Glass Ceilings

by Alicia Hope

  Verity’s complexion darkened. ‘And Kerry’s busily discussing all this behind my back. Seems there’s a lot more knife activity going on back there than I’d realised.’ She gave a tight smile and rubbed a hand over her eyes before grumbling, ‘I knew she’d jump to some stupid conclusion after seeing us dining together.’ Her lip curled. ‘So much for equality in the twentieth century. A female executive still can’t have a meal with a male colleague without everyone assuming they’re an item. I bet Clyde had many a dinner meeting with Royce, but did that create a flurry of gossip? Of course not,’ and she gave a disdainful shrug, ‘why would it?’

  She abruptly jumped to her feet again and paced over to the window. She stood there breathing deeply for a while before saying in a calmer voice, ‘Well, Kerry’s jumped to the wrong conclusion about me and Royce, so she might be wrong about the other piece of news as well. I think I’ll give Royce the benefit of the doubt ... for now.’ She turned to fix a warm gaze on her friend. ‘Claire, you’ve been a big help, as always. Now, I have a lot to do, and it won’t get done if I waste time fretting over idle gossip, small-minded people and disloyal schemers. And I won’t let trivialities stop me from doing my job.’

  Claire was pleased to see a determined look about Verity’s features again. She smiled broadly. ‘You astonish me sometimes, you know that? One minute you’re in dire need of a friendly ear, the next you’re ready to take on the world again. You’re a true CEO, through and through!’ She got to her feet and gave Verity’s arm a squeeze, saying with a smile, ‘I’m always around when you need a sounding board,’ before slipping out.

  Verity went over to sit down at her desk again. She eyed her overflowing in-tray, and began working her way through it.

  But her peace was short-lived.

  Kerry’s head jerked up as John Reardon burst into the outer office, shouting to no-one in particular, ‘IS SHE IN THERE?’ He didn’t wait for a response before barging into Verity’s office.

  Kerry’s eyes glittered. She remained calmly in her seat, pulled an emery board from her desk drawer, and began nonchalantly filing her nails.

  Verity sat back with a start at the sight of a red-faced, obviously furious John Reardon bursting through her door and advancing towards her desk. ‘John? I wasn’t expecting you—’

  ‘Well you should’ve been.’ Reardon charged up to slap both hands on her desk. ‘How dare you? Just who the hell do you think you are?’ He leaned menacingly towards her and his face was so close she could smell the dregs of last night’s wine on his breath.

  Verity’s heart sank. She tried to maintain her composure, and hoped she was at least outwardly cool. She put some distance between them by leaning back in her chair a little—the man positively stank of stale wine. ‘I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re speaking to me, John,’ she said coldly. ‘And just what are you talking about?’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about, you half-smart little—’ He took a ragged breath. ‘When were you planning to give me my marching orders? Or are you still trying to find the guts to do it?’

  Her worst fears were confirmed. Verity pinched her lips together and frowned. How did Reardon find out? Surely not from Connell? Although she wouldn’t put it past him to make the situation more difficult for her, what else would Connell have to gain from informing Reardon of her intentions, when he so obviously wanted to stay clear of the flak?

  Reardon gave what sounded like a growl and pounded Verity’s desk with his fist, shouting, ‘WELL? What have you got to say for yourself? Or are you too scared to talk man-to-man? Hang on, who am I kidding? I mean, man-to-mouse.’ He leaned towards her and sneered. Verity felt nausea seeping into her stomach, but gathered herself and rose calmly to her feet.

  She stared eye-to-eye with her angry assailant. ‘John, I will not be spoken to like this. Calm yourself or I’ll have you removed from this office.’ He glared at her menacingly but didn’t speak, so she indicated a chair in front of her desk. ‘Sit down and let’s talk about it.’

  Reardon threw himself into the chair.

  Verity took her time resuming her seat, saying, ‘Now, I don’t know what you’ve heard—’

  But again, he cut her short. ‘Yeah, I bet you’re wondering how I found out about this little plan of yours.’ He stared at her with a jubilant look in his bloodshot eyes, before leaning his irate, pinched face over her desk again and spitting, ‘When are you going to realise you have no friends here? Did you delude yourself that once in the crystal tower you’d have all the clout AND the love and loyalty of all and sundry? Well, let me shatter those illusions for you. You need a few home truths, Miss Parker—’ He broke off, aware Verity wasn’t looking at him anymore.

  Her shocked eyes were staring past him towards the doorway. When he glanced over his shoulder, Reardon saw Microbelle’s representative, Brenda Sharpe, standing there, and she wasn’t alone. A group of people was standing behind her, peering inquisitively over her shoulders. Some held cameras and others had note pads in their hands. Journalists! They all appeared very interested in what was going on in Verity’s office, with only a few having the grace to look awkward.

  Verity groaned inwardly. Oh, great, the media. What are they doing here?

  Reardon turned to fix accusing eyes on her again. Barely managing to keep his voice low, he snarled, ‘Looks like your champion has saved you once more. But don’t think this is over, because it’s not. Not by a long shot. You’re looking down the barrel of some big trouble, lady.’ With a menacing slap on her desk and a final glare in her direction, he rose and stalked out.

