Cause and Affection

by Sheryl Wright

  They were barely three paces from Cartier’s when it hit her. “Wait, you want something from a motorcycle shop? That’s not fair! I just let you buy me a very expensive gift. Now you have to let me get you something special too.”

  “This is special, and it’s not cheap. Look.” They stopped at the window display outside the custom shop. “See, these are hand-crafted, and they are licensed, so it’s not like it’s some knockoff.”

  She pointed out the bracelet she wanted, and Madeleine had to agree it was very handsome, with a pewter pendant on a braided leather wrap. The band was the same color as her very expensive Santos-Cartier which she sported with pride. Madeleine shelled out three hundred bucks, and placed it on her wrist, which was a good idea since it didn’t come with a box or even a bag unless you counted plastic.

  They were quiet as they walked back to their hotel. The day was perfect, sunny but not as hot as it had been. It was funny how easy it was to be with Kara. She did worry she had somehow blown it by not spending more money on her, but she could also defend her position. She believed she knew Kara now, almost as well as her siblings did. In a way she was sure, even in their short time together, that she understood her better. Maybe it was the connection only a lover could have. Is that what I am? Her lover? It felt real in so many ways. Even now, it was so easy just to be with her.

  “Uh oh. I think that supercomputer of yours is up to some serious processing. Any little side jobs you want to pass off to me?”

  Madeleine laughed. It wasn’t funny. The joke was in how Kara asked. Most people who cared to inquire into her deep thoughts would have made some sort of quip about her pretty little brain overheating or some such crap. “I’m going to miss you.” It slipped out before she could censor her thoughts.

  Kara squeezed her hand. “Me too. How about you join me for a quiet supper, and we can talk, just talk.” While Madeleine offered up her most gracious smile, she didn’t answer. Kara, no fool, caught on and stopped her just feet from the casino entrance. “Hey. No worries. Whatever you need to tell me I can handle. Just promise me you will tell me.”

  She moved them out of the entry and behind a pillar into the shade. The kiss she delivered was Oscar-worthy. If only it hadn’t worked as well on her as it did Kara. “Honey, you need to get to your meeting and so do I.” When that didn’t appear to be enough to reassure Kara, she added, “I promise. We can talk after.”

  Kara sucked in a breath as if she had forgotten to breathe. “Good. Very good.” They walked together as far as the elevators.

  Madeleine pulled her aside one more time. “Honey, I just want to wish you luck. I know you don’t need it. You’re amazing and you’ve got this. Whatever happens, remember I’m so proud of you and I believe in you. I always will.”

  What she didn’t say was “thank you,” or “I feel things for you,” or “goodbye”—but that’s what it was. She kept her emotions in check as she worked to make sure Kara was suitably ready and enthusiastic about taking on her board of directors. She savored their last moments together knowing they would be the last, then sent Kara off as scripted with a smile on her face and her fight restored. She had her groove back. That’s what they wanted, right?

  Yeah right. So why do I feel like I just betrayed the love of my life?

  Chapter Eleven

  It was exactly two p.m. Start time for the annual Wexler-Ogelthorpe meeting of the board of directors. Kara marched through the door alone. She had no backup here. Except for her brother, Doug. He and her father were the only family members on the board. The Wexler-Ogelthorpe board of directors consisted of twelve members, most of the seats holdovers from the old Ogelthorpe Advertising Agency. It was her grandparents who had first earned their place then forged a partnership when wartime propaganda specialist Arthur Ogelthorpe had retired.

  Each of the original board members was influential and successful and had earned their place. And like the Wexlers, most of their seats had been passed down to family members. Unlike the Wexlers, few had come up in the advertising business although most held advance business or law degrees except for Liam Brennen and Tom Longboat. They were the bean counters in the group, with Tom currently holding the post of Secretary and Liam the Treasurer. While it was a more diverse group than most boards, many of the names were recognizable as the old guard of Toronto’s elite like Shaw, Shuter, Gardener, and Lombard.

