Chapter 25
Don watched helplessly as his replacement slipped from his grasp. He sat down and moped. His family was twisted, and he didn’t know how to fix them. He let his mind settle down by concentrating on the South African air blowing across the Atlantic Ocean, carrying the allure of his future. The tug was strong, and it was getting stronger with each breath. Usually, this was the point when Don had to set his desires aside and put the family first. He’d sacrificed countless times before, believing with each episode in his family’s drama that this would be the last time he’d be required to rescue a brood bent on dwelling in turmoil. He reflected on so many different events over the years. After a while, he was overwhelmed. It was too much, and he knew it.
Don got up and went to see Madeline. He found his mother in her office, where she was meeting with a client. Not wanting to interrupt, he stopped in the doorway, intending to leave, but she beckoned for him to come in. He entered as she continued the conversation.
“Don, you remember Mr. Mullins from Faith Keepers International?”
“Of course.” Don shook the client’s hand. “It’s good to see you.”
The greetings concluded, and Don took a seat at the conference table across from Mr. Mullins. Madeline approached the table and then stood there with her arms folded. Her reading glasses rested on the bridge of her nose.
“How many times do you think we’re going to give you the new client discount?” she asked.
Mr. Mullins replied, “Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not asking for a special discount.”
Madeline pressed her tightly closed fists against the table. “Then what are you asking for, because that’s what it sounds like to me?”
Don squirmed. He’d seen his mother in action on numerous occasions when she felt a client was trying to take advantage of DMI’s generosity. Mr. Mullins didn’t have a chance. DMI was her baby, and she protected the company’s integrity and reputation as only a lioness could. Don was silent, realizing she didn’t need or want his help. She could handle this lone chief financial officer from Faith Keepers on her own. Don relaxed in his chair and watched the fireworks.
Madeline continued lashing out at Mr. Mullins. “What do you think DMI is? A charity—”
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Mullins interrupted.
Madeline ignored him and went on. “We provide leadership and financial management training to churches and other religious entities.” Madeline’s voice was crisp and somewhat controlled, but her words were like darts thrown at a dartboard. “That doesn’t mean we’re offering handouts.”
“Please don’t misunderstand,” Mr. Mullins said. “I’m asking for a discount in good faith in exchange for a significant chunk of additional work in the neighborhood of three hundred and twenty-five thousand, if we include all our satellite locations. The discount is merely a way for us to share the risk.”
“What risk?” Don asked.
Mr. Mullins gulped. “We’ve been very pleased with DMI’s services, but the issue your company has faced over the past twelve months gives you an air of instability.”
Madeline scooted close to the table. “Instability . . .? Are you crazy? We have stabilized our operation, and we’re moving forward with expansion plans.”
Don wasn’t aware of any expansion projects, but far be it for him to interrupt. He was trying to loosen the DMI knot around his neck, not tighten it by getting too deeply involved in matters that were already being handled by a top executive. He was perfectly fine with being quiet and letting Madeline handle the mess. He was tired.
“Perhaps I misunderstood the financial reports we received on DMI,” Mr. Mullins said.
“There is no misunderstanding,” Madeline replied. “We went through a structural change in our senior management last year. As you know, that’s when Don was appointed CEO.”
The client nodded in affirmation.
Madeline pushed slightly away from the table. “Leading up to that change, we are all well aware of the problems DMI encountered. That’s the truth.” She threw her hands up. “I’m not sugarcoating our temporary corporate setback. Not only do we teach full transparency, but it is also a presiding core principle here at DMI that we actually put into practice.”
Don knew she was referring to Joel’s stint as CEO and his botches. Hearing the client express concern about this made Don wonder how Madeline could possibly support Joel in his CEO run. He had too much baggage, and customers had too little forgiveness which was a recipe for Joel’s failure.
