by V. B. Tenery
“No, thanks. I’ll get a cup upstairs.” Sara unlocked the door, placed her handbag and briefcase inside, and grabbed a leather legal pad holder from the desk drawer.
On her way out, she stopped at Jane’s desk. “Any idea what the meeting’s about?”
Jane’s ebony eyes crinkled with mirth and the corners of her mouth tilted upward. “Who, me? No, no. I just work here.”
Arms crossed, Sara grinned. Her secretary had the inside track on the company grapevine. “Don’t kid a kidder. You know more about what goes on here than the CEO. So give it up.”
White teeth flashed in Jane’s pretty, dark face. “Well, if I were to guess, I’d say it’s about the buyout rumor that’s circulated all week.”
Jane had nailed it. Sara expected an official announcement from the front office before the end of the day. “I guess we’ll know after the meeting.”
She hurried back through the skywalk. Time was short, so she took the elevator to the fourth floor rather than her usual route via the stairs. Corporate life offered few chances for physical activity, and she took advantage of the stairway whenever possible. At thirty-two, she attributed her healthy glow to a commitment to avoid the easy path.
The elevator’s one glass wall offered a rain-splattered view of tall oaks and a rippling pond in the park next to Global’s property. A ding announced the top floor, and the silver doors slid open.
The welcome aroma of roasting coffee beans exuded from a high-tech coffee maker in the butler’s pantry adjacent to the executive boardroom. Sara ducked inside, filled a foam cup and stepped next door.
Orange oil mixed with the scent of leather, greeted her as she entered. An impressive mahogany conference table flanked by fourteen plush leather chairs held center stage. Original oil paintings, highlighted by hidden ceiling lights, adorned the fabric-covered walls.
She scanned the table’s occupants, recognizing the faces of her counterparts on the executive staff. With a good morning nod, she eased into the closest vacant chair.
Senior Vice-President Charles Edwards entered and sat beside her. He checked the time on his Rolex and leaned close. “It must be something important. Roger called in the big guns.”
Hiding a smile behind the cup in her hand, she glanced at him. In his early to mid-fifties, Charles was tall, well-tanned, with short-cropped gray hair. He wore an immaculate dark-blue suit, always elegant and touchingly gallant. Jane called him GQ Man. He could be a bit arrogant, but Sara liked him. Perhaps because he reminded her of her father.
Before she could comment, Global’s CEO Roger Reynolds strode into the room and stood behind his chair. The first thing she noticed when she’d first met Roger was his charisma, packaged in a thin frame with perfect teeth and short blond hair. The second impression had been to stay on her toes. His reputation for ruthlessness preceded him. And in short order she understood why.
He placed a well-manicured hand on the back of his chair and scanned the faces around the room. His gaze stopped at Sara for a fraction of a second, then moved on. “People, this will be a short meeting. I’m aware rumors have been floating around about a Global buyout. The rumors are true. Yesterday, Millennium Ventures, a large investment firm, acquired Global Optics. The public announcement will hit newspapers this morning.”
Fragmented conversations erupted, filling the room with an audible buzz.
Roger held up his hand. “Two weeks from Monday, the new owners will arrive here at nine o’clock to meet with department heads and to tour the facility.”
Charles Edwards sat back in his chair, a furrowed frown on his face, clicking his Mont Blanc pen. He asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Will they bring in their own management team?”
Roger shrugged. “You know as much about that as I do, Charles. However, it’s always a possibility. I think we can expect some changes. A word of caution. Make sure your departments are spotless when the management team arrives for the tour.” He glanced around the table. “Any other questions?” Signaling that the meeting was over.
Sara remained in her seat for a moment.
Amazing. No rallying encouragement for the troops. Roger left them with the impression some or all of them could lose their jobs. Not a model of good leadership.
She retrieved her folder from the table and fell in behind the solemn group exiting the conference room. As she stepped into the corridor, Roger touched her elbow and guided her away from the crowd. “Come back to my office. We need to talk.”
A summons to Reynolds’ realm was a rare occurrence for her. Although one of Global’s eight vice presidents, she’d never been part of Roger’s inner circle. He liked yes-men, and she didn’t fit that mold.
She eased into step beside him. They moved without speaking into the executive suite. As they entered, Roger’s phone rang. He waved her to a seat and stepped behind his desk to take the call.
Sara sat on one of the earth-toned sofas grouped near the windows. Her gaze roamed to Roger’s massive desk clear of everything, except a pen set, computer, and telephone. No family pictures, nothing personal.
