by JM Dragon
“Tell me, Charles. I might as well have all the bad news, after all once you hit rock bottom the only way is up. Right?” Her smile disappeared, and she gazed intently at the magazine on the table in front of her.
Charles reached across and placed a hand on hers. “Yes, it is. Well, from my research of the sales books, the order forecast is excellent. We have more orders than we can produce even if we didn’t have the supply chain problem.”
“Well that’s wonderful news.”
“Yes, it would be if whoever negotiated the discount rates with our top-flight customers hadn’t literally given away the product. The rates are below cost, there isn’t a profit margin for at least seventy percent of the sales. I need to do more work, but I’d say the shift of sales to the higher discounted rates started around three years ago.”
“Christine certainly must have hated me, and I don’t know why. I gave her all she needed as the second here at Desrosiers.” Gene sucked in a breath and stared at Charles.
Charles gave her a sympathetic look.
“You said the bank’s view of us will change…don’t tell me…I already know…incompetence.”
“Something along those lines. Sutters is your largest customer by far. If we can re-negotiate a fair price from all sales after today, we can hope the bank understands.”
“You think Ms. Merchant will consider this?”
“I don’t know until I ask. Will you give me that permission? I’m seeing her for dinner later this evening, and I know she will at least listen.” Charles watched the corners of Gene’s lips twitch and her frown grew.
“I should be there, Charles. I can’t leave this to you. I’ve done enough of that in the past and look at what it’s cost me: my employees and potentially the town.” Gene stood and walked over to stare out of the window.
Charles saw disappointment etched on her face as she moved away. “I thought you had an appointment.”
The soft answer was barely audible. “I do. However, my life and choices appear to be out of my control. This must take priority.”
Charles walked toward the door. “I arranged to meet Quinn…Ms. Merchant at Ray’s bar for dinner. It’s plain fare but quality. I can change the venue if you prefer?”
Gene shook her head. “No. What time?”
“Eight. If you get there at say seven, we could begin the discussion.”
Gene turned to face him and nodded. “I will be there.”
Charles left the room and sighed. “Damn shame.” He headed back to the sales administration office.
†
Clarence Street was a block behind the main street comprised of small wood houses, the vast majority of which were tidy and well presented. Gene glanced at the number of the house where Dee’s records indicated she lived. A part of her hoped she wasn’t home since it was, after all, only six fifteen. She’d tried to find Dee at work, but the woman was like a ghost. Gene could have called, she guessed, but that was the coward’s way out and Dee didn’t deserve that. The other more dominant part of her wanted desperately to see Dee and explain in person why she had to cancel their dinner date. Date. The word swirled around in her head and made her giddy. A horn blasted behind her and she realized she had slowed to a snail’s pace. She picked up speed, but only slightly, as number 60 must only be a few yards away.
There it was: a nice-looking house with white shutters on the windows and a well-trimmed lawn in the front. Unsure if it was appropriate to go up the drive, she stopped at the curb alongside the house. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of her Buick sedan, smoothed her damp hands down her black chinos, and faced the house. Clenching her fingers, Gene wondered how at forty-three years old she was frightened of… of what exactly she didn’t know. Rejection maybe, ridicule perhaps, or just plain and simple fear of losing that chance of connecting with someone important. With determination she walked down the small drive and tapped on the door. As she stood there, faint strains of music could be heard. She didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
The door was thrust open and Dee stood there with an apron around her waist.
“Hey, you’re early. No problem, come inside, I was just about to put the main course in the oven.” She grinned, and Gene felt her heart go in two different directions, anticipation and dread.
“I am early, yes. Dee, I have to cancel.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dee knew she was staring but words failed her. What had she done to warrant a cancellation? Gene dropped her gaze and did that weird shuffle on the spot that, over time, Dee knew meant that the older woman was uncomfortable. As well she should be! Why didn’t she call me it would have saved me the expense of dinner?
