by Debby Mayne
“That’s exactly who I’m talking about.”
“They might be late, but they do represent some of the best manufacturers in Korea. Be careful not to burn any bridges.”
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose to thwart a headache that threatened when things didn’t go according to plan. “Yeah, I know.”
Marianne dropped a file on his desk. “When you have a moment, I’d like for you to take a look at these numbers before they go to the accountant.” She started toward the door but stopped and turned around to face him. “Try not to get too worked up over the late order. Our customers will understand a slight delay.” She tilted her head. “Is there something else?”
Tom pushed aside a file and ran a hand through his hair. He paused for a second and then nodded. “Did you know that Forest Counts has a niece?” Marianne had worked in the industry twenty years and knew more about the people and personalities than he ever would. He relied on her to keep a finger on the pulse of industry gossip—who was up and coming, who was floundering, who was being hired or fired.
“No, but I’m not surprised. Most people his age have nieces and nephews.” Marianne tilted her head. “So tell me about her. What’s her name, and where did you meet her?” She gave him a mischievous smile. “And is she young and attractive?”
“Yes, very attractive. I ran into her and her uncle just outside the office.”
“And what did Mr. Counts have to say about this meeting?”
“Not much, but he was obviously not thrilled to see me.”
To escape Marianne’s knowing gaze, Tom picked up a page from the folder Cissy had dropped. If Forest hadn’t been so bent on pulling her away, Tom would have handed it back to her. He looked at the page and saw a faded copy of a picture of a zipper with all the different parts labeled and some notes beside it.
In the long silence he could feel Marianne’s penetrating glare, and he felt his face flame.
“She must be something special to rattle you like this, but then again you’ve always been attracted to impossible situations.” Marianne held up her index finger. “Just remember that you need to get to know the girl before you get all worked up . . . or risk facing her uncle’s wrath.”
“I know.” He let out a deep breath. Marianne was right. Because of her uncle, Cissy was definitely what Marianne would call an impossible situation. “It might be worth risking though.”
“All righty then!” Marianne shoved her glasses up to her head, leaned back, and folded her arms, still grinning. “So tell me all about her.”
Tom welcomed her input. He’d worked with her long enough to know that she had good instincts about people. “Her name is Cissy Hillwood, and she’s from Alabama. She will be working for her uncle.”
“Interesting.” Marianne unfolded her arms and propped her elbow on her desk. “At least you know better than to expect a warm welcome. Everyone in the notions business knows how Forest feels about you. It was bad enough before you got here, and then ever since you won the Mizrahi account, he’s done nothing short of dissing you.”
“I know, and I can’t blame him after I managed to get a few of his best accounts, but it’s not like there aren’t enough accounts for both of us.”
“Tell him that.”
“I’ve tried to, but he’s too stubborn to meet with me. Acts like I’m the enemy or something.”
“Maybe you are. I think you should try to see things from his perspective.” Marianne put her reading glasses back down on her nose and pointed to his desk. “I took several messages while you were out. They’re on your desk.”
“Thanks.” Marianne turned to leave, but he stopped her. “And Marianne?”
“Yes?”
“If you hear anything more about Forest Counts or Cissy Hillwood, let me know, would you?”
She smiled. “Sure. I’ll keep my ear to the ground.” With that she left his office, chuckling softly.
Tom took a cursory glance at the messages as he thought about Forest Counts and his grudges. The man was notorious for having started his business, Zippers Plus, on a shoestring and built it to be the thriving business it currently was. Unlike some of the other suppliers of sewing notions companies, he was no-frills, no-nonsense, but he always delivered, and that was what really mattered in the long run. And unlike Sewing Notions Inc. the company that Tom had managed to turn around, Zippers Plus had never had its reputation defiled . . . just temporarily deflated.
As the morning progressed and orders came pouring in, Tom answered questions from the sales people through e-mail and phone calls. The construction noise coming from his office put a cramp in his professional style, but he didn’t have a choice at the moment. Marianne had tried to soundproof his area and make it more private when the remodeling first started, but the heavy blankets she’d strung around his desk left him gasping for air, and he yanked them down before the end of the first day. At least he could look forward to being back in his office that had a large glass window giving him a view outside the four walls.
No matter how hard he tried, Tom couldn’t purge the image of Forest’s niece’s deep blue eyes and honey-brown hair from his mind. She had a blend of Southern belle softness and steely determination he’d seen in the most ambitious women he’d met—only not the aggression he’d come to know and expect. He had a feeling she got what she wanted without having to appear too pushy.
The faded, photocopied image of the labeled zipper kept catching his eye from the corner of his desk. He considered tossing it, but then he wouldn’t have any excuse to see this woman named Cissy. Even her name brought a smile to his face.
He’d just hung up from another sales call when Marianne sauntered over to his desk and picked up the copy of the zipper photo. She snorted. “Looks to me like they don’t expect much from their new salespeople.” Her eyebrows lifted, as she looked him in the eye. “I mean, who doesn’t know the difference between the teeth and the zipper pull?”
