Amanda planned to arrive tomorrow in time for the wedding, and Candace hadn’t bothered to find out whether she was bringing someone. Jess would be arriving today with her boyfriend, Beau. They weren’t attending the dinner—tonight was their own. Candace had instructed her to be up early tomorrow morning, however, and to be available to help as needed. Candace had a massage scheduled for ten o’clock and early afternoon hair and nail appointments at Carena’s, a chic Manhattan atelier de beauté frequented by the city’s super-wealthy. Photographs would be taken at half past four at the St. George Hotel, and the ceremony at Holy Cross was at six. Then it was back to the St. George for the reception, a sit-down dinner for ninety-four people, and dancing until the wee hours.
Rob had left for the office an hour ago. He planned to put in a full day today before disappearing from the office for a fortnight, something he had never done. He would be home this evening around six, then the two of them would get ready for dinner. Candace dressed for the gym, dropped her iPhone in her bag, and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.
She finished her workout at ten thirty and entered the women’s locker room to retrieve her bag, planning to walk the two blocks back home to shower and dress. She donned a light jacket—the weather was gorgeous today, if a bit on the cool side. Reaching in her bag, she pulled out her phone to check for messages. Eight new emails were waiting for her attention, one of them flagged as urgent. It was from Ginger. Candace sat down on a teak bench in the locker room and opened the message.
Ginger had forwarded an email from Phoebe, who was charged with scheduling production of the SwimZ orders. Candace read the message quickly and dialed Ginger, who picked up on the first ring.
“Did you call Phoebe?” asked Candace.
“Yes, but I haven’t given her directions yet. Should we get her on a conference call?”
“Let’s talk privately first. When did she notice the numbers?”
“This morning, just before nine o’clock. She said she spent the next hour trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“But she couldn’t, and then she sent you this email.”
“Correct,” said Ginger. “She was panicking, with all of us up here in New York, and you about to be unreachable for two weeks.”
“I won’t be unreachable—at least, not all the time. But she was prudent to email you right away. Who does she have that can help her get to the bottom of this?”
“She has seven people under her. The best one is probably Wendy.”
“Good. Let’s do get Phoebe on the line with both of us in thirty minutes. In the meantime, tell her to have Wendy drop what she’s doing and help her.”
“Got it.”
“You place the call. Phoebe can tell both of us what they’ve managed to learn. I’m leaving the gym and going back to the apartment to jump in the shower.”
“Okay.”
Candace hung up and placed the phone back in her bag. The situation was serious, and it was fortunate that Phoebe had caught the problem before Candace traveled to the other side of the world. Not that she needed something else to deal with today, of all days. She had planned to spend only a few hours this afternoon working, updating herself about the swimsuit line’s orders from store buyers. Now she would have to channel everyone into dealing with a crisis.
She stepped outside and turned left to trot the two blocks over to the apartment. Ten minutes later, she stood under the shower jet in the marble bathroom, thinking through the problem.
The orders Phoebe had received were screwed up. One of the big department store buyers had asked for a very large number of a SwimZ design in red, in just the two smallest sizes. Another one had done the same in a different design in beige. Yet another order from a boutique called Water’s Edge looked extremely large for that vendor. Given the situation, it looked suspect to Phoebe and it didn’t make sense that the small boutique would order such a large inventory. Finally, a major department store buyer’s order had come in with small but lopsided numbers: they had only ordered just five of the twelve SwimZ designs, but only in size fourteen, and only in three dark colors: black, eggplant, and chocolate.
If one of the vendors’ orders had looked strange, the problem was likely in their purchasing system. Computerization had eliminated the routine tasks of many store buyers in recent years, but mistakes were still made from time to time. However, with several different orders coming in the way they had, it looked like an issue for SlimZ, not for the buyers. Was the problem in the SlimZ IT department, and if so, what else was wrong there? Or was it a problem on the sales side? What else was the sales team doing wrong? If any of the numbers were wrong when production was launched, mistakes would cost money—serious money.
A delay in production was not in the plan, and Candace couldn’t allow it to happen, especially since she was about to leave the country. Production of the SwimZ line simply could not come to a standstill for half a month. This mess had to be handled, and it had to be done today. The company could not afford any damage to its reputation, and neither could Candace, to hers. Not only that—her career itself could be at stake, as well as the company’s stock price. Everything she’d worked so hard for and everything she’d built could come crashing down if a solution wasn’t found and implemented immediately.
She toweled off and combed her hair, then threw on a pair of black stretchy slacks and a blue rayon long-sleeved top. Ginger should be calling her soon to patch her into the conference call. She picked up her iPhone and set it on the vanity in the bathroom, making sure the volume was turned on. She sat down and pulled an attached magnifying mirror out and began to apply her makeup.
Two minutes later, her phone rang. She answered the call and put it on speaker.
“I’m on,” she said. “Ginger? Who is on with us?”
“We’ve got Phoebe and Wendy here, Candace.”