“I’m sorry, Dee.”
“Why? I think I deserve that at least. Do you want to come in or have this conversation on the doorstep?” She threw the door wider watching as Gene drew up her head then stepped into the hall.
With an angry twist of her hands, Dee removed the apron and threw it on the nearest surface.
“I need to have dinner with Ms. Merchant.”
“What? That woman is worse than Christine. She wanted me to go out to dinner with her and I declined. So, what are you? The back up?” Dee’s chest hurt at the vehemence she felt inside. “Oh, forget that, I’m just the help so you don’t need to answer that. I think you should leave.” Dee turned her back and walked two steps when her arm was caught.
“Charles will be there too. It’s purely business. So many people are fighting my battles and I’m passively leaving them to it, including you. I need to prove I’m the person the town expects of me.”
Dee felt all her anger dissipate and shook her head. “You don’t have to prove anything, Gene. Certainly not to me.”
“That’s the point I do…especially to you.”
Blinking at the ferocity of the words, Dee felt her heart swell. “This dinner…can anyone join?” She realized how presumptuous that sounded and looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. Look, it’s okay. We can have dinner another night.” She tried to pull away the arm Gene held but the grip tightened.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. I said I’d meet Charles at seven, can you be ready in time?” Gene rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry you look…”
Giggling at the flush appearing on Gene’s cheeks, Dee gently withdrew her hand.
“I’ll change. Give me five minutes. I’ve already showered.” Dee turned to walk away to her bedroom. “Do you cook?” The horrified expression that greeted the question made her laugh. “Thought so, can’t leave you to take care of placing the chicken on slow, huh?”
Gene’s rapid nod made Dee shake her head. “Not a problem I’ll just place the oven on timer and it will turn off when cooked. Give me ten minutes.”
“You can take as many minutes as you want. They can wait.”
“Perfect answer. Take a seat in the family room, it’s through there.” Pointing to the door to her left, she sped off to the kitchen.
†
Quinn looked around Ray’s bar for Charles but didn’t see him. She glanced at her watch, noting that it was ten after seven. She was late. Sometimes playing Candy Crush became so addictive that she’d lose track of time—and she had. Still he had brought the time forward an hour. Fortunately, Sheila hadn’t called her for another inane explanation as to why they didn’t have product. Her attention was drawn to a tap on her shoulder.
“Hello, Ms. Merchant, sorry we are late.”
Genevieve Desrosiers sounded and actually looked surprisingly relaxed. It wasn’t what she had expected in her circumstances. “No problem. I’ve only just arrived, and Charles is no place in sight.” Then her attention was drawn to the doorway. Crap. It’s that assistant and I did ask her for dinner.
“You look distracted, is there a problem?”
Quinn cringed. “No, I was just puzzled why Charles isn’t here.”
“Hey, the parking lot is jam-packed. I know the weekly draw is a big puller but…hi, Ms.
Merchant.”
Quinn opened her mouth to speak, unsure of what to say, and was thankful for the next words.
“Don’t worry, your vehicle is safe, Gene.”
Then the light bulb went off. So that’s what he meant.
“I never had any doubts, Dee. Charles is—”
“Right here. Sorry I was organizing us a private place to have a few drinks, dinner, and a discussion no one else can overhear.” Charles grinned. “Oh, I see we have a fourth.” He winked at Dee. “Great, shall we go? Ray has promised the best service possible, considering who we have here for dinner.”
Quinn laughed. “Guess you told him that I was important.”
“Well actually—”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s the case. Ms. Merchant,” Gene said.
Quinn held back. “Do you mind dropping the Ms. Merchant appendage? I much prefer Quinn.” Inside, her stomach had clenched at the continued use of her formal title. Who did that kind of thing these days?
“I can accommodate that, Quinn. Shall we follow the others, or they will think we have lost our way and I’m sure I could. This place is much larger inside than it looks initially.”
