Inevitable Inheritance

by Kade Charest

  Now it was Wednesday, eight in the morning. And here she was having makeup liberally applied by Marty, who was super excited to help her get ready. Taylor, on the other hand, had lain awake staring at the ceiling most of the night, her mind whirling like a helicopter propeller at the what ifs and all the questions of how she would handle the day ahead.

  When Marty was finished and Taylor’s under-eye bags—the ones that had been the size of Hefty bags just moments earlier—were no longer existent, Taylor smiled at her. “You are hired.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s nothing. I have been hiding bags under my eyes for years,” Marty replied. “Especially since Dad told me he was sick, it has totally messed with my sleep.”

  Taylor looked up in the mirror and watched as Marty was wrestling with her hair. They had decided that back and neat would make the best business approach. This was the first time that Marty had said anything about Simon and his cancer. Taylor was pretty certain that her wardrobe needs had proved to be a great distraction for the young Fletcher. She reached up and touched Marty’s arm, and Marty met Taylor’s eyes in the mirror. Marty had given everything to Taylor in the last few days, and though it may have helped her escape the reality of pain that was coming her way, Taylor still wanted to be there for her friend.

  “I’m so sorry he is sick, Marty,” Taylor said. What else could she say? “How are you doing with it all?”

  “Bad. It totally blows,” Marty said, her face becoming tight as she tried to maintain composure. “I just—” Marty’s voice cracked. She swallowed through it and continued, “I just don’t want to lose him, you know? But at the same time, I know he has suffered and he has lots of pain that he doesn’t talk about. He sat us down a few weeks ago and said no more, he doesn’t want extreme measures,” Marty hiccupped and tried to choke back the emotion, but now tears were streaming down her face, and she was wiping them away with the back of her hand.

  Taylor got up from the chair and embraced Marty. She hated seeing her sad; Marty was such a bright life, such a spark. It always made Taylor happy to think of Marty; when she was having a bad day and she needed something to cheer her up, she thought of how Marty seemed to spread joy with just her presence.

  “I’m going to mess you up,” Marty said into Taylor’s shoulder as she squeezed back, making no sign that she was going to let go.

  “I don’t care,” Taylor said. “My stylist will fix it.”

  Marty laughed in return and relaxed, releasing Taylor. “I would love to be your stylist. That would look awesome on a resume,” Marty said, grabbing a tissue from the vanity.

  “I told you, you’re hired. For real, because I cannot do this without you,” Taylor said.

  “Really, Taylor?” Marty asked, hopeful, smiling through the tears.

  Taylor grabbed Marty’s shoulders and gave them a little shake. “Hello! I told you: You are on the books!”

  Marty smiled broadly. “Oh my gosh!” Marty squealed, pulling Taylor into a tight happy hug “Thank you so much, Taylor!” Marty pushed Taylor back as quickly as she had hugged her. “Okay then, let’s get you looking fabulous because I cannot have my star and only client looking like anything but the best!”

  Marty went to work again, pulling Taylor’s golden locks into a complex chignon tucked at the base of her neck. From there she was smoothed and tucked, and finally alone. Marty had ran off to do or get something and Taylor was left to stare at herself in a floor-to-ceiling mirror. As Taylor took in her complete look, she felt once again like she was looking at a powerful woman of business. And she told herself she was.

  Caught up in staring, Taylor was startled when Derrick sidled up behind her in the mirror. She jumped a bit at the sight of him.

  “Hey, sexy business lady,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

  Taylor wanted to tell him to back off, and though she could have because they were alone, she was ashamed of herself finding comfort in his arms.

  “I don’t think I can do this, Derrick,” she whispered to him as she met his eyes in the mirror. Today was the day. All the behind-the-scenes crap she had been doing for the last several days had led up to this point. Now she wasn’t sure she could pull it off.

  Derrick turned his face into her hair, kissed her head, and then smiled at her in the mirror. “You got this. You are going to walk in there and wow them.”

