Sweet Southern Hearts

by Susan Schild

  “Maybe,” Linny said, taking a bite of the warm muffin. Yum.

  “When I’ve got a case on my mind, my own husband says he can say something to me and I don’t even hear him. I’m not ignoring him, just don’t hear him.” Mary Catherine took a too-large bite of her muffin and had to swill some coffee to help slide it down.

  Linny measured an inch of space between her thumb and forefinger. “Could you be just a tiny bit more personable with your next office manager?”

  “So I need to walk around smiling like this?” Mary Catherine gave an awful toothy-looking fake smile.

  “Maybe not that smile, but smiling once in a while wouldn’t hurt you.” Linny nodded encouragingly and slathered butter on the muffin to make up for its supposed healthiness. “Ask about their weekend, how their kids are—that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t care about their weekends or their kids,” Mary Catherine grumbled. “I just need them to excel at their work.”

  “But you want them to stick around,” Linny said quietly.

  “Stupid interpersonal skills,” Mary Catherine said darkly. “You know how I am.”

  Linny did. A childhood spent in trailer parks with a beer-drinking, party-girl mama and no father on the scene, the family would stay in a place for a few months and have to slip out in the middle of the night because the rent was due and the money was gone. Her friend trusted only a few people, but if you were lucky enough to be one of them, she’d take a bullet for you. Linny speared a piece of melon from the bowl. “Maybe you could warn the next person you hire. Let them know what to expect and not to take it personally.”

  “Ah, a disclaimer. Good idea.” Mary Catherine put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “What about you, girl? What’s new? How was the honeymoon?”

  Aware of the gossipmongers in Willow Hill, Linny leaned forward and spoke quietly. “The honeymoon was wonderful, but we had to cut it short because Vera and Chaz were fighting so badly that Neal was upset.”

  Mary Catherine raised her eyes to heaven. “Gracious. Two big babies.”

  “Uh-huh,” Linny said, absurdly grateful to be understood so quickly. Her friend knew all about the divorce wars because of her family law practice. “And without running it by me, Jack told Vera he’d pinch-hit for an MIA Chaz and take Neal out to Tucson to see an observatory.”

  Mary Catherine patted her mouth with the napkin. “So Neal’s staying with you until . . . ?”

  “Until things over at that household simmer down,” Linny said with an inward shudder, remembering how the boy could be when he was in one of his moods.

  Mary Catherine raised a brow. “If they do.”

  Linny grimaced. What if the fighting continued? Jack might end up having to take legal action. Her stomach tightened, knowing from Mary Catherine just how ugly a custody battle could get. And Chaz was an attorney, so he’d likely be a bear of an opponent. And what if Neal did end up staying with them? Was she really ready for a full-time, sometimes openly hostile stepson? She looked away. “Neal was sweet as pie when Jack first picked him up, but he’s started acting up. Last night Jack got a work-related call after we’d just finished supper. Neal’s regular chore is to clear the dishes and load the dishwasher, but because his dad wasn’t there to tell him to hop to, he just sat there at the kitchen table and started playing games on his cell. Jack stayed on the phone and I was putting away food, so I asked Neal to help. He ignored me.” She felt a hot flush of anger just thinking about it. “Just pretended he hadn’t heard. I asked again and he just looked at me and said, ‘No.’ When Jack got off the phone, I told him about it. Neal interrupted me, shouting, ‘She can’t boss me. She’s not my mother,’ and ran to his room and slammed the door. And Jack just . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.

  “Let him,” Mary Catherine finished Linny’s sentence

  “Yup,” Linny said, sounding more hurt than she wanted to. “I talked to Jack about backing me up, but he reminded me of how rough things had been for Neal lately.”

  “Things are rough for him now, but you basically just need Jack’s backup and you need to toughen up.” Mary Catherine gave her a shrewd look and popped a last bite of muffin in her mouth. “The mess with Vera and Chaz is likely to stir up bad behavior in Neal, but in general teenaged boys are like jackals. They’ll turn on you with bared teeth, tell you they hate your guts, and then they’ll ask you to fix them a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  Jackals. Wow. Linny nodded, discouraged.

