One Night Standards

by Cathy Yardley

  “Of course not.” Mark smiled, feeling more confident. He and Sophie had discussed that much, at least.

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself.” Mrs. Marion stood. “Well, then. Talk to your company, and I’ll approach Diva Nation for one more meeting. It will be interesting to see how this all plays out.”

  “I’m sure it will work out beautifully,” Mark said, shaking her hand.

  “You know,” Mrs. Marion said, “if Trimera doesn’t go for it, maybe I could find a place for you here, in my organization. I’m always looking for talent that’s hungry and creative.” She winked. “And good-looking doesn’t hurt.”

  She lingered in her handshake. It wasn’t sexual, necessarily, but it did feel predatory. He knew how Mrs. Marion did business. He knew it could also be a possibly great opportunity. Nonetheless, he also knew that she wasn’t the sort of person he wanted to work for directly.

  “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Marion,” he said as politely as possible. “I’ll have to see what happens.”

  “You do that,” she said, still smiling.

  Mark headed back to the Trimera office. Now, he had to make good on his promise…and make sure that everything turned out just the way he’d planned it.

  “WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?” Sophie’s mother whispered. “I thought we’d lost the account.”

  Sophie sat in a swanky restaurant in New York, at a large table. She hadn’t revealed the details of her conversation with Mrs. Marion. She had hoped to convince the woman that Diva Nation was worth the effort, but she also knew that Mrs. Marion was, in a way, similar to her mother—more interested in cold, hard facts and scientific precision than touchy-feely issues. So Sophie had come up with a solution that would give her mother some breathing room, or so she thought. Mrs. Marion was intrigued. This, apparently, was the result.

  She hadn’t been able to talk to Mark, partially because she wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t trying to cut him out. She just couldn’t leave her fate completely in his hands. It would put too much pressure on both of them. Besides, if this worked out, he’d probably still get the promotion, her mother would keep the house, and Sophie would be what she wanted to be more than anything in the world, these days. Completely free to make her own choices.

  Please, please let this work!

  “So many seats,” her mother said, taking a nervous sip of her water. “Who are we expecting?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “Mrs. Marion only told me to reserve a table for seven.”

  She wondered absently if Mrs. Marion would have the partnership papers with her. It was too soon, and Sophie knew that her mother was going to have to be slowly coaxed into the idea. But once she saw the numbers, Sophie felt sure that her mother would see that selling Diva Nation outright to Marion & Co. was the best and smartest option. It was just business.

  She smirked bitterly. Business was business. At this rate, she could’ve sewn a needlepoint sampler that said the same. It was like her daily mantra.

  Mrs. Marion walked up, Lily at her side as always. “It’s so nice to see you again,” she said in her smooth voice, sounding very pleased with herself. “I’m glad you agreed to meet with us.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Sophie started, but her mother interrupted.

  “It was our understanding that we lost the account,” her mother said, and Sophie winced. “Has something changed?”

  Mrs. Marion laughed. “Directness. I like that,” she said easily. “Something has changed, indeed. I think we might be able to negotiate something beneficial after all.”

  Sophie felt her heart leap. Glancing at her mother, she saw both surprise and a renewed sense of hope. “I see,” her mother said slowly.

  “Unless you don’t want the account?”

  “Of course we want to work with you,” Sophie assured her.

  Mrs. Marion sat down. “I’m still expecting some people,” she said, gesturing to the empty chairs, “but before they get here, I thought we’d lay out all the cards on the table. You like being direct—so do I.”

  Sophie felt some of her excitement ebb. Mrs. Marion looked stern.

  “You’re in financial trouble,” Mrs. Marion said.

  Sophie’s mouth fell open. Her mother spluttered. “That’s not relevant to these discussions—”

  “Don’t bother denying it,” Mrs. Marion interrupted. “And it is relevant. I like to know who I’m working with. It was going to be enough of a problem dealing with a small company with vendor supply issues. But one on the brink of financial dissolution—well, that has problem written all over it.”