  “But I need more than wow,” she whined softly. “I need know-how, and I just don’t have it. I don’t have any idea what the hell I am doing,” she said. Now the businesswoman in the mirror looked scared, and that scared Taylor because she knew feeling it on the inside and showing it on the outside was a dangerous combination.

  “Taylor, why do you think your granddad and your dad always brought you to work? They were showing you. You were absorbing it. That is how you learn best. You are a sponge, and I think—no, I know—that once you are in that meeting room with all those pompous asses you are going to show them that you aren’t just boss in name but that you know what the fuck you are doing.”

  Taylor smiled weakly at him. It was nice of him to pump her up, but she really didn’t believe any of it. The only thing she had on her side was the element of surprise because she had instructed Todd and Charlie to call a meeting, but not to inform anyone that she would be there. Of course, the rumors were flying, Todd and Charlie had reported, but they all thought she was still planning Cedric’s funeral.

  Derrick turned Taylor away from the mirror, forcing her to look at him. “You got this, Taylor,” he said. “I have to go, but—”

  “You aren’t coming with me?” Taylor asked and was slightly embarrassed at how shrilly her voice came out and how she had reached out to grab onto his forearm. He had been doing work stuff at his dad’s house so he could be with her, and though she was standing firm with the idea that she didn’t need him, she was finding herself dependent on his presence.

  Derrick shook his head at her, a small smile ghosting his lips, and he held her face in both of his hands. “No, I have to go and get ready for work at my place,” he said, gesturing to his jeans and T-shirt. “And you, Taylor, are going to prance into that boardroom and rock those management heads for a loop.”

  “Prance?”

  “Yes, prance,” Derrick said, kissing her furrowed brow. “I will walk you downstairs. Henry is waiting,” he said with a slightly disgusted tone.

  Taylor didn’t know what Derrick’s issue was with Henry, but she had more pressing matters at hand.

  “I’m not ready,” Taylor said, planting her feet to the floor.

  “Yes you are,” Derrick said and gave her a tug that had her stumbling to the door with him.

  On the way by the night table, Taylor grabbed her phone and was walking down the stairs clutching Derrick’s hand within in seconds.

  The household staff was up and about, and they all stopped as she walked by. She was too nervous to curve her face into a smile, so instead she just said “Hello” and “Good morning” as she passed by, looking down. Her mother had drilled into her head that treating all people with respect was worth more than all the money in her trust fund, and Taylor agreed.

  At the front door, Derrick walked Taylor out to a limo, where Henry stood at the passenger’s side door. Henry was dressed another well fitted suit, and if anything was concealed beneath it, it was concealed well.

  “Good morning, Ms. Preston, Mr. Fletcher,” Henry said to them.

  “Please call me Taylor,” Taylor asked him for the umpteenth time in exasperation. She would be Ms. Preston’d to death today; for now she wanted to still be Taylor. Actually, she still wanted to be Libby, the girl in the coffee shop whose biggest issue was remembering the coffee patrons’ specifications. But that world was gone.

  “Prance like you own the place, Taylor, cause you do,” Derrick said, kissing her forehead before he helped her into the limo. Henry slid in after her, and then the door was shut, and she was driving away from the Fletcher mansion.

 
She had done the drive in limos to the office hundreds of times. It had always been fun to go to “work” when it wasn’t her actually working, but now the butterflies in her stomach were causing her indigestion with all their flapping about what could, and most likely would, go wrong today.

  As they made their way into the skyscrapers and mega complexes of LA, Taylor zoned out. She was checking everything out—people walking, cars driving, doors opening and closing, and then she saw paparazzi crowding the front of a building and realized that it was Preston Corp.

  “We aren’t going in that way,” Henry said, seeming to sense Taylor’s apprehension, and she let out a big breath.

  “How are we getting in?”

  “We are using the garage,” Henry replied.