  Kara nodded her greeting to the ten men and two women of the board, including her father. This certainly wouldn’t be her first visit to a board meeting, but this time she was determined: she would win the vote or walk away forever. After days of reflection and soul-searching, not to mention long conversations she’d enjoyed with Madeleine, she knew what she wanted. If Wexler-Ogelthorpe intended to survive, they needed someone fresh to take the firm in a whole new and innovative direction. It didn’t have to be her, but it would have to be someone strong, creative, and ready to play hardball, and that was her offer. If the board wasn’t interested, so be it. She had a firm plan in her mind. On Monday morning she would either return to the office as president and CEO, or she would empty her desk, return home and begin the initial planning to start her own firm.

  Judging by the somber faces quietly taking their seats, Kara knew they had already been briefed on her week’s activities including the family fistfight in front of the account executives. Even if no one said a word, her swollen and bruised knuckles, and her father’s taped nose and the resulting blackened eyes, were prima facie evidence. Especially with this group. Part of their reluctance to put her forward in the past was a fear of just this sort of thing.

  This would be a hard crowd to sell, and for a moment she had to ask if it was worth the effort. She could just take the opportunity to say thanks for the memories, shake a few hands and walk out. That would certainly be a message. But she knew now it wasn’t what she wanted. Starting from scratch wouldn’t be a problem. She knew exactly who she would hijack from Wexler-Ogelthorpe for her new firm and exactly which old-school hacks she would leave behind. That would be a clean start, but it was still starting over. Taking over meant she would have to find a way to deal with the people in the company, including the deadwood who had long overstayed their welcome.

  Surprising her, long standing board member Corine Rusk stood, offering her hand. “It’s so lovely to see you, Kara. I can’t wait to hear your proposal for the leadership going forward.”

  It wasn’t subtle. Still, Kara smiled. Corine Rusk had been in the advertising business for longer than Kara had been alive. And if she wasn’t mistaken, old Corine had just swung her weight behind Kara and done so for the entire board to hear.

  That’s one vote. Before she could offer her greeting to any of the other board members, her father pounded his hand on the table, calling them to attention like a caveman.

  She took a seat in the auxiliary chairs placed along the wall. This was where guests of the board were forced to sit if they weren’t members. You didn’t get to sit at the big kids’ table if you didn’t belong. Dougie, from his place at the table across the room, gave her a smile and a subtle wink, wanting her to know he was on her side. He had said so repeatedly, but in these last few days had certainly proven his support. He might not have the backbone to stand up to their father, but he definitely knew what was best for the company, and maybe their family too.

  “Let’s not waste any time calling this meeting to order,” her father demanded. “Before we consider any new business, let’s ratify the minutes from the last board meeting.”

  Kara listened as he rattled on discussing old business and crossing off a long list of items the board was required to attend to, or at least be aware of. Once that was done, the board moved on to new business. The first item on the agenda should have been the vote for CEO. It seemed inappropriate to spend time voting on issues that would die with a change of leadership, at least the change in leadership she was proposing. Still, she didn’t officially have a voice in this room. She also knew it was her
father’s intention to let her sit and stew. He had played this game before. His strategy was to take the board of directors so far down the rabbit hole, any suggestions she made, by the time she took the floor, would seem far-fetched or impossibly off course. He was the type of man who would often say things like, “You can’t get there from here.” What a load of horse crap!