Madeline continued. “We’re on track now and in the service of helping troubled groups with their financial challenges. If you want our help, we would love to work with you. If not, I challenge you to find a better service provider. Either way, what we’re not going to do is let you strong-arm us into a one-sided deal because you think we’re desperate. You can kindly walk out of here if that’s your strategy.”
Mr. Mullins seemed to dwell on Madeline’s statement before responding. “Thank you for the honesty. I believe we can work with you.”
“Wise decision, because if you chose otherwise, it would have been your loss.” Madeline slid a pen and a contract to Mr. Mullins.
Don didn’t have to wonder if it was a Montblanc. He knew it was because that was what Madeline preferred. Whatever Madeline preferred, she generally got, which would certainly have been detrimental to Abigail’s bid for the CEO post. His anxiety slowly began rising as he contemplated Abigail’s withdrawal from the shortlist of CEO candidates. Don wasn’t thrilled that he had to tell his mother about Abigail’s decision. He cringed as he anticipated Madeline’s reaction. She’d gladly accept an uncontested confirmation for Joel. Don’s heart sank, until he realized it was better not to care about DMI once he got on a plane heading out of Detroit. That day was coming sooner than anyone at DMI dared to believe.
Mr. Mullins interrupted Don’s musing. “Don, Faith Keepers International and I look forward to doing business with you.”
“Likewise. I’m sure you’ll continue to be pleased with our services.”
Don shook the client’s hand again, and then Madeline escorted Mr. Mullins from her office to the assistant’s desk. She closed the door upon reentering her office.
“What a jackass,” Madeline said.
“Mother! Why would you say that about a client?”
“Well, he is one.” She returned to the conference table. “I don’t appreciate clients who think they can take advantage of us because we suffered a few losing quarters. That’s it, only a few quarters.”
“It’s business, Mother. Everyone looks for a deal.”
“Humph. It’s not becoming for a church leader. He should be straightforward and honorable in his negotiations. I deal with snakes all day, every day. I don’t need to face them from the church.”
Don considered telling Madeline that not every person working with a church knew the Lord and had committed to living by God’s guidelines. He could have shared his insight with her, but he didn’t want to get her riled up in a debate over religion. He’d let her think as she wanted. God would correct her if and when He chose. Instead, Don focused on a topic that was much more pressing.
“I had a talk with Abigail about an hour ago.” Don paused.
When the silence persisted, Madeline said, “And . . . ?”
“And she wants out of the CEO pool of candidates. I desperately tried to convince her not to pull out, but her mind is set. She’s out of here.”
“I see. Well, that leaves Joel,” Madeline said with a wide grin. “No problem. I can call a board meeting by Friday and have Joel in the office next week.”
“Not so fast, Mother,” Don said, slowly raising his hand. “Tamara is the reason she’s running scared. Apparently, Tamara is so upset about not being considered for the post that she confronted Abigail.”
Madeline drew in a deep breath of air and released it very slowly. “I had no idea she was so upset.” Madeline fumbled with her pen, letting her gaze re
main low. “Actually, I thought she would come around to our way of thinking and would continue in her junior-level marketing position. It’s an ideal place for her to learn the business. In the meantime, I would personally mentor her. She’s a smart girl. In a few years, I’m sure she’d be ready for a manager’s position. That child of mine,” Madeline said punctuated with a heavy sigh. “Tamara could make executive vice president in no time if she’d put half as much effort into improving her skills as she puts into scheming about how to climb to the top.” Madeline sighed again. “Nothing is easy with my child.”
“What do you want to do? Abigail is out. As you saw with Mr. Mullins, clients are still edgy about our credibility and stability. If Joel is reinstated, you might lose customers, or you’ll have others, like Mr. Mullins, who’ll want a heavy discount in exchange for trusting us to do the right thing. If you ask me, we can’t afford to have Joel in charge.”
“Then you’ll have to stay longer, until I can figure this out with Tamara.”
“Oh no,” Don said, leaping to his feet. “I’m leaving.”
“When?”
“As soon as I get the green light from God, I’m out of here.”
