Picturing the local TMZ wannabe siccing their fangs into the CFO’s ankle, she stood and held out her hand. “As one professional to another, thank you for sharing your information.”
If Pedersen caught the sarcasm, his face didn’t show it. But the heightened moisture level in his brief handshake left condensation on her palm.
Eleven
Pedersen buzzed his intercom, and Dona opened the door for Giulia.
“I’ll be unavailable until after my three o’clock finishes,” Pedersen said.
Dona nodded and with an equally expressionless face indicated the way back to the main lobby.
“May I help you?” the receptionist said. “Oh. Is your appointment finished? Thank you for visiting Dahlia.”
Giulia was relieved to bring up a genuine smile. “My first one is, but I have another one with Konani Hyde at three fifteen.”
The manicured eyebrows rose a fraction. “Let me see if she’s available.”
After a second discreet phone call, the receptionist pointed to the right-hand hallway. “Down this way. It’s the last door on the right, just past the kitchen.”
The closed doors of the first three offices on either side of the hall revealed nothing through their inset glass. Noise from an open office on her left spilled out into the hall long before she reached it.
Slowing her pace, she allowed herself a lengthy glance into an open workspace the size of three offices grouped together. Four computers and two wide format printers ringed the perimeter, but two long Formica-topped tables hogged most of the space. Bolts of cloth and paper dress patterns covered them. Mannequins and old-school dress forms huddled at one end next to four sewing machines. A radio balanced on a windowsill. Country-western hits competed with the printers, the sewing machines, and five people talking with or cussing at scissors, material, or screens.
A voice hailed her as she reached the kitchen archway.
“Are you Ms. Driscoll? Come on in. I’m Konani Hyde. The air conditioning in my office is on the fritz, so I’m camped in here for the duration. Don’t you miss offices where windows actually opened? God, I could kill for fresh air, especially when the lilacs out there bloom in the spring and the leaves turn in the fall. Fall’s my favorite season, especially since those are my best colors. Want some iced coffee?”
“Thank you, yes.”
“Old school manners. Nobody says that phrase properly anymore. I bet you had a drill-sergeant grandmother like I did. Decaf? Me too. Pick a flavor.”
Konani moved as rapidly as she talked. As the Keurig prepared two cups of Irish Crème decaf, she filled plastic cups with ice from the full-sized refrigerator/freezer and set out a carton of half and half.
“Stevia okay for you? I love the stuff, plus it’s Fair Trade. All our supplies are Fair Trade, including our materials.” She plucked at her shirred floral top. “This was made in Hawaii by my very own distant relatives.” She filled Giulia’s cup with coffee and cold water and passed it over.
They sat at a turned wood bistro table. Konani’s ample rear overflowed the chair, which had apparently been chosen for its charm rather than its fitness for adult butts.
“I’m detoxing, but I can’t give up my coffee.” She pointed to said butt. “You don’t want to know how long it took me to convince the stick women who design our clothes to create a line for women with real figures.” She sipped through the ice. “I miss sugar, but my kids ruined my body. At least I blame them for it, especially when they’re giving me the preteen Eyeroll of Death. How’s your coffee?”
Giulia sipped and said it was fine. She used the moment to bring out her pad and pen and ask the same leading question.
“Our infrastructure? Really? Everything we’re required to make available to the public is out there.”
Dona came into the kitchen and went straight to the Keurig. When she started the brew cycle, she said over her shoulder, “Did she make the joke?”
“No. Can you believe it?”
Giulia put on Polite Smile Number Two. “The joke?”
“Jekyll and Hyde. I’ve only heard that line about ten thousand times.” She turned her face toward Dona. “I’m not surprised she didn’t because she’s like Miss Manners in person. I wish I could convince her to take my brats for a week and beat politeness into them.”
Lest Konani could read upside down, Giulia did not write out her annoyance at being discussed as though she wasn’t in the same room with these women. She settled for joining the conversation. “Hyde is an unusual name these days.”