  Verity winced when Reardon pushed roughly through the group gathered in her doorway. They watched him go and then turned their curious eyes back onto her.

  Scarcely recovered from stumbling into world war three, Brenda ushered the entourage into the outer office. By the time she’d returned, Verity had managed to regain her equilibrium.

  Brenda came over to lean both arms on the back of the chair Reardon had so abruptly vacated. She gave Verity a hard look, before bursting out with, ‘That was great. Not the best way to open a PR session.’

  Trying her best to ignore the sarcasm, Verity replied, ‘PR session? I wasn’t expecting one ... or that confrontation with John.’

  ‘Not that it matters now, but this visit was all teed up with your PA. We sent her the full itinerary over a week ago. So you should’ve been prepared. Quite obviously, you were not.’

  You can say that again, Verity moaned to herself. ‘You mean Kerry’s known about your visit for over a week? She didn’t note it in my schedule, or mention it....’ Her eyes quickly searched her in-tray’s contents. A new document close to the top caught her attention, and she pulled it from the pile.

  Brenda’s keen eyes flicked over it and she exhaled with a grunt. ‘Yep, there it is. Well, it looks as though you can’t blame your PA for this blunder. Our itinerary was right under your nose all the time. It might pay to check your in-tray and talk to your secretary more often in future.’ Her words held a cutting edge. ‘By the way, you do know how big a blunder this has been, don’t you?’

  Verity scanned the page in her hand and once again, her heart sank. The journalists, now waiting impatiently in the outer office, were here to interview her for a front page article on RCL’s feted new female CEO.

  ‘Oh hell, what an auspicious start.’ She looked appealingly at Brenda. ‘How much did they hear?’

  ‘Not the whole conversation, thankfully, but enough to give them a less than perfect impression of our new CEO.’

  ‘What can we do to save face?’

  ‘Well, this will need some serious and swift damage repair.’ Brenda sat in the chair and regarded Verity consideringly. ‘Right, we’ll begin with....’

  Verity was relieved the recriminations were over, at least for the time being. Now they could implement strategies to mend her reputation, and RCL’s. ‘Miss Sharpe’ was living up to her name, but Verity’s
mind was in turmoil.

  First John Reardon finds out about something meant to be hush-hush, which is bad enough, but then, without warning, Brenda arrives with a bunch of journos, to witness the subject of their front page article in full-blown confrontation with a furious senior manager.

  What’s going on here?

  Verity was certain the itinerary hadn’t been in her tray earlier. She took care to sort through its contents regularly, knowing important papers could easily get buried and forgotten, only to rise again later with guns blazing.

  Kerry must’ve slipped it in there just a short while ago, some time when I was away from my desk for a few minutes. But why would she be so sneaky about it? And why hadn’t she warned me when the visitors arrived, instead of letting the group barge into the office while Reardon was mouthing off? She could’ve at least diverted them, and saved all this additional embarrassment.

  All these questions and more were spinning around Verity’s head, but she had to put them aside so she could concentrate on the immediate task—improving her tarnished reputation with the journalists, and with her sponsor.

  As Brenda watched Verity swiftly putting their damage repair strategies into action, she thought about the snatches she’d overheard of the super-heated conversation between her protégé and Reardon. She suspected something untoward was going on, and that Verity was being tested. Brenda had known this would happen, but it had come sooner than she’d expected. The timing didn’t matter though; what was important was how Verity managed the situation.

  Brenda reminded herself of the qualities she’d admired in her younger counterpart—the professionalism, intelligence, enthusiasm and natural authority—which had led her to back Verity’s application for the CEO position.

  So if I’m right, she mused, and I usually am, she should have what it takes to win the battles I know she’s going to face.

  But if I’m wrong....

  Chapter Eleven

  Royce was feeling the after-effects of his quick turn-around trip. Exhaustion was dulling his thoughts and shortening his fuse. He barked an impatient reproof at the driver when the shuttle was a few minutes late collecting him from the airport, and fumed with impatience at the congested inner-city traffic. When they were finally on the highway heading towards RCL, he rolled down his window to let in some fresh air. The wind felt good against his face, and he rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. He needed a shave. It would have been better to go home first, have a shower and maybe catch up on some sleep, but his impatience wouldn’t allow him the luxury.

  He felt an itch to get to RCL, to see how the land lay.

  He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. What would Verity’s reaction be to his proposal? Would she give it proper consideration? Or, with the way the grapevine was thriving, had she already heard about his attempt to go over her head for approval?

  The shuttle lumbered up the hill and along the access road. Royce was the last passenger to alight, and when they got to the refinery, the driver pulled over near the plant protection booth. When the door opened with a bang, Royce jerked awake. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He grunted, blinked and frowned at the driver, who eyed him smugly.

  Royce shook his head to clear it and rubbed his stiff neck. He rose and gave the driver a curt nod on his way out the door. As he passed the booth, he saluted the plant protection officers inside, and then strode impatiently through the gates towards facility one-forty-one. His pace didn’t slow as he made his way through the heavy glass doors, and up the stairs to the CEO’s office suite, where he burst in on a startled Kerry.