A sense of humor, who would have thought it. “Oh, there would be plenty of guys willing to help you out there. Look at me, I arrived yesterday and already I’m a quiz trophy holder, and Charles and I are buddies. I have to admit this town grows on you.”
As they passed several empty tables, a small area she hadn’t noticed the evening before came into view. It was behind a walled partition and Charles stood waiting for them. Behind the screening a table had been set for three, complete with polished cutlery and white cotton napkins and wine glasses. A menu was set in the center between a small bowl of flowers and the salt and pepper pots.
“Wow, this looks like a fancy restaurant.” Quinn chuckled. “But we need an extra place setting.”
Charles nodded. “I’ll let Ray know. What do you all want to drink?”
“Beer for me, Charles,” Quinn replied.
“I’ll have a glass of house red please, Charles,” Dee responded.
Charles turned to Gene. “Gene?”
“Oh, I have a decent drive ahead of me to get home, so I’ll stick with water, thank you.”
“I thought Dee was driving,” Quinn said and looked at them both.
“Oh, I only drove here from my house…I knew the quickest route.” Dee smiled as she settled back in the chair.
Hmm interesting. Charles took off to find Ray, leaving them alone.
“You been dating long?” Quinn was glad that she didn’t have a beer or she’d have choked at the astonished expression on both women’s faces. “Oh, this is your first date then. Wow. I think I’d have chosen less company but what the hey, each to their own.”
Dee’s tone was shrill. “We aren’t dating. Gene is my friend and we’ve worked together for years. It seemed appropriate for me to be here since we are all trying to save Desrosiers.”
Quinn held up her hands and at the same time discreetly looked at Gene Desrosiers who looked disappointed. Bit of an age gap sure. She understands but the younger one doesn’t see it…or does she?
Quinn saw Dee glance at Gene with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, sometimes I jump to conclusions, a terrible fault of mine. Well I’m glad you’re here anyway. I did ask you to dinner after all, Dee.” The tension in the area became electric and only diffused when Charles walked back along with a woman in her early twenties, who set the table in front of Dee.
Charles placed the drinks on the table and then sat down. “Right, let’s not waste time. Quinn, we need your help.”
†
Simone rested her hand on the folder on her desk and glanced at the desk lamp. She’d been unaware that time was flying, but now dusk made it virtually impossible to see the words and numbers properly. She flicked on the lamp switch and the light illuminated her desk very well. There weren’t many occasions when she stayed late when everyone had gone home but tonight, after her chat with Quinn Merchant, she needed to do that extra mile. Desrosiers had always been a relatively successful company, not as large as Henderson logging in the early days, but when that went belly up and left the area, Desrosiers became notable. A diamond in the rough some said. She dragged out a folder from ten years earlier and looked at the Desrosiers loans from the bank. They were minor, mostly to buy new equipment on a short-term loan basis, nothing unusual in that. The cash was used to keep the main flow of the business going and the bank loans were for capital investment. Of all the loans, none went above fifty thousand until three years ago. Then the loan applications grew larger for buildings and expensive equipment. From her visit today, she hadn’t seen any evidence of recent buildings added to the factory or expensive equipment, although she wouldn’t know what was or wasn’t. The question floating in her head…had she been negligent?
A perfectly manicured finger displaying bright red polish tapped at the largest loan application, $500,000 three months ago for a lab extension. She flicked over the request and at the details and it looked good. There was even the head office stamp of approval. Of course, the bank had insisted on personal guarantees from the shareholders, in this case the only one was Genevieve Desrosiers. Sure, enough it was there. She was no handwriting expert, but it certainly looked like the one from a loan application she had personally signed seven years ago. Then she looked over the minor applications for loans. They had all been signed by Christine Ager. Looking again at the signature on the hefty loan, Simone saw the similar twist of the g. I’m not an expert but, damn, I think she signed them all.