“See? Is that the epitome of courteous conversation or what?”
Dona added milk and real sugar to two coffees. “You should’ve listened to your mother.”
“I know, I know, but I was really full of myself when I snagged my hot babe.” To Giulia again: “Elaine’s mom had just cherry-picked me out of the secretarial gulag to be her personal assistant. This nobody army brat with no roots was important for the first time in my life. I refused to take my husband’s nice, ordinary last name.”
The middle finger of the hand holding her coffee cup raised itself toward Dona’s exiting back. Her voice dropped. “She talks like she’s far above the rest of us because she’s Pedersen’s guard dog.” She leaned across the tiny table and lowered her voice further. “It kills her that she’s not even the power behind Pedersen’s throne. She’s number four here behind Pedersen, Sandra, and me.”
“I thought Elaine Patrick—”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant. Elaine on top of the pyramid standing on our shoulders.” A sigh. “Speaking of stick women, if only I had her figure.”
What Giulia wrote now had more to do with Konani’s patently false bonhomie than with Dahlia’s internal structure. She tilted the legal pad a fraction closer to herself as she finished her current note with, I wonder why I used to think the convent was the only morass of power plays and petty backbiting.
“Belinda—Elaine’s mom—was super to me. We worked together for three years. I never pushed her buttons because Mama Hyde didn’t raise dummies.”
“Elaine’s mother was a shrewd business owner?”
“Her picture should be in the dictionary next to the word. Since someone sent you here to dig for dirt, you should know all about her slash and burn resurrection of Grandma and Grandpa’s little dress shops.”
Giulia drank more of the too-thin, too-sweet iced coffee. “I understood she and her husband owned the business jointly.”
Konani crunched an ice cube. “You don’t look the type to watch horror movies, but there’s one from the eighties called Basket Case. This guy carries his surgically separated twin around in a basket. It’s a hoot. The twin in the basket couldn’t do much unless the full-sized twin let him. That’s how important the Chinless Wonder was to Belinda’s business plan. He golfed with dealers and drank with suppliers. Belinda brought the money and the balls.”
“I see.”
Another ice cube disintegrated under her teeth. “Seriously, can I pay you to come out to my place and teach my kids? You’ve got this conversation stuff down cold.” She pointed a sky-blue fingernail at Giulia. “Joke. Nobody tells my kids what to do but me. And my hot babe, of course.” Her head came closer to Giulia and her voice dropped again. “This will sound callous, but I’m glad the thieving masked killers got to Belinda before I had my own kids.”
“Why?” Giulia stifled the need to push back from the table. Konani’s bubble of personal space wasn’t anywhere near big enough for Giulia.
“Because I’m not raising my daughter to be a fantasy-prone little princess. Elaine’s going to end up like Howard Hughes: locked in her castle, peeing in bottles, and saving her toenail clippings.” She circled a finger in the air next to her temple.
A young woman and younger man from the atelier entered the kitchen, arguing in an authoritative manner about rolled he
ms versus fused. Giulia and Konani finished their decaf while the designers popped open cans of Diet Pepsi and returned to the studio, debating and drinking.
Konani made a face at her coffee. “These hipster sugar substitutes may be good for the hips, but they don’t have the heft of the real stuff.”
“The small perks here at Dahlia appear to represent a management that wants to keep its employees happy,” Giulia said.
“Yeah, we’re all creative types except our number one number cruncher. We live on caffeine and junk food when we’re on deadline.” She pushed her empty cup as far across the miniature surface as possible. “I’ll say one thing for Elaine, she doesn’t nickel and dime us while she lives in luxury. Have you seen her house? All it needs is the Knights of the Round Table.” She patted her butt. “I live in a big old three-story monstrosity halfway to Mt. Lebanon. Keeps me active, otherwise I’d be able to carry groceries home on these cheeks. Are you one of those people who can eat anything and stay thin? No, don’t tell me. I’d get jealous. Elaine’s aunt is like that. Then again, her aunt probably keeps skinny worrying about how much of their allowance her husband loses on the horses every month.”