  ‘Royce! You’re back early. How was—’

  ‘Is Verity in?’ he said sharply, in no mood for small talk.

  ‘Not at the moment, but she won’t be away long.’ Kerry looked at him from under her lashes, pondering on what might have brought him home so soon.

  Royce exhaled impatiently and spun around. He eyed the visitor’s chairs but chose to stand in the doorway and stare at the atrium, thinking, I’ve already spent too long sitting on my—

  ‘I must say, it’s good to have you back, Royce,’ Kerry announced. ‘I’m sure Verity will be relieved ... er ... pleased to see you.’ She cast a sweet, innocent look his way.

  He glanced at her sideways, his shrewd eyes dark slits in his face. ‘What do you mean, relieved?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t mean relieved, really, just that she could use some help at the moment.’ She gave him another innocuous look.

  ‘Help with what? And don’t beat about the bush.’

  Kerry swallowed a smirk at Royce’s impatience. ‘Well, at the risk of sounding disloyal, there’ve been a few problems while you were away and ... ahem ... some weren’t handled all that great....’

  By the time Verity returned to the office, Kerry had given Royce a run-down of the noteworthy events during his absence. Verity stopped abruptly when she saw Royce standing in the outer office, talking quietly with her PA.

  When he caught sight of her, Royce enquired quickly, ‘Do you have a moment, Verity?’

  ‘Back already from the US, Royce? I thought you’d be there for a few more days,’ she said, glancing down at her watch. ‘Yes, I have some time before my next appointment.’ Verity was careful to maintain a nonchalant air as she led him into her office, making a point of closing the connecting door behind them.

  Kerry stared thoughtfully at the closed door and grinned with delicious spite. No doubt Verity would be starting to feel paranoid, with so many gunning for her....

  In the CEO’s office, Royce thrust a bound document at Verity, before pulling a chair closer to her desk. He sat down and watched for her reaction. When she read the title on the cover, ‘Preliminary Report on Bayer Process Extension’, she leaned back to study him through narrowed eyes.

  ‘So, you’ve decided to bring me in on this now?’

  Royce’s mouth tightened at the sharp edge in her voice. It was obvious the grapevine had indeed sowed more of its bitter seeds. But he pressed on. ‘I’d like to give you a quick run-down, if you have time?’

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  As Royce outlined his proposal, Verity regarded him levelly without speaking. Only when he’d run through the report’s recommendations did she ask him to expand upon the reasonings, and the assumptions drawn. She surprised him with her obvious comprehension of the principals, and he began to regret not including her earlier.

  Maybe Guy’s right about her, whispered his pesky inner voice.

  But her next words brought him back to earth. ‘This is all very interesting, Royce, but an expansion proposal like this involves a certain amount of risk. A gamble I’m not sure we’d be prepared to take in the current economic climate.’

  Although she was only expressing the same concerns Guy had with the proposal, Royce felt a rising irritation. Was she about to prove his first instincts right and be an obstacle instead of a proponent for the project? Was he justified in trying to avoid involving her?

  He answered brusquely, ‘Of course, every innovation carries risk. That’s part of what makes it innovative.’

  It was difficult keeping his frustration and impatience in check. He swore under his breath, angry with himself for not taking the time to rest and prepare for this discussion before coming in. But it was too late now.

  Verity said thoughtfully, ‘To do something risky simply because it’s innovative is foolish—’

  It was too much. Royce rose swiftly to his feet. ‘Do you think I’m doing all this just because I can? That I’d go to all this time and trouble researching a project I didn’t think would work, or, worse still, would put the whole plant at risk? If you do, then you’re wrong, dead wrong. I’m pushing this because I know it’ll work. It will bring higher production and greater rewards, not to mention international recognition for RCL as a leader in this new technology. As CEO, I would’ve thought you’d have an interest in that?’

  His tone stung her to retort sharply, ‘If I could fin
ish what I was saying?’ She raised her eyebrows and indicated his chair.

  Royce’s countenance darkened but he resumed his seat and she started over.

  ‘To do something risky just because it’s innovative is foolish.’ She took a quick breath and carried on smoothly, before he could erupt again, ‘But to not do something simply because it’s innovative is more foolhardy still. It shows a lack of insight and forward thinking, which is detrimental to business growth. We can’t afford to regard progress as the foe of enterprise.’

  She sat back and considered him for a moment. ‘I need time to think about this, Royce. I’ll have an answer for you at the executive committee meeting.’

  Royce exhaled without realising he’d been holding his breath. She’d given him a good hearing despite his somewhat overbearing approach, and he grudgingly admitted a growing respect for his new boss.

  She’s got more poise and guts than I gave her credit for.

  She was looking questioningly at him. Obviously, she intended her last statement to draw their discussion to a close.

  He nodded and got to his feet. ‘Before I go, do you need some help with the problems that came up while I was away?’ It sounded condescending even to his own ears, and he noticed Verity bristle.

  ‘And what problems would they be?’ Her voice was deceptively calm.

  ‘You know, John Reardon, among others.’ He intended the flippant response to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect of irking her all the more. Royce was beginning to wish he hadn’t started down this path.