Madeline giggled. “What are you waiting on, for Him to come down and discuss your travel plans over dinner?”
“Something like that.” Don wanted to make sure he wasn’t operating on emotions and fleeing because the Mitchells were draining. He definitely wanted out, but he refused to get ahead of God. Don would wait until his confirmation came in the form of a dream, peace in his spirit, or clarity in his prayers. He was open to however God wanted to reach him. Hopefully, it would be soon.
Madeline’s giggle turned into a full bout of laughter.
“Mother, what I said isn’t that funny.”
“It is for me. I have to laugh to keep from crying.”
Don understood. He’d felt that way on many occasions when dealing with his family. He was thrilled that another Mitchell was getting a taste of his plight.
Chapter 26
Tamara was bored with playing a game of cat and mouse with Joel. He’d leave, Zarah would call her, and Tamara would rush over to their house, hoping to complete a deal on the West Coast division before he returned home. She wasn’t able to count the number of near misses they’d had.
Fired up, Tamara popped out of the cab at the main entrance to Joel and Zarah’s house. This was it. “Can you pull to the end of the driveway and wait for me near the exit please?” The driver appeared reluctant to do so. “I’ll pay you the full fare. Just keep the motor running,” she said and hurled a wad of crumpled twenty-dollar bills at him.
The driver’s face lit up, punctuated with a smirk. “Where did you say you wanted me to wait?”
Tamara repeatedly pointed toward the end of the driveway. “Down there is fine. I should be out in thirty minutes.”
“No problem,” the driver said, straightening out the money. “Take your time. I’ll be right here.”
Tamara smirked too as she walked away. This was a reminder that everyone had a price. When it came to Zarah, the incentive to sell might have nothing to do with cash. That was understood, but regardless of race, gender, religious beliefs, or culture, every person valued something. For some, it was money; for others, love. In her worldly travels, Tamara had learned that in some cultures the gift of a goat represented the highest form of appreciation. She knocked on the front door, determined to wrap up this lengthy match play and get on with existing beyond the Mitchells’ territory. She giggled. There wasn’t a goat in the cab to offer Zarah, but Tamara had something better. She was certain of it.
The housekeeper answered. “Good day, Ms. Mitchell. Mrs. Zarah is expecting you.”
Tamara pushed past the housekeeper and hustled across the foyer. “She’s upstairs?”
“No, Ms. Mitchell. She’s in the library.”
Tamara wasn’t expecting that answer. Zarah was on strict orders to stay on bed rest until baby Mitchell was born. Tamara went into the library and found her friend sitting there, dressed in a deep royal blue sari trimmed in gold. “My goodness, you’re fully clothed. Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“Sure looks like you’re going somewhere. Aren’t you still on bed rest?”
“Yes, my doctor has asked me to stay calm. I have done so, but staying in the bed every day has become more than I can bear.”
Tamara understood and gave no admonishment. Besides, she didn’t have time to chastise Zarah. Minutes were streaking by. Tamara plopped into a chair and sat on the edge, eager to review the terms of her proposed deal and then duck out. “How long will Joel be gone?”
“Two to three hours.”
“Where did he go?”
“I’m not sure. I went for a nap earlier. When I woke, our housekeeper gave me his note.”
Tamara couldn’t care less about where Joel was and what he might be doing. Unlike Madeline, he hadn’t conned her into thinking he’d changed. It was a ridiculous notion given that snakes didn’t change. They just shed their skin, giving the illusion of change, which was precisely why Tamara had to act fast. Joel was fooling too many people too quickly. If she didn’t act this very moment, it might be too late. Despite her best mentoring efforts, Joel could swoop in, woo his wife, and entice her over to the dark side. That would push Zarah and the West Coast division too far out of Tamara’s reach. She couldn’t handle the idea of losing a friendship and a piece of the company simultaneously. Tamara’s stress was building. She couldn’t allow Joel to have this much control over her livelihood. She had to act fast.