“Allowances to relatives and a well-stocked refrigerator are all right for the bottom line?”
“If she wants to blow her money on useless relatives, that’s her business. Dahlia has always given its designers bonuses when one of their dresses makes it to a magazine cover. Well-fed artists and healthy competition make for healthier profits.”
“Then Dahlia is generating a profit?”
“You bet. Your client got hold of some outdated figures if they think we’re easy pickings for a hostile takeover. We don’t even need a white knight, if you know the term?”
Giulia donned her best imitation of a sparrow’s bright interest in a tasty looking grass seed. “Outdated?”
“It’s the aunt and uncle, isn’t it? You can tell me. We’ve known they were social climbing parasites since the first Christmas after the murders.” She checked the screen on her phone. “It’s my turn to pick up the kids from soccer camp. Walk out to my car with me.”
The hall easily accommodated two people side by side. Konani told Giulia about her twelve-year-old son’s skills as a goalkeeper and her ten-year-old daughter’s ability to nutmeg defenders at will.
“Her nickname on the pitch is Meg. The boys hate it. I made her a charm bracelet with it. I have my own jewelry storefront on Etsy, but I’m sure you know that. You look like a rose gold with lapis lazuli. My daughter wants a ‘Meg’ tattoo. Over my dead body, I told her.”
As they crossed the parking lot, she slipped her arm through Giulia’s. “Look, I know you can’t tell me who hired you because of client privilege and all that.” She waved at Dona and another woman smoking at one of the picnic tables. “We’ll both pretend you’re not mining us for a buyout by some super-rich player to be named later. Elaine can buy out pretty much any company if she wants to and not have to live on ramen for a single meal. Your clients are wasting their money.”
“Thank you for the coffee.”
Konani’s laugh echoed across two parking lots. “I’m serious. You should open up a finishing school, like they used to have in the fifties and sixties.” She released Giulia’s arm and looked her up and down, tapping a finger against her pointed chin. “Definitely stick to etiquette advice and not how to dress, because you really aren’t qualified for it.” The wide smile reappeared. “I’ve subbed my own designs to that department’s Powers That Be. I really hope they get accepted, because college isn’t cheap. Have a nice day.”
She bounced into her Mazda crossover and drove away. Giulia stared after her, wondering if she wore her hair high and puffy to hide the demon horns.
Twelve
“Psst. Ms. Driscoll. Over here.”
Dona beckoned Giulia to the table where she and another woman were sitting.
“She got you with one of her zingers, didn’t she? She taps that claw against her chin every time.”
The other woman blew a smoke ring. “I’m head of design. One day I wore a lime green sundress and Konani told me it made me look like I was about to hurl.” Another drag; another ring. “I’d love to deep-six her designs out of spite, but she’s good. We’ll sell a few thousand of each, and we’ll all get Christmas bonuses. Cigs cost too much nowadays.”
Dona said, “When my hair went all silver, she told me in that sugary voice how nice it was to see a woman not afraid to show her true age.” The cigarette got stubbed out with extra vehemence. “I recommended she try Boudreau’s Butt Paste for her neck pimples.”
The head of design snorted. “I’m Shandeen, by the way. You set up a meeting with my boss tomorrow morning. Like my hair?” She ran her hands through her waist-length cherry red waves.
“It’s lovely. Is it your own color pattern?” Giulia remained standing as neither woman had yet invited her to sit with them.
“See, Dona? That’s a sincere compliment. Yes, I pick the main color and choose highlights to either blend or contrast. This time I wanted a summer evening, and I streaked it with violet and sapphire.”
“It took Konani a whole day to come up with a sweet passive-aggressive insult.” Dona checked her phone. “Cancer break over.”
Shandeen took a last, long drag and extinguished her cigarette. “What did she say to you?”
Giulia repeated the judgmental clothing advice. Both women said, “Ouch.”