“I didn’t.” Tom met her gaze. “In fact, I’m still learning about some of this stuff, and you know I’ve never even used what we sell.”
“Oh, but you do.” She pointed to the carded buttons hanging on the wall behind him. “You use the notions all the time. We all do.”
“So I suppose being the consumer I am makes me an expert.”
Marianne rolled her eyes as she gave him a dismissive wave. “Why don’t you just go on over to Zippers Plus and give that to the pretty girl? You might as well just get it out of your system.”
“That’s probably a very bad idea.”
She leaned over his desk and planted her face less than a foot from his. “Maybe so, but you know you want to. But first figure out how to get past her grumpy uncle who can’t forgive you for taking some of his customers away from him.”
“I took your advice and thought about trying to see things from his perspective, and I can’t say I blame him.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Business is business. I might not be all that forgiving either if I were in his shoes.”
“Oh, you’d forgive him,” Marianne argued.
“Not on company time.”
Marianne sighed and nodded. “You have a good point. If he did it on personal time, you’d give him the shirt off your back and all the money in your wallet. But when it comes to your business . . . ” She raised her eyebrows, tilted her head toward him, and gave him one of those looks only she dared.
“You know I can’t afford to give away the shop. If I did, you’d be out of a job, or worse, working for grumpy old Forest Counts instead of young, charming me.”
Marianne let out an exaggerated sigh. “Maybe so. But I still think you should consider being a bit more Christlike in your business dealings.”
“What do you mean?” he huffed. “It’s not like I lie or cheat or steal . . . or do anything illegal.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s much more to it than that. Sometimes it just seems like you pick and choose when you live your faith—
like when you’re not at the office. On weekdays you just seem to leave your faith at the door.” She pointed at the nonexistent door. “Or more recently, curtain.”
Tom smiled weakly at the joke. “Look, I’ve said this before. Business in New York is cutthroat. If I don’t play the game, the barracudas will eat me alive. After all this company has been through, I have to play the game.”
Marianne shook her head, but doubt still filled her eyes. “I don’t agree. You can still be a shrewd businessman without playing the game like the ruthless barracudas.” She gave him a chance to digest what she said before continuing. “Look, Tom, I know how tough it was on you growing up, knowing that your dad couldn’t make it in business.”
“People told him time after time that he was too nice. If he’d—”
“Being nice wasn’t what made him lose his business. You need to understand the difference between being a good businessman and being a shark that doesn’t care who gets hurt.”
She’d cut close to the quick with that comment.
“I really need to get back to work.” Tom turned his attention to the computer, further signaling the discussion was closed. Still, out of the corner of his eye he could see Marianne frowning as she left his office. She might have his number, but he didn’t have to agree. She was an excellent assistant, but she obviously couldn’t understand what he had to do to keep this business viable—and her and everyone else employed. His dad’s compassion at the small hardware store he owned in upstate New York had cost him the profit needed for his family, and there were days he overheard his parents arguing about the bills and not having enough money to pay them. The financial stress created a chasm between his parents, and they eventually divorced. Since they were broke, he, his sister, and his mom moved in with his aunt in Queens. He rarely saw his dad, who’d taken a traveling job that kept him on the move. Tom’s early life had been rough, so when he became an adult, he vowed to never make the same mistakes his dad had made. Sure, he had a heart for helping others, but once he reached the office, he had to look out for the interests of the business.
Chapter 4
COME ON, GIVE me a break,” Uncle Forest grumbled into the phone, making Cissy cringe. “You know good and well I didn’t just start this business yesterday. Wholesale prices don’t jump 25 percent in two weeks.”
Cissy glanced up at Dave, who hovered near her desk after conducting her first lesson on how to make sales calls. She inhaled the scent of his fresh-smelling soap as his amusement-filled gaze made her smile. Long, reddish eyelashes framed his gray-blue eyes, and his smile showed that he either had great genes or an expensive orthodontist to thank. She’d already noticed that he was only a few inches taller than her, but his muscular arms let her know he wasn’t a wimp.
Dave leaned over and whispered, “Want to take a break now? This is probably a good time to go to lunch.” Even his breath was nice. If she hadn’t already seen Tom Jenkins, she might have been attracted to Dave.
It was already almost noon on her first day of work, and since she’d turned Aunt Bootsie down on her offer of bacon, eggs, biscuits, and a side of grits, her stomach had begun to rumble hours ago. “Sure.” She started to stand, but Uncle Forest’s glare in her direction startled her, so she sat back down. “Maybe we need to ask permission first.”
“No need. We can go to lunch whenever we want, as long as there are enough people here.”
Since she and Uncle Forest had been the first ones to arrive and Dave came in a few minutes after them, it made sense to be the first to take lunch. “Okay, if you’re sure he won’t mind.” She looked back over at her uncle.
Uncle Forest appeared at the door of his office, nodded, and gestured for them to go ahead. She let out a sigh of relief.
Cissy and Dave rode the elevator in silence. The second they stepped out on the first floor, he let out a soft laugh. “You realize this is just how he is, right? I mean, since he’s your uncle, I’m sure you’ve seen that he’s all bark and no bite.”