“Damn you, Christine, why did you do this? She trusted you with her company, her fortune, and the people who depended on her. Did you talk her into bed and then get her to sign away her equity? Thank god all you got from me was a part of my heart.” Shaking her head, Simone rose and flicked off the lamp. “I need a drink. A stiff one or two.”
†
Gene was pleasantly surprised that a bar could deliver such good food. Not that her experiences were vast since she rarely ate anywhere but at home. Now, listening to the discussion around the table, she felt invisible—unable to contribute. How odd and humbling at the same time that two of them, relative strangers, were trying to come up with a solution to her problems. Dee she could understand it was her employment and her father’s. Charles possibly, he didn’t want to leave Grady, his wife was buried here and what was left of his life without her. Quinn…now wasn’t that a conundrum? She had no reason, none whatsoever, to help them. In fact, she was probably on shaky ground with her employers. Yet the three of them were so determined to save her business. Again, she was the failure.
“Hey, you okay? You look pale.” Dee touched her arm and gave her a concerned look.
“I’m fine,” she said, producing a tight smile. “I guess I’m overwhelmed.” The whispered words seemed to be heard by everyone around the table.
“You should be,” Quinn bluntly said.
“That’s a bit harsh, Quinn,” Charles said. He had a severe frown on his face that creased his forehead with numerous lines.
“In a way Quinn’s right,” Dee answered. “How would you feel if you were in Gene’s place, finding out in the last forty-eight hours that you owed a large amount of money and you didn’t have enough equity to pay it? Oh, and not to help matters, your company can’t provide the goods to make the sales to pay the bank. Where does that leave her? Overwhelmed, I’d say, is an appropriate word.”
Gene felt like she was back with her grand-mère being chastised as a failure because, sure enough, that statement clearly pointed out her faults big time. It hurt more because Dee was denouncing her. Or was she? Thinking back on the words Dee used, they leaned toward defensive and not accusatory.
“For god’s sake, I believe she’s been duped. In time we can prove it with my contacts. Unfortunately, not in the bank’s time frame.” Quinn stood. “I need the bathroom.” She left the table.
�
�Sounds promising,” Charles replied. Gene watched the man she had promoted on instinct. When had she ever done that…never? Christine had been a skype interview and her references had been glowing, was that because they wanted to be rid of her? Perhaps.
“I’ll get more drinks.” Charles stood and left the area.
“Want me to leave too?” Dee asked, her eyes wide.
“No. Why would I want that?” Gene’s heart double flipped.
“Good, because I wasn’t going to go. You’d have to forcibly push me away.”
Gene’s heart steadied, and she smiled. “How old were you when we met for the first time?”
Dee chuckled. “Oh, a whipper snapper…I was sixteen. I was at that sullen age when there was nothing new for me. Was I wrong big time!”
Gene nodded. “I remember when I introduced you to Matriarch.”
“My god that was an epiphany. I’d always loved working in the garden. Mom wanted flowers, dad, veggies. I did both. Meeting you and the work you did, it was like my life took on a whole new meaning.”
Gene laughed softly and caught Dee’s narrowed gaze. “I’m not laughing at you, just the memory. You were one sullen kid when your dad brought you to see me for the trial, but after the first hour your attitude dramatically changed. Even today Felix will remark on that and how grateful he is to me…well, the company.” Gene dropped her gaze as her cheeks flamed.
“I’m glad, on so many levels, Gene, which is why I’m going to fight tooth and nail beside you to keep the dream alive, for not just me, but for everyone else who loves to work for Desrosiers,” She smiled, and Gene caught it as she lifted her head. “Even you.”
Gene returned the smile, “Even me.” Quietly repeating the words, for all that was happening around her this was like a soothing balm over her fears. “That’s the best news I’ve had for a long time. Thank you, Dee.” The younger woman grinned, her eyes sparkled, and Gene’s heart flipped. Clearing her throat that was as dry as grit, she was about to say more when Quinn came back.