She studied the bookshelves above his credenza. Books said more about a man than his clothes or bearing. For a moment, her father’s study flashed into her mind. The classics found a home there, as well as his light reading collections by Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour. The King James Bible held a prominent spot within easy reach.
Roger’s books consisted of business management best sellers. Nothing to give insight into the man. Perhaps that in itself, said something. She mentally shook herself—being too critical. After all, this wasn’t his home library.
The call ended, and Roger crossed the room. He sat on the sofa across from her and sucked in a deep breath. “I need you to clean out your office. Pack your files and personal items. Leave the cartons there until further notice.”
Shock must have registered on her face. Heat warmed her cheeks, an event always followed by red splotches on her neck. A curse she’d lived with through every emotional crisis in her life. “I...don’t understand. Are you letting me go?”
He laid one arm across the sofa back, his face void of expression. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then what...?”
“The new owner hasn’t given any specifics, except to say you would be leaving your current position. There were no instructions to let you go.” He winced as though trying to show compassion. “I assume these people have other plans for you. Details have been vague, to say the least.”
She didn’t buy his lack of knowledge. How much input Roger had in the decision to move her out, she didn’t know. However, she felt certain he hadn’t gone to bat for her. Whatever happened when the new firm took over, she couldn’t expect any support from Roger.
No point in pursuing it now. Difficult as it was, she had to keep it together. Stay professional.
Roger asked, “Do you understand what I need from you?”
Of course, she understood. “The part about cleaning out my office came through crystal clear.”
He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Take the rest of the day off, if you like.”
She shook her head. “I’d rather pack after the warehouse staff leaves at noon. I’ve scheduled two weeks of vacation to start Monday.”
Roger nodded. “That’s probably best. The time off will do you good. I’m confident you’ll be offered another position, either here or in one of their other divisions.”
He stood and walked her to the door. “You will, of course, need to be here for the meeting Monday after your vacation. You should get answers to any concerns you have then.”
She released the breath she’d been holding and lifted her chin. Roger wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her angst. She felt his gaze linger until she disappeared around the corner.
*****
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Warehouse personnel left at noon on Friday, so she had the place to herself. She sorted through the desk drawers, packed the files
in cartons, and labeled them.
Jane would be curious when she saw the boxes. If she asked, Sara would have to tell her the truth.
Leaning back in her chair, Sara stretched tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. She’d packed, everything except a picture of Josh she’d kept in the desk drawer after his death. Misty eyed, she lifted the silver-framed photograph and ran a finger over the glass, smoothing back the lock of hair that always fell across her husband’s brow. A motion performed so many times in private before the relationship took a left turn.
The marriage had been anything but ideal, but she missed his dry sense of humor and his gentleness. She hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, to say she was sorry she’d failed him—to say she loved him. He’d left for work that morning and never returned. She blinked back the moisture that stung her eyelids, and slipped the picture into her handbag.
Financially, she would be okay if she lost her job. At least for a while. She still had most of Josh’s insurance money. Aunt Maddie also insisted on contributing to the household expenses. But in a job market flooded with laid-off executives, finding another position that paid as well as Global could take a long time.
From the doorway, her gaze roamed over the office that had been hers for five years. Her chest tightened and she inhaled a deep breath. This might be her last walk-through inspection.
*****
Security guard Don Tompkins, glanced at the monitor as Sara Bradford left her office. His gaze shifted to the next screen as the warehouse camera clicked on, activated by motion sensors. Cameras followed her progress. With shoulder-length dark hair and olive complexion, she stood out in a crowd. In a quiet way. Large hazel eyes and a generous mouth took her looks to the next level, from just pretty to beautiful.
She stopped before a bank of high-rise forklifts plugged into battery chargers. A lone machine sat apart, unconnected.
Unusual.
Don leaned in for a closer look.
Warehouse supervisors routinely connected the machines before leaving at the end of a shift. Dead batteries meant lost productivity the next day.
Sara stopped and glanced around, then dropped her handbag on the lift platform.
A bright flash filled the monitor. The floor quaked, and a loud boom sounded from the distribution center.
The video screen went dark. Emergency lights immediately snapped on, casting an eerie glow over the scene.
Don dashed towards the skywalk and shouted at the young guard behind the counter. “Call 911. There’s been an explosion in the warehouse. Sound the fire alarm and evacuate this building. Now!”
A rush of adrenaline made the blood pound in his ears as he broke into a full run. In the dim lighting, the camera showed the forklift, mangled and enveloped in flames.
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