  Sophie felt the blood drain from her face. “We would be in the clear,” she said, “if we got the Marion & Co. account.”

  “Barely,” Mrs. Marion replied. “You’d still be struggling for that initial year, though. You need more than my account. You need an influx of capital, to keep yourselves going. And I don’t want to work with a company that’s struggling when it comes to something this prominent.”

  Sophie felt confused. Mrs. Marion was basically saying that there wasn’t any way she’d work with Diva Nation…which wasn’t what she’d said on the phone. What had changed between then and now?

  “So why did you want to meet with us?” Sophie said, echoing her mother’s question.

  “Because I want to see if you understand the situation you’re in,” Mrs. Marion said sharply. “I decided to work with Trimera because they gave me concessions. You might not have the leverage—but you’ve got something I want. How badly do you want to get out of the hole you’re in?”

  Sophie turned to her mother, feeling flabbergasted. Of all the ways this meeting was going to run, she hadn’t anticipated this turn of events at all. “Mom?” she asked softly. “It’s your company. How badly do we want the account?”

  Her mother’s eyes lit with determination. “Mrs. Marion,” she replied, her voice calm and proud, “I’ll do almost anything to get this account. I believe in my company and our products. If you worked with us, I can promise that the results would be extraordinary.”

  “Ah, but what are you willing to give up?”

  Sophie frowned. “What, exactly, are you asking for, Mrs. Marion?”

  Before Mrs. Marion could answer, Sophie spied Mark, his boss Simone, and the man who had been present at the New York meeting—Roger, she believed his name was. They were making their way to the table. Sophie saw her mother tense and a look of hatred cross her face. “What are they doing here?” her mother demanded.

  “This involves Trimera, as well,” Mrs. Marion said mildly. “Mark, I’m glad you could make it.”

  Mark smiled at Sophie, and Sophie felt relief wash over her like a warm bath. He looked happy—confident. She noticed that Simone and Roger looked less happy. What had he pulled off?

  She suddenly felt as if she’d been dumped into a frozen lake. She hadn’t told him everything. Obviously, he’d been holding out on her, as well.

  “Mrs. Jones,” Mark said, holding his hand out to Sophie’s mom cordially. She stared at it for a second, then shook it, disdain obvious on her face. She shot a quick glare at Sophie. “I suppose you’re wondering what we’re doing here.”

  “I haven’t told them the deal,” Mrs. Marion said, and damned if that amused grin of hers didn’t pop back up. Sophie felt the creep of unease filter through her relief. “Since it was your idea, Mark, I thought I’d let you present it.”

  Sophie stared, totally shocked. Mark’s idea?

  “It’s been patently obvious that Diva Nation’s products were far better than anything Trimera had come up with,” Mark said, earning a sour look from his boss. “And there was no way we could replicate the products with the same results. You are a cosmetics genius, Mrs. Jones.”

  Sophie’s mom nodded in acceptance of the compliment. Sophie could tell she was a little mollified, even if she still didn’t trust Mark.

  “And I’m sure you realize that there’s no way that your company could compete f
inancially with Trimera,” Mark continued. “That was how we won the account—with concessions and perks.”

  “That was the only way you could win,” Sophie’s mother interjected darkly.

  “Mom,” Sophie warned. “I’m sorry, Mark.”

  “So I proposed a compromise,” Mark said. “Diva Nation’s products, with Trimera’s clout. The best of all possible worlds.”

  Sophie stared at him, unsure of where he was going.

  “I’m not giving you the formulas,” Sophie’s mom said. “If you’re going to knock them off, you’ll have to figure it out yourselves.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Mark said. “I still think that Diva Nation should create its own products. I think that the company should be partnered with Marion & Co, and continue with the work you’ve started.”

  Sophie blinked. “Maybe I’m just slow here,” she said. “But what, exactly, are you proposing?”