“I haven’t really been around him that much since he moved away from Alabama when I was a little girl, so no, I didn’t know that about him.” Cissy smiled at her new friend. “So tell me about him.”
Dave made a face. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“Anything you say will be kept in the closest confidence.”
“Same here. I would appreciate knowing I can say whatever, and it won’t get back. I’ll do the same for you.”
“You got it. I had an office friend back home. She and I used to vent all over the place at lunch, but when we got back, we zipped our lips.” She gave him a reassuring look. “So whatever we say stays between us.”
“Promise?”
“My word is my promise.” She smiled. “So what’s it like working for Uncle . . . er . . . Forest Counts?”
Dave swallowed hard, glanced away, and then turned back to look her in the eye. “He comes across mad all the time, but he knows what he’s doing in business, and he’s always ethical, even if it costs him money. There are only two notions distributors in this city that are doing well: Zippers Plus and—”
“Sewing Notions Inc., right?”
Dave squinted. “How did you know?”
“A little birdie . . . and that very good-looking Tom Jenkins.”
“You know Tom?”
Cissy nodded. “Yep. He practically mowed me down yesterday after we left the office. You should have seen Uncle Forest’s face.”
“Whoa. I can only imagine.”
“What do you know about Tom?”
“I know he likes good-looking women.” He shot her a glance, and she let out an embarrassed giggle. Dave frowned and took on a big-brother air. “Cissy, I think you need to be very careful. Sewing Notions is our biggest competitor, and there’s bad blood between Mr. Counts and Tom, who just happens to own Sewing Notions Inc. Your uncle will protect his business with everything he has, and if he thinks anything is going on between you and Tom, there’s no telling what he might do.” Dave gave her a sympathetic look. “You might find yourself on a plane back to Alabama.”
She thought about that for a moment before nodding. “Thanks for all your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d do fine.” He chuckled. “And I’m just doing my job.”
Cissy laughed. “Mama always said not to bite the hand that feeds me.” She glanced around. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a fabulous little deli around the corner that serves the best sandwiches in New York.” Dave wiggled his eyebrows. “At least that’s what the sign in the window says. Anyway, they’re cheap, and the food is good.”
The sound of “Sweet Home Alabama” erupted from Cissy’s handbag, so she pulled out her cell phone, glanced at the screen, and saw that it was Mama. Cissy held up a finger and asked Dave to slow down so she could talk.
“I hear sirens,” Mama said. “What happened? Is someone hurt?”
“No, Mama, this is New York. There are cars—and sirens—everywhere.” She glanced at Dave, who appeared amused.
“I don’t like—”
“Trust me, I’m just fine, but I can’t talk now. Dave and I are on our lunch break.”
“Who’s Dave? Do you know anything about him? How did you meet him? I can’t believe you’ve already—”
Cissy looked at Dave again, who was obviously trying hard to pretend not to listen. “He’s another salesman at Uncle Forest’s company, and he’s training me.”
“Oh, I reckon that’s okay. Does Forest know you’re with him?”
“Yes, of course he does.”
Mama let out a breath. “Call me later, okay? I can’t help but worry about you, Cissy. You’ve always been so impetuous and boy crazy.”
“Mama!”
“Just be careful, okay?”
“Of course.” Cissy hung up and gave Dave an apologetic glance.
He laughed. “My mom still worries about me too, and I’m almost thirty.”
> As they walked, Cissy relaxed. The tension in the office had been high all morning, with Uncle Forest arguing over wholesale prices and the competition between the salespeople and their competitors. She wanted to talk about anything but work.
“So where are you from?” she asked.
Dave contorted his mouth. “Is it that obvious I’m not from here?”
“Not really,” she said. “I just assumed you had to be from somewhere.”
“I was born in St. Louis, but my family moved to Indiana when I was a teenager.”
“What brought you here?”
He shrugged. “After I graduated from college, I wanted to move to the big city and get a high-powered job. So I threw my résumé up on all the job sites.”
“Did Uncle Forest hire you through a job site?” That sure didn’t sound like her uncle, but what did she know?
“Are you kidding?” He cast a goofy look in her direction. “No way. I had my first interview on Wall Street, and they pretty much told me I didn’t stand a chance of working there . . . at least not for a few years.”
“It’s a long way from Wall Street to Zippers Plus,” she said.
“Let’s just say I took the scenic route getting to my job. Lots and lots of interviews—from the business district to where I am now.” He shrugged. “It’s a very long story that will take more time than we have for lunch.”
“By the way, how much time do we have?”
“As little as possible.” Dave stopped in front of a hole-in-the-wall deli and pushed the door open. “After you.”
Cissy couldn’t believe how many people were crammed in the small space between the display counter and the wall. “It must be good.”
Dave nodded. “It’s affordable and fast. I’m sure you’ll probably want to come back.”
The rapid-fire orders from customers and the order-taker’s hollering intimidated Cissy, so she hung back and let Dave order for her. As she hovered a few feet from the counter, she took a deep breath and inhaled the blended scent of vinegar, deli meat, and exhaust fumes that wafted in from the street each time someone came in.