  “Huh, I didn’t know we had one,” Taylor said, taking in the information. She was glad the paparazzi didn’t notice her limo because there were a plethora of them roaming around the city at this time. “How do they know I am here?”

  Henry shook his head. “They don’t. They have camped here since they heard of Cedric Preston’s death.”

  Suddenly the limo was plunged into darkness, and Taylor was aware that she was doing this, really doing this, really going in there and officially introducing herself as the president of Preston Corp. The thought was so repetitive, but it felt like a dream, a bad dream.

  As the car pulled to a stop, Henry moved to open the door, and when Taylor scooted to make her way out, Henry stopped her. “You stay here until I tell you it’s safe, Taylor.”

  “Okay,” Taylor said meekly. She felt odd as she watched him exit the car, pull something from his coat, and circle the limo. Then she saw him meet with two other men and give them instructions, pointing, and then the men dispersed.

  Henry came back and opened the door. “It’s safe,” he said and held out his hand to help her out.

  Taylor felt she was no sooner out of the car than she was whisked into an elevator about five feet away and wedged between Henry and two other men. All the men were standing stock still, looking straight ahead at the door.

  “Uh, hello. I’m Taylor,” Taylor said to the two big men flanking her.

  “Mick,” said the big blond to the right.

  “Sammy,” said the big tan bald man to her left.

  “Well, I am glad we are now more comfortable with each other,” she joked, trying to release not just the tension in the elevator car, but also the tension overwhelming her whole body.

  The men smiled at her comment, and Taylor let out a breath.

  When the door opened she wanted to stay where she was, but instead they moved together as a unit, out and down a large hallway. Taylor could not really see around Henry, so she just went along, trying to ignore the nagging voice in her head that was telling her she couldn’t do this, she had no idea what she was doing, and that this was a failure waiting to happen.

  She was about to turn and run back to the elevators, when she heard a loud voice booming out from a room down the hall.

  “Wait.” Taylor said and every man stopped. Taylor wanted to hear this, she was certain, and she moved herself around Henry to get a better earful.

  “It is ridiculous that we are just going to let some spoiled child take over a multibillion-dollar company that we have been running just fine on our own for years now!”

  “Rich, she is—”

  “Going to ruin this company!” Rich responded. From her study session, Taylor was willing to bet Rich was Mr. Richard Tappen, chairman of the housewares industry of Preston. “And we are supposed to just let her come in here. We’re supposed to just kiss her ass! Well, I won’t do it!”

  Something lit inside Taylor. She had heard enough. She strode forward and into the room, where everyone was looking in the opposite direction at a man who was red in the face. He had a head full of silver hair, and he was standing with his hands braced on top of a large boardroom table.

  “You are absolutely right, Mr. Tappen. You won’t be kissing my ass or letting a spoiled child run this company.”

  Every head in the room turned and stared at Taylor, and Richard Tappen’s face went from red to gray and ill looking at the speed of light.

  “But let me assure all of you that ass-kissing would be futile, and I am well above age to be considered a child.”

  Tappen straightened himself and cleared his throat. “Ms. Preston, I did not mean—”

  “Have a seat, Mr. Tappen,” Taylor clipped. She didn’t want to pass out forgiveness just yet; she had to get a better feel for people first.

  Obediently, Tappen took his seat.

  “I understand that this corporation has been lacking a figurehead for some time, but I am here to change that,” she said, standing tall, feeling like the confident woman she had seen in the mirror. The words she had just heard, the way everyone was looking at her, and the possessiveness she felt for the company left her no other option.

  “I know you have all been here through it all, working hard. And now I am here to say thank you because together we move forward. Today I will meet with each department head, and we will discuss what is going on with each division and what needs to be fixed. I have three projects that I have decided are top priorities for this company, including updating some of our biggest hotels—”

  “With all due respect, Ms. Preston, that isn’t how things are done,” a salt-and-pepper-haired African American man said.