  Mark’s smile was wide. “I’m saying that Trimera will purchase Diva Nation,” he said. “Diva Nation will become a sub-brand, working with Marion & Co. We’ll pay fair market value, don’t worry, and we’ll make sure that you’re still involved with the running and operating of the company, since it’s your innovation and creativity that’s so valuable. We’ll partner up. That way, Diva Nation becomes financially stable, Trimera gets a tremendous new brand, and Marion & Co. gets a great deal on a superior product. Everybody comes out ahead.”

  Sophie blinked, then almost burst out laughing. He’d thought the same thing she had—selling Diva Nation. Great minds think alike, she thought inanely.

  “I figured you’d be up for it,” Mrs. Marion said, “since you decided to try selling Diva Nation to me, Sophie.”

  Sophie’s mother stared at her, as did Mark.

  “So now, instead of Marion & Co. buying it, it’d be Trimera. Best of both possible worlds. What do you say?”

  “It couldn’t be more perfect,” Sophie said softly to her mother. “What do you think?”

  Her mother was silent for a long moment. Then she stood up.

  “I think,” she said coldly, “that you can all go to hell.”

  Sophie’s eyebrows jumped up. “Mom?”

  “Do you think I’m selling my company to the same jerks that fired me?” She grabbed up her purse, anger making her clumsy and catching the strap on the back of her chair. “Do you actually think I could trust you? Given the first opportunity, you’ll drive Diva Nation right into the ground. No, thank you. I am not going to make this deal.”

  Mrs. Marion was frowning, as were Roger and Simone. Mark looked stunned.

  “Excuse me,” Sophie said. “I’ll go talk to her.” She followed her mother, almost running to catch up with her. “Mom, what are you doing?”

  “The nerve!” her mother fumed. “The absolute gall!”

  “But Mom, it solves everything,” Sophie said, grabbing her mother’s shoulder and forcing her to stop walking. “You’ll be in the clear. You won’t have to worry about money anymore. You’ll keep the house—”

  “I don’t want to keep it that way,” her mother said stubbornly.

  Sophie felt like shaking her. “Damn it, I’m trying to help you here,” she said. “I’ve done everything I can. Mark’s gone above and beyond to help you. So why are you acting this way?”

  Her mom’s face was pensive. “I want to make sure I don’t lose everything again,” she said. “If only I could figure out some way to trust them, Sophie. You’ve been naive before. You think that this is perfect, and it looks it. The things that look perfect are the things that always wreck you in the end.”

  “So what do you want, Mom?” Sophie exploded, frustrated. “What would it take for you to trust them?”

  Her mother sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Come back to the table,” Sophie said.

  Slowly, her mother went back with her. Roger and Simone were talking to Mark, away from the table. Mrs. Marion was muttering something to Lily, who was taking down notes on her PDA. Mrs. Marion looked up.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked mildly, but her expression was fierce.

  Sophie’s mom glanced at the Trimera contingent. “If this is going to go through,” she said, “I’d want some assurances from you.”

  Mrs. Marion frowned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “No, this would be a deal breaker,” she responded.

  Mrs. Marion stood. “Come walk with me,” she said.

  Sophie watched as her mother walked away with Mrs. Marion—something that Mark and his team also seemed to find disturbing. Mark sat next to Sophie. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie said. “But I think she’s going to take the deal.”

  “She’d better,” Mark said. “It’s the only thing I could think of—and my neck’s on the line now.”

  “We’re all on the line,” Sophie countered, and he nodded, breathing roughly.

  “You can tell your mom when I’m in charge of the account, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get run into the ground,” he said solemnly.

  Sophie glanced over to where her mother was talking to Mrs. Marion in a low voice. “I’ll try,” she said.

  But even as she promised, she now had the sinking feeling that, despite the solution, her mother wasn’t going to take the easy way out.

  11

  “FOR GOD’S SAKE, MARK,” Simone said with disgust, “after the conversation we had, I thought you were smarter than this.”

  Mrs. Marion had taken over, not surprisingly—and now he wasn’t quite sure where the deal to purchase Diva Nation stood. Mark wasn’t quite sure how he’d lost control of the situation.