  Her friend eyed her as if she was trying to decide if Linny was ready for more stark truths. “Not sure if you remember all this, but Dare liked to pee out his bedroom window, crashed our car when he took it for a spin at aged thirteen, and accidentally sank Mike’s brand-new bass boat.” She gave a matter-of-fact nod. “I think Neal is a more sensible boy, though.”

  Linny groaned. “What have I gotten myself in to?”

  “He’s got stability with the two of you, and that will go a long way.” Mary Catherine took a last sip of coffee. “Just don’t take it personally. You need to muddle through and it will all work out.”

  But she wasn’t sure it would all work out, she thought, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. She was also still off-balance from Jack’s guess-who’s-going-to-Tucson announcement. She gave herself a mental shake. Enough about her drama. “Oh, and I’m going on an RV trip to Dollywood and Graceland with Mama and her girlfriends.”

  “Fun,” Mary Catherine said, looking thoughtful. “Might be a perfect time for a getaway. They’ll appreciate you all the more when you get home.”

  Linny nodded and rummaged in her purse for her wallet. “How’s my favorite godson?”

  “Dare is well.” Mary Catherine signaled for the check. “Sent me pictures of a new girlfriend. Her name’s Breeze and she wears long, flowing dresses, nothing like his usual preppy girls with snooty names like Sloane or Teague. Last one was called Atherton. Thank goodness she’s gone.” Mary Catherine wrinkled her nose as she pulled bills from her wallet.

  Linny decided not to point out that Dare’s name sounded snooty, too, even though he was just named after the only normal man in Mary Catherine’s rip-roaring family: a music teacher uncle. “Send that fellow of yours a big ole hug for me,” Linny said as they rose.

  “I will,” Mary Catherine promised. “And pat Jack and Neal for me.”

  Linny grinned at her friend and they walked to their cars.

  CHAPTER 3

  Back in the Saddle Again

  The next afternoon Linny glanced at the time on her phone as she pushed open the door with the sign that read “Green Sage Information Technology Solutions.” Good. She was a few minutes early for her one o’clock meeting with the owner. Glancing around the waiting room of the old cotton mill that had been converted into office space, Linny glanced up and spotted the rusted-out body of an old Chevy truck that was suspended—by good, stout wires, she hoped—above her head. One wall was lined with old gray boards and a semblance of a red tin roof: a nod to the old tobacco barns that were starting to collapse and disappear from the North Carolina countryside. The floors were honey-colored, wide-planked boards and looked to be original to the mill. She liked the feel of the place.

  Surreptitiously, Linny tried to rub the knots out of her tight neck. Her business account was running on empty and she needed to pick up some work to write herself a paycheck. Too much time planning a wedding and mooning over Jack Avery, Linny decided, and felt a flood of happiness, remembering the wedding that had featured her and Jack riding to the altar on horseback and Neal flying in on a zip line. She loved her new life, but it was time to get cracking. Linny was proud of her less-than-a-year-old consulting business, but if she didn’t start shaking the trees for work, she’d be in big trouble when quarterly taxes came due. She knew Jack would gladly let her pay taxes from the household account, but she never would. This was her business and she’d pay her way.

  The owner of a small IT consulting firm, Chanel Green had
called to arrange this morning’s meeting after a business colleague—a happy former client of Linny’s—had recommended her. When she’d phoned, Chanel had mentioned personnel issues she might want help with but had been vague about the specifics.

  Linny tried to be surreptitious as she eyed the cable on the truck chassis and skooched her chair to the right. She’d heard Chanel Green was a rising star in the thriving local high-tech start-up scene, but what would she be like? Way younger and smarter than Linny was? She shuddered inwardly and prayed she wasn’t one of those young business hot shots she read about in Forbes and Fast Company magazines: the ones wearing hip glasses on their unlined faces, smiling smugly and standing with their arms crossed in that master-of-destiny pose.

  A pin-thin young woman stepped into the waiting room wearing red aviator glasses, a plaid skirt, and a T-shirt printed with some ironic statement about string theory and quantum physics, things Linny didn’t even pretend to grasp. “Linny Taylor?” the woman asked, unsmiling. “I’m Chanel Green.”

