A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (16 page)

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Authors: Janet Dailey

BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
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Chapter 9
S
itting down for what felt like the first time in days, Jon didn’t get right to work. He watched random, preprogrammed graphics flow on the flat screen of his computer for awhile, not wanting to touch a key and get going, needing a few minutes to decompress and actually think. He knew damn well there would be more than a hundred e-mails waiting to be read and dealt with, all marked URGENT. Very few were.
Someone from Accounts Payable had left a memo on his desk. He glanced at it as he loosened his tie. It was only a silent scream for everyone to get expense accounts in before the end of the year. That too could wait for a bit.
If you weren’t careful, running a company could swallow your life. He’d done that for too many years, traveling constantly, drumming up business. It had paid off: Nash & Thomas was finally in the big-time.
They had several shops in Manhattan and would open two more in Brooklyn’s trendy neighborhoods next year. N&T, their spin-off company, supplied cakes and sweets for over a hundred fine restaurants and three major department stores in the city, and was looking into franchising a line of products for a nationwide supermarket chain.
Clouds were rolling over the December sky. Not ominous, just depressing. Jon turned away from the window of his corner office. That particular perk didn’t thrill him like it used to.
Fred Nash, the founder, had taken a larger but windowless space when they’d moved the company into this building—Fred didn’t care about things like corner offices. Even though he’d founded the business, hiring Jon a year later, he didn’t stand on ceremony. Anybody could walk into his office. Jon understood why. Once you shut the door, you were alone. He’d gotten in the habit of leaving his open.
Fred knocked on it as he breezed into Jon’s office. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you to come back this late in the day.”
“I have a lot of work to do. What’s up?”
Fred smiled. “I left you a sample box. Did you open it?”
“No. Which one do you mean?”
The older man located Maureen’s samples and set the small box precisely in the center of Jon’s desk, tapping it with a stubby finger. “A nice young lady came this afternoon, brought these. Best goodies I’ve tasted since I was baking them myself.”
“Really? That was a long time ago.”
Fred nudged the box toward Jon. “I’m telling you, you need to check these out.”
“All right, all right.”
He took a fork from others in a container on his desk that had never held pens and pencils. The business had been founded on taste, after all.
Fred opened the box for him and hovered. Jon was used to it.
He started with what seemed to be a spice cake. “Hey, that one is good.” He took another bite. “Upgrade that. It’s fantastic. Just the right balance of spice flavors.”
“Try the babka. A mouthful of heaven.”
Jon sampled it. “You’re right. It’s phenomenal.”
“And there’s one more.”
“Walnuts, huh?” Jon looked at the last piece. “The health option.” He tasted it. “Pretty good. So who is this young lady? ”
“She used to own a bakery. Icing On The Cake. Heard the name?”
“Yes, I think so. But you still haven’t told me her name.”
Fred paused for dramatic effect. Jon was used to that too.
“Maureen Fulton is the young lady. She’s something special—I can tell.” Fred was only warming up. “Gentle but strong. A hard worker but with a soul. Beautiful but... beautiful. ”
“Fred. I’m not looking for a date. Please.”
“You’re too old for dating, Jonathan.”
“Thanks,” the younger man answered acidly. “Jot that down on a sticky note and I’ll put it on my shaving mirror. Who asked you?”
Fred didn’t believe in shutting up. “I’m old enough that I don’t care who asked me. I say what I think.”
“Let’s get it over with,” Jon groaned. He folded his arms over his chest. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing about you,” Fred said indignantly. “We talked, she told me about herself—she knows the business, Jon. So I told her to come back in January and we’d take it from there. You two almost crossed paths. In fact, maybe you saw her going out. Lavender coat? Blond hair?”
Jonathan sat bolt upright. “I did see her. She went by me like a cool breeze. She made these?”
“Our holiday orders are already coming in. We can’t buy more now.”
“Too bad. We could sell the hell out of these all over town.”
Fred raised a disapproving eyebrow. “Just so you know, Maureen Fulton does not look like the kind of woman who swears.”
“Whatever. I’m not looking for an angel either,” Jon shot back.
His partner raised his hands in an I-give-up gesture. Jon knew he wouldn’t.
“Just call her in January. Is that too much to ask? Find out for yourself if I’m wrong about her.” Fred tossed Maureen’s business card on his partner’s desk.
“I will,” Jon said. Not because Fred was pressuring him to. Because he remembered her.
“Good. She’s one in a million, in my opinion. And I didn’t get rich by making a lot of mistakes. You neither.”
 