“Let it roll off your back,” Dona said. “Being targeted by Konani is a rite of passage at Dahlia.”
They walked with Giulia to the Nunmobile. Shandeen ostentatiously pointed out a row of peonies in full bloom for Giulia to admire.
“Don’t believe a thing either of them said about Elaine.” With equally large gestures, Dona invited Giulia to smell a bush covered with small, old-fashioned pink roses. “Elaine is too sweet and their guts curdle every time they visit her.”
“When Elaine got married three years ago, she inaugurated a Dickens Christmas party every year at her house. The difference between Elaine and the other three is Elaine treats us like we’re all of equal importance to the company. How many super-rich business owners do that?” Shandeen gave Giulia an elaborate wink. “Admire the flowers a little more, okay?”
Dona said, “The other three thought for sure she had one foot in a padded room ever since her parents died. Pedersen convinced her aunt and uncle to funnel him the shrink reports when she was nine.”
“Sechrest, my boss, used to offer the aunt first pick of new designs so she could get all the dirt on the heiress.” Shandeen lit another cigarette. “She’d deliver them to the castle in person, stay two or three hours, then call in Pedersen and Konani for a conference.”
“We’d gather at Shandeen’s desk and listen in on her intercom. The other admins rigged it. You think Dona and I are snarky? We’re amateurs compared to the Big Three.” She held out her hand to Dona. “Rescue me, please.”
Dona passed her the cigarette. “I’ve sat in on all Elaine’s Skype conferences. You should’ve seen the faces on those three when Elaine pulled up a gigantic spreadsheet covering the past five years of the business and gave orders for a handful of operating changes.”
The cigarette changed hands again. “Open your car door and start getting in. It’ll give us another minute. Everything Elaine had us change improved the business. Those three bitched about it for weeks, but the next stockholder meeting was a smash hit.”
Dona leaned through Giulia’s window. “Elaine knows her stuff. The big three are good, but they got too comfortable with being in charge. You know about Pedersen’s two ex-wives, right? He’s so broke he bummed lunch money off me twice last week. You’d think a CFO could manage his personal finances better.”
Shandeen crushed the cigarette beneath one strappy pink sandal. “Konani’s a greedy little beast. She plays at goi
ng back to a simpler era in her antique house—bought in imitation of Elaine’s, you know—but she’s like that old Mr. Magoo Christmas movie, where he plays Scrooge. She’d like nothing better than to roll around in piles of money.”
Dona took Shandeen’s place. “They both spend a little too much time at the casinos. Pedersen more than Konani. If he’d stop chasing gold-diggers, he might not have to beg his long-suffering admin for the price of a Big Mac.”
Giulia stopped hiding her suspicions. “I appreciate this revealing gossip, but why do you trust me? Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your jobs?”
Shandeen mimed patting Giulia on the head. “Every computer in this place pulled up your website a millisecond after you made the appointments.”
“Pedersen called his divorce lawyer,” Dona said, “then Konani stomped past me like I wasn’t there and cut him off mid-call. Sechrest made it a threesome. When they split up, Konani’s seasick-green tinge didn’t blend with her orange dress at all.”
They grinned in tandem.
“Start your car, okay?” Shandeen said. “We’re not afraid to talk to you because we’re two of the four employees who’ve been here since Elaine’s parents took over. Elaine’s grandparents were old school: they gave a crap about their employees. Elaine’s parents were the opposite. No one was safe. My head was on the block once, but I worked up a spreadsheet showing the profit I generated was triple my salary and the length of the learning curve for the cheap college grad they wanted to dump me for.”
Dona leaned into the window. “My longevity is simpler: I know too much about my boss. Plus I’m awesome at my job.”
Shandeen leaned next to her. “Everyone, including us, thinks you’re here to cut dead weight. Don’t try to convince us otherwise. The Holy Trinity has already knifed each other in the back. You can thank Belinda and Arthur Davenport for making your job easier.”
The Clock Strikes Nun Page 6