Both employees said hello. “Okay,” said Candace, “tell me what you know, Phoebe.”
“Well, you saw my email—”
“Right. What have you learned since you wrote that?”
“Not all that much. Not yet, anyway,” said Phoebe.
No one spoke for a second. “Candace,” said Ginger, “Wendy found another problem: no orders at all in the textured navy.”
“That’s got to be wrong,” said Candace. “It’s one of the most popular fabrics we have. Elena Masters loved the maillot and the one-shoulder design in it.”
Elena was a twenty-eight-year-old up-and-coming actress who had grown up in Florida. After her breakout movie, she had been a regular celebrity at Fashion Week for the last four years. The textured fabric she had admired was a tightly woven lightweight in shades of dark blue, with a wavy look. It resembled a solid, but with its woven, uneven surface, hid flaws. Elena’s photo regularly graced the cover of popular fashion magazines, and her approval of the fabric all but guaranteed a big order.
No one spoke for a moment. Then Candace continued, “Perhaps we need to get Amanda’s people to contact all the buyers personally. She’s not arriving here until tomorrow. Wendy, go get her so we can include her on this call.”
“Um, I don’t think she’s in the office. I heard she was taking the day off,” Wendy said.
“What?” asked Candace. “That’s news to me. She’s due to fly to New York in the morning.”
“I don’t know what she’s doing,” said Phoebe. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Okay, look,” said Candace. “I’ll give her a call myself, after we hang up. For now, I want to know what else you’ve found.”
“Nothing, so far,” said Phoebe.
“Keep looking,” said Candace. “Ginger, I want you to manage this situation today, no matter how long it takes. And look into the replenishables from each buyer. If those are okay and we can eliminate everything except SwimZ orders, that would be helpful.”
Replenishables were stock items that were automatically ordered by the buyers once their inventories reached a certain level. For most of SlimZ store buyers, they included several versions of the flagship product, the longer legging undergarments, the bras, and the shaping camisoles.
“Phoebe, you look for Amanda, in case I’m unable to connect with her,” added Candace. “Get her involved in this immediately. I expect her to be there today until her side of these issues are investigated, and any problems she finds are resolved. Wedding or no wedding.”
“Candace,” said Ginger, “we’ll get this handled, whether it’s today or early next week. Your plans are set.”
“We’ll see,” said Candace. “I’m getting off the line now. You three stay on together and go over every piece of this puzzle. Then get it solved.”
“Got it,” said Ginger.
Candace hung up. The situation was bad—very bad—and it could be devastating. If Amanda was playing hooky after she’d claimed not to be able to fly up to New York today—and in the midst of a crisis—Candace would express her displeasure in the clearest possible terms.
She dialed Amanda’s number.
Jess opened the door to Beau’s new black Camry and got in. Just as she buckled her seat belt, she heard her cell phone vibrate in her purse and retrieved it. “Damn,” she said.
Beau glanced at his girlfriend before pulling onto Peachtree Road.
“Hello, Candace,” Jess said sweetly. Beau smiled at her quick reverse.
“Where’s Amanda?”
“Um, I don’t know, exactly. Why?”
“Wendy told me she wasn’t in the office today, and just now she didn’t pick up when I called her cell,” said Candace. “Have you heard from her?”
“No. Isn’t she on her way up there?”
“She’s supposed to come up tomorrow, but I need to reach her immediately. We’ve got a situation. I can’t have her going dark.”
“What’s the situation?”
Candace took a breath. “It seems Phoebe’s numbers on orders on the new line are wrong.”
“That’s not good,” said Jess, throwing Beau a worried look.
“No. It’s not good at all, and the timing isn’t great, either. Are you still in the office?”
“No, I’m in the car with Beau, on the way to the airport. We just got on eighty-five.”
“Well, you may have to turn around. I need you to track Amanda down.”
“Should I call her at home?”
“Yes, do that,” said Candace. “Then call her cell, and text her. I didn’t leave her a voicemail, but she should see that I called. If you don’t get her, leave her a message to call me right away.”
“Got it. Should I say what it’s about?”
“No. Just say that it’s imperative that she call me immediately.”
“What about my flight?”
“Keep driving to the airport. When you get there, text me and I’ll let you know.”
“Is the situation serious?”
“Yes,” said Candace. “It’s a colossal screwup, and Amanda’s side is one of the pieces.”
“Oh my God.”
“Right. Talk to you in a bit.”
Jess hung up and put the phone down. “What the fuck!”
“What is it?” asked Beau.
“Just a minute. I have to find Amanda’s home number.” She pulled up the WhitePages app on her phone and keyed in Amanda’s name. “Orders are screwed up, and Candace has to talk to her, pronto.”
“Or what?”
“Or I may not be going to New York. At least, not yet.”
“Jesus, Jess. Can’t someone else find her?”
“Apparently not. Wait. I think I found the number.” She touched the screen, then put the phone to her ear. After several seconds, she spoke. “Amanda, this is Jess. Candace is trying to reach you. She called your cell and needs you to call her back right away. I’m going to call your cell, too. Candace wanted me to tell you that it’s imperative that you call her immediately.” Jess hung up, then dialed Amanda’s cell.