  “The next order of business is our prime time network slots—”

  “Mr. Chairman, I wish to make a point of order,” Victoria Eaton interrupted. Besides Corine Rusk, Victoria was the only other woman on the board and also the youngest. That didn’t mean she was without experience. She had grown up watching her grandfather and great uncles piss away the second oldest and largest retail legacy in Canadian history. In its heyday, Eaton’s had dwarfed Sears-Roebuck in scope and catalogue sales and its College Street flagship store made Macy’s look like a dingy Five and Dime. Even with her long blond hair and her petite figure, she was the embodiment of all the business sense old Timothy possessed. If she had been born the eldest of her grandfather’s generation, there was every chance the chain would still exist. Instead she had taken her business savvy and made a practice of turning around legacy companies just like theirs. “I don’t believe it’s appropriate to set a budget on network advertising much less plunk down a whole load of cash to hold prime time spots if we’re planning to move our media efforts in a new direction.”

  “Well, I… That’s not the point. One of the pillars we built this firm on is a clear promise to our clients that we control the advertising spots and have the clout to give them the prime time exposure they deserve. Going forward, we can’t afford to risk our reputation—”

  “John, I have to cut in too in support of Miss Eaton’s point,” Corine Rusk interjected. In contrast to Victoria, Corine was in her eighties, and even though she had inherited her seat from her father, Arthur Ogelthorpe, she had earned it too. Coming up in advertising with old Arthur’s tutelage, she was considered one of the best minds in the business. “I’ve been going over the analytics with my own people and Kara’s correct, we lost market share on every prime time campaign we mounted in the last four years. Interestingly enough, the results we achieved in some of our small social media campaigns have more than proven the reach and profitability of these new media outlets.”

  There were a few grunting approvals from the table, but most of the members remained silent and uncomfortably so. Corine continued, “It’s not my intention to get on the bandwagon, but I’ve been in this game longer than most of you have been on this good green earth. Now, we can talk media buying time, and client returns all day long, but we didn’t come here to discuss networks and campaigns. We came here to discuss leadership, and frankly, this meeting has already been too long for my liking. I hereby move that the board vote for the next president and CEO of Wexler-Ogelthorpe. Do I have a second?”

  Dougie, uncharacteristically brave, cleared his throat and raised his hand. “I second that motion.”

  With that done, the board members and the guests in the room turned their attention to John Wexler. Caught completely off guard and looking much like the cornered rat Kara considered him to be, he stood leaning heavily on the table as if about to deliver a battle plan— or worse, a warning to each of them, like they were all children caught misbehaving. The corner of his mouth drooped, looking very much like he had just tasted the worst concoction on earth. Spittle was collecting in that drooping corner as if preparing for him to hiss or spit.

  Before he could form a retort, Corine pushed ahead. “As per the corporate charter, all nominations for president and CEO must be received as written endorsements and presented to the secretary of the board before today’s date. Mr. Secretary, have you received any written endorsements to nominate candidates for the position of president and chief executive officer of Wexler-Ogelthorpe Canada Corporation?”

  Tom Longboat sat tall, answering. “I have, Madam.” Like Corine, his white hair, tied back in a neat braid hung down the back of his austere grey suit jacket signaled a long life lived, and hinted at the wisdom of his experience. His Mohawk ancestry was unmistakable much like his business acumen. He had earned his seat after years of establishing educational opportunities for indigenous youth and had a reputation as a tough talker and tougher negotiator. “I have received two sealed nominations. If there are no objections, I will proceed to break the seals and read the nominations.”

  The room was uncomfortably silent as his arthritic old fingers wrestled with the sealed documents. Finally, managing to peel back the first envelope flap and remove the page inside, he read, “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Treasurer, members of the board, and guests, Douglas Wexler has been nominated to take the seat of president and chair of the board. The nomination was received from board trustee Davis Shaw.”

  “Do we have a second for the nomination?” Corine requested.

  When the room remained silent, John Wexler inserted himself, calling out, “I second the nomination.”

  It looked like Corine would argue. The chair did not usually intervene in motions, but it wasn’t against the rules. Instead she remained silent, waiting for Tom like the rest.

  It took a long moment for him to peel open the second envelope. “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Treasurer, members of the board, and guests, Kara Wexler has been nominated to take the seat of president and chair of the board. The nomination was received from board member and trustee…Douglas Wexler?”