“Zarah, I am begging you on our friendship. Please sell me the West Coast division. I have to get out of here. It’s my only chance to have a fresh start. If I didn’t have to ask, I wouldn’t.” Tamara had to use every tactic available. She could lie around, feeling poorly later. “But you’re the only person on earth who can help me. Please,” Tamara said, balling up both fists and tapping her thighs. “I can’t rely on anyone else to help me. You’re my very best friend, my only friend,” she wailed.
Somehow Tamara managed to squeeze out a few tears. It was literally just a few, but she magnified their effect by asking for a tissue. Zarah obliged, and Tamara wiped her eyes for an extended period, although not another drop fell after the first few tears.
“You must not get upset. Please, let me get you a cup of tea. It will help you feel better.”
“No thank you. All I need is the West Coast division, and I’ll get out of here and let you rest.”
“Is the division this important to you?”
“Yes,” Tamara bellowed. “I lost fifteen years with my father. When I was moving from place to place, running from my family, I didn’t have contact with my dad.” She dabbed the area below her eyes with the dry tissue. “He died without seeing me as a successful adult.” She dabbed again, as her eye had become slightly sore from continually rubbing. “The division gives me my one chance to honor my father and to make him proud. This is the most important gift anyone can ever give me.”
“I’m not sure my husband would agree with selling the division. He was very angry last year, when I considered selling.”
“You don’t have to worry. Remember that he’s changed since last year. He won’t mind if you help a friend. He appreciates loyalty. I do too. If you sell me the division, you can believe I’ll be indebted to you forever. I’ll return your kindness at the very first opportunity. I’ve told you before. You can count on me to always be here for you.” Tamara was exhausted. She’d expended enough emotional energy to win a sports championship. She sat quietly, having told Zarah every possible reason for saying yes. There was nothing left to add. Tamara had done all the convincing that she could. Her future now rested in Zarah’s hands.
“You have been a very good friend,” Zarah said. “I am in your debt as well. I will sell you the West Coast division.”
“Zarah, please help me. I need the division. I have only twenty milli
on, but you can have every penny. Please help me,” she pleaded.
“Did you hear me? I said yes. I will sell you the West Coast division.”
Tamara couldn’t move. Had she heard correctly? “What did you say?”
“The division is yours, my friend.”
Tamara slapped her open palms repeatedly against her face. She felt as if Zarah’s answer was dangling in midair. Tamara had to snatch the words and hide them in her soul for safekeeping. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am most serious.”
Tamara wanted to jump for joy, but she couldn’t get too excited. They’d gotten close to making a deal about a month ago. Before Zarah could sign the papers, she was admitted to the hospital with symptoms of a miscarriage. Tamara had her doubts but proceeded with as much hope as she could that the deal would actually happen.
“How soon can we get this done? Can we call your attorney now and get the papers going?” Tamara asked.
Zarah glanced at a small clock on the center shelf of one of the built-in bookcases. It was 4:15 p.m.
“It is close to three a.m. in the south of India. I will call my attorney later this evening, when it is morning for him.”
“What time?” Tamara asked, sitting on the very edge of her chair. If she scooted forward any farther, she’d fall on the floor.
“Nine thirty. That will be around eight in the morning. He’s usually in the office by then.”
Tamara wanted to leave nothing to chance. “I can give you a wake-up call.”
“That’s not necessary. I will be awake.”
Tamara reluctantly replied, “Okay, if you say so, but promise to call me after you’ve spoken to the attorney. I don’t care how late. Call me. I won’t sleep a wink until you call.” Tamara jumped up and squeezed Zarah’s hands so tightly, the blood rushed to her fingertips. Both of them smiled.
“I know the division is worth ten times what I can pay,” Tamara continued. “But I promise to pay you the rest in a few years. I can also sell my fifteen percent stock ownership in DMI. It’s got to be worth a couple hundred million. Don’t worry. I can get more money. Really, I can.”
Unforgiving Page 12
