?”
For the second time, Renny has to hold back from throwing her arms around the old man.
Val huffs. “It’s not a problem, I guess. Well, if you’re all in agreement, I suppose…”
Walt pushes his chair back and stands. “Then let’s go to your office and put it to bed.”
“That’s not the only thing going to bed in there.” Renny quips as Val passes.
The meeting breaks up as the bitter aroma of overcooked coffee drifts through the room. Renny feels the coolness of her perspiration soaked blouse brushing against her skin and she shivers. Yet, like a porous sponge she absorbs the surrounding adulation, shaking the firm hands proffered and nodding at the congratulatory comments that accompany them.
***
After twenty minutes of accepting “well done’s” and “start packing for your corner office,” Renny is back at her desk about to leave for New Jersey. It is one-thirty. She quickly checks her e-mail before slamming her laptop shut and stuffing it in her bag.
Lucy stands at the doorway, “The car service is downstairs.”
“Any sign of Val?”
“No, Doris said they’re still in her office.” Lucy walks back to her desk.
Renny slips out of her shoes and into her sneakers. She is disappointed that Val has yet to show up and officially promote her. She wants to taste the satisfaction of whisking past Lance while he grapples with a large brown filing box containing the personal effects from his office. She imagines dipping into the back of her waiting Town Car without even a nod in his direction. Guilt tweaks at her conscience, but she flicks it away. After all, she earned this promotion and by dealing behind her back and into Val’s pants he deserves to be sent packing.
“Ah-hem!” Renny looks up and finds Val in the doorway. “Daydreaming as usual?” Val says.
“I was getting ready to go. Did the Cedars leave?” Renny asks.
“Yes they did.” Val steps in and shuts the door behind her. “That was quite an idea you put out there. The Cedars were very impressed.”
“Get to it Val, I can’t be late for my mother’s appointment. Whose pitch are they going with?”
“Yours.”
“I won!”
“Au contraire. The team won.”
Renny notices the satisfied look on Val’s face. “The team?”
“The team of Heffner, Wilde and Cook, which includes all of us.” Contempt creeps into her voice. “They’re going with Cosmo’s Chips though. Walt was quite taken with the idea of being in commercials, however misguided I may think that idea is.”
“And I’m sure as a team player you kept that to yourself.”
Val points her finger with flourish. “Touché. They’re going to need some guidance on selecting a new ad agency. Those three were fired right after the meeting. Lance will set up an appointment with Cedar Foods next week to work out a time table for everything.”
Renny shakes her head. “What do you mean, Lance?”
“Cedar Foods is a big piece of business and we need our best on this. You’re both going to work on the follow-up.”
“I thought the loser gets fired.”
“Just because someone fumbles a play doesn’t mean he’s cut from the team. Besides, you didn’t play by the rules, Renny. You were supposed to pitch the idea we discussed. That nullifies the conditions. And Lance is one of my best people.”
“I’ll just bet he is.”
“You’d be wise to put your differences aside. As of a half hour ago, Lance is also your new boss.”
“My what?” Renny is dumbfounded.
“He needs to have a Manager title to be team leader on Cedar Foods.”
“But I won the account! That should be my title!”
Val puts her hand on the doorknob. “Yes, that’s true. But I need to be able to trust my people to follow directions and you didn’t. Lance is in charge.” She cracks a sinister smile. “By the way, if you’re planning on leaving early, you need to clear that with your new boss.”
“I have to get to my mother’s appointment,” Renny exclaims.
“I’m sure that’s out of the question. Lance has scheduled a Cedar Foods meeting for four o’clock.” Val turns to go.
“No!” Renny declares.
“No what?” Val says, turning back.
“I’m leaving.”
“You have no choice but to stay.”
“Then, I quit.” Renny’s insides tumble as though she were unexpectedly heaved from an open window.
Val reels back. “You can’t just quit.”
“Watch me.” A sense of calm washes over Renny as she realizes she isn’t falling at all. Instead she’s escaped and landed—with no bumps or bruises. Renny grabs her bag and picks up her coat.
“You, you’re going to regret this,” Val sputters.
“I don’t think so. But you will.” And then she knows that by quitting she has cut off Val’s legs, diminishing her like a human shrinky dink under a bulb. Standing face-to-face with Val, Renny wonders how she never realized that they’re the same height. Renny walks past her and opens the door. “There is one thing you could do for me.”
“What?” Val answers coldly.
“Go to hell.” Renny breezes out the door past Lucy and the gaggle of secretaries who were listening on the other side.
***
The Lincoln Town Car rolls into the parking lot of the brown brick medical office at three-fifteen, teaching Renny once and for all—nothing ever goes as planned. Not for her.
Instead of light midday traffic, the turnpike was a parking lot, thanks to an overturned tanker oozing hazardous chemicals across the blacktop. Not that Renny ever laid eyes on the sight herself. That’s what the driver reported after listening to the radio traffic report and before they were guided to the next exit due to a three mile stretch of the turnpike being shut down. The exit delivered them into the road trip equivalent of purgatory, an endless maze of side streets leading no where. The car quickly filled with frustration.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Renny asked the driver for the umpteenth time. They’ve spent the last half-hour navigating the bowels of northern Jersey.
“Don’t you know? You’re from New Jersey,” he snarled
“Meaning what? I’m supposed to have a state road map tattoed to my ass,” she snapped. “Besides, you’re the car service dri
ver. It’s your job to know.” They didn’t speak another word for the rest of the ride, but he did pull over into a gas station to ask directions.
Hurrying into the building lobby, Renny searches the listings for Summit Partners Oncology. Suite 204. Renny mounts the nearby stairs two at a time and then follows the numbers on the second floor to the last pair of double doors. Turning the knob, Renny prays to find her family still in the waiting room. Maybe the doctor had an emergency. Inside, the room is half full. However, none of the people are any relation to her other than stranger.
Renny pounces on the young nurse seated behind the front desk. “I’m Shirley Shuler’s daughter. She has an appointment with Dr. Landon.” She wears a white lab jacket over a shirt that has a repeating pattern of teddy bears and hearts. Renny wonders for a moment if she took a wrong turn into a pediatrician’s office.
The nurse looks up at her. “What time is her appointment?”
“Now. She should be back there now.” Renny’s impatience is palpable.
“Which doctor?”
“Doctor Landon. I really need to get back there.”
The nurse checks her appointment list. “Your mother’s appointment was at two-fifteen.” Her eyes dart to the clock hanging in the waiting room. “That was over an hour ago. I’ll go check if she’s still here.” The nurse disappears around a corner and returns a moment later. “Your mother left already. Doctor Landon had a cancellation, so he took her in early.”
“Excuse me?” Renny shakes her head incredulous. “I planned this day based on the universal constant that doctors never take patients in early. So, no, I’m sorry early just doesn’t work for me today!”
In answer to Renny’s rant, the nurse quickly closes the glass partition between them and walks away. Renny throws up her hands and turns toward the others in waiting room with a “do you believe this place” look on her face. No one notices. They are all absorbed in their reading or whispered conversations with their companions. Renny turns back and raps on the glass partition, knowing full well the effort is futile, because no one is there. Suddenly an older nurse rounds the corner with the younger one trailing behind her. The older nurse smiles at Renny and comes forward to slide the glass open. Renny notices the gray streaks that stripe her dark hair and when she smiles the skin at the sides of her eyes contract like an accordion. Peaking out from under a lab coat is a shirt adorned with teacups and birdhouses.
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