 
Several blocks to the south on Third Avenue, Nicole had arrived at the glittering building that housed the North American headquarters of ENJ.
“I am so nervous,” she said to Finn.
“Why?”
“Can’t you guess? This is my first meeting with Kevin Talley!”
“He saw you the night of the flagship store fiasco, didn’t he? So technically this is your second meeting.”
She ignored his reassurance. “Flagship store fiasco,” she muttered distractedly. “Sounds like one of those crazy bands you listen to. Didn’t they play at McCarren Pool?”
“Ha. Calm down.”
“I can’t. Finn, he hardly looked at me that night. But don’t remind him that I was there. Don’t you remember that grubby tank I had on, and that filthy bandanna?”
“No. You always look fine to me. You look fine now.”
“Spoken like a guy.”
She was grateful to him for it. Nicole had agonized about what to wear, settling for a subdued gray fitted suit that didn’t call any attention to her. It matched. It wasn’t missing any buttons. She’d paired it with gray suede heels that were startlingly sexy because her plain pumps had seemed too shabby. Her dark hair had been brushed to glossy smoothness. She flipped it back over one shoulder.
“Anyway, this is the first meeting,” she insisted.
“Have it your way, Nicole. All he really knows about you is what he saw in your portfolio. And he liked it a lot. Wait until he sees the new, improved one.”
“He’ll probably hate it,” she said dolefully.
“I don’t think so.” Finn took the portfolio from her hand and opened the glass door. A cavernous, chilly marble lobby lay beyond, staffed by building security officers behind a sweep of teak.
They signed in and each received a stick-on tag, then passed through a gleaming electronic turnstile to get to the elevators.
Nicole smoothed hers onto her portfolio and took it back from Finn. Once they were in the elevator, he looked into the polished metal control panel and ran an indifferent hand over his red hair.
“You look fine too,” she told him.
“Who cares? I’m not going to be the star of this show.”
Nicole clutched the portfolio handles until her knuckles showed white.
“Relax.” The bell rang for their floor. She flinched.
Finn gave her a grin Nicole didn’t think was funny at all. “Come on. Showtime!”
“Stop saying things like that.”
He patted her shoulder. “Turn right.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“I never got as high as this floor.” They waited outside a glass wall until the receptionist buzzed them through. Both of them looked around at the austere decor. Beige silk was stretched taut over the walls. No artwork. A niche held a sculpture consisting of a single, gigantic rusty nail, lit from above. Nicole wondered silently what it meant.
The matching beige carpet underfoot was so thick she could feel herself sinking in slightly.
The receptionist, who didn’t introduce herself, spoke suddenly, breaking the hushed silence. “Mr. Talley and the visual team are waiting for you in the conference room.”
It was kind of creepy that she seemed to know their names without their having said anything. That wasn’t the only reason Nicole was uneasy. No one had said anything to her about meeting the visual team.
“Thank you,” Finn said cheerily. Nicole hoisted her portfolio, wishing she’d had one last chance to look in a mirror.
The only other sound was a button being clicked on the phone. No doubt the receptionist was summoning a person to bring them there.
Good guess.
“Alonzo will show you the way,” the receptionist said. “He’s Mr. Talley’s personal assistant.”
In another minute, a young blond guy appeared, dressed all in black but wearing beige suede shoes that exactly matched the carpet. They gave him the appearance of being barefoot.
Not a bad idea. She wouldn’t have minded kicking off her heels.
“Come with me, please,” Alonzo murmured. He brought them to a glass-walled conference room that seemed to be filled with people, also dressed in black. Nicole did a hasty head count. Not quite filled. There were only seven of them, five women and two men.
Nicole lagged behind, forcing Finn to slow down so she could whisper to him.
“Finn, what’s going on? You told me it was going to be just you and me and Talley.”
Finn finally looked a little nervous himself. “That’s what Talley said last time he called. Obviously that’s the visual team.”
“They look more like the Alpha Centauri high command,” she whispered.
Finn took a second look. “You have a point. I didn’t know shoulder pads and spiky hair were back. ”
Each outfit was different. Each seemed calculated to intimidate in a different way. “Me neither,” she whispered.
“Nicole, just ignore all that and wing it. Don’t worry so much.”
She was about to hiss at him when Finn opened the door. “Mr. Talley, this is Nicole Young.”
She went in ahead of him.
Kevin Talley rose and shook her hand. “I’d like you all to meet a rising star,” he told the team. He didn’t bother to mention who they were. They were much too cool to wear name tags.
The assembled group looked daggers at her. Nicole quailed for a moment, then walked to a chair near Talley’s at the head of the table.
The men were nearly as thin as the women. They seemed to have been at the conference table for a while—there were tall cups at each chair. Five were marked with blood-red lip prints. Fortunately, Nicole saw only coffee in the cups, blacker than the clothes they wore.
She reminded herself that every member of Talley’s team had once been someone’s sweet little baby. They’d never had enough to eat, that was all. There was nothing wrong with any of them that a fat hamburger wouldn’t cure. She could use one herself after this was over.
Alonzo was listening very carefully to an almost inaudible request from Kevin Talley.
“Yes, sir. The usual? Double shot of extra-strong espresso in dark roast with a dash of soya skim? Right away, sir.”
Flunkies that good were born, not made. But Nicole still felt sorry for him.
Something told Nicole that Alonzo didn’t have to go out to the nearest fancy coffee place to get it. There was probably a sleek machine pumping it out for upper management in a room of its own.
She was right. Alonzo was back in less than a minute. He set the cup down at Talley’s side. The CEO ignored it.
“Okay. Do we all have our favorite beverages?”
There was a murmured chorus of yeses.
“Then let’s begin. Our holiday week-to-date numbers in all categories are pathetic. We need a new direction. When Finn—I take it you all know Finn Leary—happened to show me this girl’s portfolio, I was thrilled.”
Someone coughed.
“I brought Nicole Young in today to help us brainstorm. Now, Nicole, I know this is a bit of a surprise, and you may even feel like I’m throwing you to the wolves.” He chuckled. “But that’s not the case at all.”
Seven pairs of unblinking eyes fastened on her. It was the case. Only Finn and Talley were on her side.
“So here’s what we’re going to do. I came up with a concept I thought was pretty good. I even ran it by the wife, and she gave it a thumbs-up. I’m just going to throw it out here and I want everyone, absolutely everyone, to give me a completely honest opinion.”
A silence fell that made Nicole want to run and hide.

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