  He closed his eyes. No, he did know. He’d lost control when Sophie had entered the picture. And frankly, all hell had broken loose when her mother had decided to throw a wrench in the works.

  “It should’ve been a straightforward deal,” Mark muttered, taking a drink of his scotch and soda. “They should’ve jumped at it.”

  “You had the account. We didn’t need them, damn it.” Simone had a vodka martini in front of her. It was her second. Roger was off in a corner, muttering darkly on his cell phone. “You had the road to a big promotion in your grasp, and you decided to trash the whole damned thing. What were you thinking?”

  “Hey,” Mark said defensively, “buying Diva Nation is a great step for Trimera. Roger thought so. So did his boss. If they didn’t, we wouldn’t have moved so fast on the offer.”

  Simone rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Mark, I know you have feelings for her, but I thought you had your head on straight. Now I can see that you’re definitely making bad decisions because of that woman. And Roger—he’s beyond angry.”

  “It’s my account,” Mark argued, feeling despondent. “He’s pissed now, but give me a year. Once I show what I can do…”

  “It won’t matter,” Simone informed him. “You jeopardized the team. It looks like you were showboating and you’re trying to go over Roger’s head. You can’t possibly be that naive, to think that Roger’s just interested in your performance. He’s covering his own butt.”

  Mark winced. Yes, of course, he should know better. He hadn’t meant to burn bridges. He’d hoped that Roger would see that this was a big step for everyone.

  Apparently he’d gauged that one wrong, as well.

  “You’re lucky we still have the account, actually…and that Mrs. Marion likes you,” Simone said. “Otherwise, I think that Roger would have you fired by the end of the day.”

  The statement sent a chill of dread over Mark. He gritted his teeth. “Well, we do still have the account, and all of this is going to work out,” he finished grimly.

  Simone did not look convinced.

  Roger stalked back to the table. “They’re going nuts over at corporate,” he said, glaring at Mark. “You and your bright ideas. Why’d you get Mrs. Marion involved in the first place? That woman’s worse than a camel trader. Whatever she’s ‘negotiating�
� with Diva Nation, you know Trimera’s going to get taken worse than it already is. We gave her everything but the kitchen sink to get her to choose us over them. And now we’ll probably have to spend millions on a company that will be a pain in the ass.”

  “I knew that if we approached Diva Nation separately, they might not listen,” Mark replied, even though he also felt that involving Mrs. Marion might’ve been a mistake. “I knew that they saw the account as the one thing that would save them. I figured bringing her in would guarantee the sale.”

  “And look how well that turned out,” Roger said sarcastically. “I’m sorry we went after the damned account in the first place!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” a woman’s voice intoned.

  Mark turned to see Mrs. Marion standing by their table. He winced. Roger at least looked embarrassed. Simone didn’t change expression; she simply downed the rest of her martini and motioned to the waiter for a refill. Meanwhile, Sophie and her mother seemed to have left the restaurant.

  Mark stared at Mrs. Marion, whose face was solemn—and he got the feeling that, whatever she was about to announce, it wasn’t good.

  “You can cheer up,” she said. “The deal is going through. Mrs. Jones and your CEO just settled on a price, and lawyers will be drawing up paperwork in the next few weeks.”

  Mark felt his body relax, a smile crossing his face. “You’re a miracle worker,” he said. He knew that Roger would still be angry, and Simone disappointed, but at least he’d gotten what he set out for. Sophie must feel even more relieved. He couldn’t wait to hear what Sophie had to say.

  “But there were some additional provisions,” she said. “Mrs. Jones was quite adamant about that.”

  Mark blanched. He should have known. Still, it was better than nothing. “What sort of provisions?”

  She shook her head. “The thing she was most afraid of was that Trimera’s marketing department would try and alter the course of her company—change her products, change their packaging, what have you. She doesn’t trust the management.”

  “Well, we did fire her,” Mark said. “I’ll do what I can to reassure her. I’m sure I can put something in writing, incorporate it in the sale paperwork…”