  “Chanel, so pleased to meet you.” Linny rose, smiled, and shot out a hand, fighting the urge to reread the shirt to try to decipher it for clues about its wearer. Staring at a client’s chest—male or female—was never a good idea.

  Chanel gave Linny a firm handshake and beckoned her to follow as she strode toward an office in the corner of the two-story building that had been retrofitted into an open work space. Passing partitioned areas where employees in jeans and T-shirts talked on phones and worked on laptops, Linny enjoyed the buzz of activity and liked walking on the sloping old pine floors. A young man whose blond hair was cut in a Doris Day kind of bob popped up athletically from a red slide: a speedy route from the second floor to the first. Peering down to the other end of the building, she saw a lithe young woman slide down a fire pole, a speedy exit for the other side of the building. She grinned at Chanel. “I’ve always wanted to slide down one of those poles.”

  “We could arrange for that,” Chanel said, her coolness warming a bit as a look of amusement flitted over her face. “We had a king-of-the-jungle type rope swing but had to take it down. People kept doing that Tarzan call. Distracting.”

  Linny nodded, hiding a smile.

  Chanel walked briskly. “We have healthy lunches brought in every day, thanks to the Culinary Institute at Worth County Community College. The budding chefs get experience and we get to be tasters. My people love it so everybody wins. We have a yoga and meditation class here every day. You’re welcome to stay for that after our meeting.” Her eyes swept over Linny’s black pants suit. “We could find you some shorts and a T-shirt.”

  Wincing inwardly as they walked by a woman wearing what appeared to be knickers, Linny realized she’d dressed way too corporate. “I can’t stay today, but what a great idea.”

  “Helps us all shake off stress, although . . .” She slowed her pace, looking thoughtful. “Believe it or not, employees even get competitive about how relaxed they can get. They’ve come up with some crazy self-rating system about meditation.” She shook her head and smiled ruefully. As she pointed her toward an open office door, Linny saw that Chanel’s unpainted fingernails were bitten to the quick.

  The young woman shut the door. Throwing open a slope-shouldered old Frigidaire, she offered Linny a drink. “Water, Revving Zinger Energy Drink, Cheerwine, or Mountain Dew?”

  Hoping the energy drink was the youngest, most down-with-new-technology choice, Linny said firmly, “I’ll have a Revving Zinger. I love the stuff. Drink it all the time.” Hearing her own burbling, Linny flushed and firmly closed her mouth.

  “Ah.” Chanel’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded, handed Linny the drink, and gestured for her to take a seat in a weathered-looking rocking chair that served as a seat for visitors. She slid behind a desk topped with an old oak door that had been modified to accommodate her phone and laptop.

  Linny tilted her head back and took what she hoped was a long, youthful-looking pull of the drink. It was awful: some combination of cherry cough syrup and pink bubble gum. She wished she could spit it out but made herself swallow. A rustling sound came from under the desk and Linny froze.

  Chanel nodded solemnly. “Sage speaks.”

  Linny nodded back, not sure why. Was there a young person under her desk? Nap pods or some such Googleish or Zapposish enhanced work environment thing?

  “Do you like dogs?” Chanel asked in a tone that almost sounded like a challenge.

  “We have six,” Linny said hesitantly and gave her a smile similar to the one Mary Catherine had practiced at breakfast yesterday morning.

  Grinning, Chanel raised her fist in some sort of power-to-the-people gesture and said, “Dogs rule.” Gesturing for Linny to come around the desk, she leaned over and said, “This is Sage. He’s retired.”

  Linny saw a gray-muzzled German Shepherd sleeping curled up on a gold velvet dog bed, his legs twitching. A gray muzzle on an old dog always touched her. Not wanting to wake him by patting him, she murmured, “He’s so handsome.” She chided herself. Of course this place would be dog friendly.

  “He is.” Chanel gazed at him adoringly. “He’s gone deaf and he’s got bad arthritis, but he’s still a prince,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “When I was just starting out as a one-person operation and trying to get people to take me seriously, I always mentioned my business partner to prospective clients. That was Sage. Made us sound legit, like we were bigger than we were.”