  “Well, Mr. Jones, it is how things are going to be done now,” Taylor replied smoothly. “Todd, would you please pass out the packets?”

  Todd and Charlie handed out the packets to each board member. She had to hand it to those two, they may have stolen her back, but they were on it when she asked for stuff.

  “You have in front of you a severance packet,” Taylor said, and the intake of breath was audible in most of the group. “This is voluntary. Preston Corp. is going back to old-school. My grandfather and father had their hands in every aspect of this department; they knew the ins and outs, and this company excelled. So that is what I intend to do. After we meet, if you decide that the direction is not what you want, you can sign the paperwork in here and walk away. However, you only have twenty-four hours to return this. Also, if you have any deals of buying and purchasing in the works, I suggest you put the brakes on them now before they hear from some other source that Preston Corp. is not buying at the moment.”

  The outbursts were unreal.

  But Taylor held up her hands and silenced them at once. Powerful, she thought to herself. “Charlie, can I have the pictures please?” she said. A screen was dropped behind her, and the awful hotel suites started to slideshow past. “We have issues in house that need to be rectified before we take on any more. We will show the public, our employees, and our consumers that we take care of the things we build and market. And believe me, I do care, and I take care of what is mine. If that isn’t part of your plan, then fine. But sign the contract and don’t waste my time, because I have a corporation to bring up to date with the help of strong and committed people.”

  Some people smiled in response, some sulked, and others remained stone-faced.

  “So, first I am meeting with Lauren,” she announced, meeting the eyes of the woman in charge of the hotel division. “Everyone else please cancel deals and get things ready to be discussed. Charlie and Todd will be letting you know what time I plan on meeting with you all.”

  As Taylor finished speaking, the executives started to move, taking direction very well. Everyone cleared the room except Lauren who stayed seated. She had been one of the ones smiling.

  It was going to be okay, Taylor thought.

  “Morning, Lauren,” Taylor said as she grabbed an iPad Todd had brought in for her and sat next to her. “Let’s take care of these hotels, shall we?” Taylor asked, and Lauren smiled broadly and nodded enthusiastically.

  And for the first time, all Taylor could think was, I got this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Derrick entered
Preston Corp. and was all too happy to go through security gates. He was glad Taylor had let Henry go all out, but he still didn’t like him.

  Derrick had wanted to call or text Taylor all day, but he didn’t want her to think that he didn’t believe in her, so he waited. He also knew, though, if she wasn’t interrupted she wouldn’t eat, and who was going to tell the new boss to take a break? So he had cleared his schedule at two, figuring that would allow Taylor enough time to get through the major stuff she had wanted to focus on.

  Getting through the paparazzi had been ridiculous. The second they saw him, he was surrounded, but he just kept walking forward. He wasn’t sure if Taylor was aware, but they were totally in the know about their engagement—thanks to Marty, of course. It wasn’t hard to believe. Who else would she be posting a picture of an engagement ring about after leaving his penthouse?

  “How did you propose?”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “How big is the ring?”

  Derrick ignored everything and stayed stone-faced, making his way into the building and up to Taylor’s floor.

  As Derrick exited the elevator, he was aware of people looking at him, and he used his lifelong expertise to ignore them. He saw two huge guys outside of the boardroom and headed that way.

  “This will work,” he heard Taylor say. “We will start with the factories. The whole staff area needs to be redone, and then we can start on the materials. All the reviews point to poor craftsmanship, and that is starting with our people. Make them happy.”

  Derrick smiled and strolled into the room. The man Taylor was talking to was writing furiously and noticed nothing, and Taylor was too engrossed in pictures and charts to notice his presence. So he cleared his throat.

  Taylor looked up and smiled hugely at him. “Hi!” she said, and her eyes were alive with excitement. She was the Taylor who got the two of them in trouble. She was enjoying herself, and she was in her element.