  From his seat, Kara’s father hissed at the board, “Is there anyone wanting to second this?”

  “I second the nomination,” Corine Rusk said without hesitation.

  Victoria Eaton inserted herself again. “Point of order Mr. Chair. As Douglas has signaled his endorsement of Kara Wexler with his written nomination, I believe it prudent we ask him if he accepts his own nomination?”

  John sputtered again. “Of course he accepts it!”

  It was Tom Longboat who kept them on track, asking, “Mr. Wexler. Douglas, I mean. Are you in agreement with your nomination?”

  Looking far braver than Kara imagined he was feeling, he stood, answering, “No, Mr. Secretary. I decline the nomination for the position of President and CEO.”

  “Very well,” Longboat answered, wasting no time in making sure they understood who was left standing. “The vote proposed is therefore between the return of John Wexler to the office in question or for Kara Wexler to succeed the current chair.”

  “Mr. Chairman,” Corine said clearly, “As we are well versed in the capabilities of each candidate, I move to skip any debate.” When Douglas was quick to second the motion, she pushed ahead before John Wexler caught up. “If there are no objections from the board, let’s have the secretary pass out the voting forms.”

  While John Wexler stood sputtering, the secretary’s niece, sitting in the visitor’s chair beside Kara, jumped to her feet handing out the forms. She was traveling with her elderly uncle and clearly saw it her duty to take up where the elder man might struggle. It was also a brilliant move on Corine’s part. Voting cards and envelopes were passed out so fast, her father had no time to mount his argument. He slumped back in his chair, clearly displeased and glaring at Dougie before focusing his most venomous look at his eldest daughter.

  It didn’t matter. It took only moments for each board member to scribble a name on the blank form and stuff it in the supplied envelope. Still standing, the perky niece collected them, laying them carefully in a stack in front of her uncle. Kara knew he was a proud man and wouldn’t ask for assistance in tallying votes. The board members, in respect for confidentiality, moved away from the table, taking the opportunity to refill coffee cups or continue conversations that had been interrupted by the start of the meeting. It took a grueling ten minutes for the Secretary to open, sort, and record each vote.

  He cleared his throat and announced, “Hmm—hmm. If you’ll take your seats.” They did so in a leisurely, almost sentimental way. “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Treasurer, and members of the board.
By majority vote, the board of directors of Wexler-Ogelthorpe has selected a new president and chief executive officer. Kara Wexler.”

  There was applause all around the table, and a few of the guests jumped up offering handshakes. The secretary’s enthusiastic niece gave Kara a big hug, before performing her uncle’s duty and leading Kara to the head of the table. John Wexler stood in place, frozen or unwilling to move, shocked by the outcome, perhaps even confused.

  No matter how she felt, Kara knew it was now her job to bridge the chasm between them. It was her first duty of the day. She offered her hand, and when he failed to respond, she simply reached over, grabbing the arm and limp hand hanging at his side. “Thank you,” she said in a voice that carried throughout the room. “Thank you for your support and leadership in the past and what I hope will be your continued support and insights in the future.”

  She directed him back to his chair at the head of the table and, standing in deference beside him, she delivered what she intended was the call to action for her pivot plan.

  It was another two hours before they were completely finished. That was one of the challenges that came with having a global board of directors. Getting them all together more than once a year was an extreme challenge, and one she intended to rectify by calling a monthly online board meeting to keep them up-to-date with the industry and the ever-changing delivery vehicles for modern media.

  Once the board meeting officially adjourned, there were toasts to hear, drinks to share, and well-intended advice she dutifully accepted. The truth was, glorious as the moment was and as much as she cherished it, she so wished Madeleine could be there to share in her elation. Dougie too seemed to be distracted. It took quite some doing to make it to his side, between well-wishers and advice from the old boys who all just wanted to help. “What’s up with you?” she asked quietly, slipping up to his side.