Beau stared at the road ahead. “Good Lord.”
Jess listened for Amanda to pick up, then left the same basic message. Then she sent her a text. Turning to Beau, she said, “I’m supposed to text Candace when we get to the airport.”
“Why?”
“So she can let me know whether I’m going to get on this flight.”
“Ahh! What are we supposed to do, get a later one?”
“Possibly. Don’t freak out, though. If we have to, Candace will cover it.”
“What about tonight?”
“We’ll still go out.” Jess placed her hand on his shoulder.
“It’s just annoying.”
“Welcome to my life.”
A few minutes later, Beau took the exit for the airport and followed the signs to the South Terminal for Delta. “Why don’t you text Candace now?”
“Okay,” said Jess, her thumbs moving on the cell phone screen. “Done.”
“So I guess we park, then wait?”
Jess gave him a look. “What else can we do?”
He exhaled. “Jess, I—”
“Hey, I just thought of something.”
“What?”
“Candace’s brother. He’s kind of like a consultant for her, a behind-the-scenes guy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what? Are you gonna call him?”
Jess paused, thinking. “No. She’ll call him if she wants to talk to him. He’s not gonna know where Amanda is, anyway.”
Jess’s phone vibrated, signaling a text message. “She wants me to call her.”
Beau pulled into a parking space, stopped the car and listened.
“Hi, Candace,” said Jess.
“I haven’t heard from Amanda.”
“What if something’s wrong? Maybe she had an accident.”
Candace puffed. “Well, I guess that’s a possibility. Meanwhile, Ginger is on it from up here, and Phoebe is working on it in the office.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, I guess, at least not for now.”
“Candace, have you talked to your brother about it?”
“What?”
“I just thought—”
“What did you think, Jess?”
Jess swallowed. “Nothing. I mean, I know this is a production thing, probably not something he helps with.”
“What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t he do consulting for you? I know that’s not public knowledge, but—”
“Jess. No. My brother does not do anything to do with SlimZ. Why would you think that he does?”
Jess felt her shoulders stiffen. She looked over at Beau. “Because he told me he did.”
Candace took a sudden breath and paused. “When did he tell you this?”
Jess felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She blinked, then looked down. “A few months ago. I ran into him at a bar and he introduced himself. He told me you and he were close, and that he worked for you behind the scenes, but that you keep it quiet. He said you talk to him about everything that’s going on at the company.”
“Fuck! Jess, he lied to you!”
“Oh my God, Candace. I didn’t know. But—”
“Did you tell him about the new line?”
“He said he knew about it! At least, I think he did. I don’t remember exactly. He acted like he already knew.”
“He didn’t know, Jess. He’s got to be the person who leaked it to Woohoo.”
“Oh my God, Candace, I’m so sorry,” said Jess. Her eyes welled up with tears as fear overtook her body. Would she lose her job?
“What else did you tell him?”
�
��Candace, I had no idea he was—”
“I don’t talk to him about the company, and he’s not some kind of behind-the-scenes consultant!”
“I thought he was telling me the truth! He said—”
“I don’t care what he said. I know this is a dumb question, but did you give him my password?”
Jess cringed. “No, but—”
“But what?”
“But—well, the subject of passwords came up. He joked about you. He said you weren’t good with technology, and then I said something about—about how you liked to use a familiar word, spelled backwards.”
“Shit! Did you tell him what word?”
“No!”
“But he may have figured it out. Listen to me: you are never to discuss what I do, or anything to do with the company. Never! Do you understand?”
“Yes. I just thought—”
“I don’t care what you thought. Jess, I’ve trusted you with a lot of sensitive material—but obviously, I shouldn’t have. I cannot have you going around idiotically giving out clues about confidential information! You made a serious mistake when you assumed you could do that. On top of that, if my brother were involved in the company, I would have told you! You should have known that! You should have realized that someone who’s never even been to the office isn’t to be trusted!”
“Oh, God!” Jess was crying now.
“Look, we’ll discuss your employment when this is resolved. I’ve got to go. Sit tight and wait for my call.” Candace hung up.
Jess dropped the phone and wiped away tears. “I may be getting fired.” She looked over at Beau, whose face was white.
“No, baby. It’s not gonna happen. She depends on you too much.” He reached for her hand and held it, and with his other hand, gently brushed another tear away. “It’s gonna work out, I just know it.”
“Oh my God, Beau! I don’t know what I’m gonna do!”
Candace read the text she had just received from Ginger and took a moment to think. Everything was beginning to make sense, maybe. She’d had a feeling that Monty had been responsible for the leak, and now she had reason to believe she was right. He must have figured out that Jess was her assistant and stalked her, then pounced when he found an opportunity. Jess had believed his story and had given him a gift, stupidly talking about the new swimsuits and her password habits.
Underwater Page 22