  Linny went back to her chair, sank back in it, and began to slowly rock. She liked Chanel. “So how can I help you?”

  “Green Sage is a forty-nine-person information technology consulting firm I started after grad school. We’re good at what we do and our client list is growing, but I’ve got two problems.” She pushed her red glasses back up on her nose and winced, admitting, “Some of my employees are getting complaints from their clients. They think of the regular callers as friends and talk to them too casually or eat on the phone or don’t call them back in a timely way. Others would rather text clients than talk to them on the phone or in person. If they can’t talk to clients, they can’t solve problems or introduce new add-ons or products.” She blew out a gusty sigh. “None of them are very good at handling customer complaints. Last week I found three of my women huddled in the bathroom, hoping that one of the other employees would get stuck with a call they knew was coming from an angry client. Scaredey-cats. Oh, and they play pranks on one another that border on bullying.” She tipped back in her chair and gave Linny a challenging look. “So there you have it.”

  Linny jumped in, the caffeine in the Revving Zinger starting to course through her veins. “That’s not at all unusual with people in IT. All are smart and talented technically but many aren’t so great with customer relations. Conflict throws them. When challenged, some try to duck it like your women hiding out in the bathroom, and others act like know-it-all experts, both of which just escalates things with upset customers.”

  Chanel nodded vigorously and gave her a relieved smile. “I was worried we were the only ones who stink at customer relations.”

  Linny shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s as common as corn bread.” She felt the blood rush to her face. One of her mama’s favorite expressions had just rolled out of her mouth. Minnie Pearl shows up at the business meeting with this savvy, accomplished young woman.

  But instead of shooing her out of the office and back to hillbilly-land, the corner of Chanel’s lips turned up. “Can you fix us?”

  “I can help.” Linny paused and thought about it. “I’d like to interview some of your employees and a few of your clients to find out more about the problems. Then we can set up training and let them practice with case studies based on real-life Green Sage client situations.”

  “Sounds smart,” Chanel said but drummed her fingers on the door desk and looked glum. “But problem two: My people don’t get along. I’m afraid there’s some sexism going on here and, because of it, the men and the women have formed separa
te camps. One of my best women tried to quit on me last week. I managed to talk her out of it, and when I found out the reason why she wanted to leave, it made me angry.” She scowled. “The guys here withhold information from the women, and there’s too much trash talk that’s got a real edge to it. Double entendres, ditsy women comments, borderline inappropriate comments about women in general, that sort of thing.”

  Oooh boy. A flame of indignation ignited in Linny’s stomach and she tried to quickly tamp it down. Sexism could be a problem in all fields but she’d seen quite a bit of it in IT and engineering. She’d had enough experience addressing sexism in companies over the years to know how demoralizing it could be, and terribly expensive if it escalated to a legal matter.

  “Now the female employees are ticked at the men and getting hostile with them.” Chanel scrubbed her face with her hands and looked chagrined. “I grew up with three brothers and did an internship at a gaming company so I’ve got a thick skin. But I detest sexism,” she said, her voice vehement. Chanel looked away for a moment. “And I’ve been so busy growing the business that I haven’t noticed all this.” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the offices and cubicles outside her office. “I’m mad at myself that this has happened in a workplace I created.”

  “You need a comfortable work environment free of harassment of any kind.” Linny thought about it, remembering her work with other high-tech start-ups. Keeping her tone even, she added, “My hunch is that a lot of your employees don’t even realize what they’re doing and how damaging their interactions can be. Maybe it’s their first job out of school, or maybe they’ve worked at companies where this kind of conduct was acceptable.”

  Chanel nodded vigorously, her intelligent eyes flashing that Linny was correct.

  Linny went on. “So you’ve got to help them identify sexism and harassment—however subtle—and make it clear it won’t be tolerated at Green Sage. You can present a code of conduct. You need to tell them your expectations that they work as a team and what happens if they don’t.” Linny gazed at her directly. “I can help you fix this.”