Too Close to Touch (6 page)

One odd discovery Kylie had made during her covert perusal of her boss’s décor had been the two framed photos on Gretchen’s desk. They seemed to be the only personal items in the entire room and both faced Gretchen’s chair, as if they were not meant for public consumption.

Kylie had had to walk around behind the desk to see them.

One was an older picture of a family of four: a man and a woman in their Þ fties or sixties, the man’s dark eyes and chiseled jaw line telling Kylie he could be none other than Gretchen’s father, along with a tightly smiling Gretchen and a younger man Kylie assumed was her brother. In the other picture a much more relaxed version of Gretchen was with a smiling, handsome man of about Þ fty. Both were wearing sombreros and holding up large margaritas in salute toward the camera.

Gretchen’s cheeks were rosy and there was a sparkle in her eyes; she looked like she was laughing out loud. Kylie was struck by the contrast between the two photos. Gretchen could have been two different people, one the boss Kylie saw every day, and the other a more playful and vibrant woman. Kylie liked that there might actually be more to her new boss than seriousness and concentration.

Yet again rehearsing what she was planning to say about the sales reps, she took a seat in one of the maroon fabric-covered chairs in front of Gretchen’s enormous mahogany desk, perched her pad on her knee, and waited for Gretchen to Þ nish typing whatever it was she was working on. Charts, graphs, and computer reports were strewn all over the desk’s surface. A long-cold mug of coffee sat on a leather coaster near the keyboard.

Gretchen’s brow furrowed with concentration as she switched from her computer keyboard to a large adding machine, then back, her lips pursing and un-pursing as she thought about her task. Kylie watched Gretchen’s hands as she typed, admiring them. They were small and feminine, but looked strong, like Gretchen could go from typing or applying make-up to climbing a ladder or swinging a hammer

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GEORGIA BEERS

without missing a beat. She’d taken off her black suit jacket and tossed it over the back of her chair, the red short-sleeved shell giving Kylie her Þ rst view of Gretchen’s bare arms. Her smooth, porcelain skin looked impossibly soft, and Kylie was embarrassed to realize she wanted to touch it, to test its softness with her Þ ngertips. She swallowed and quickly looked down at her pad as Gretchen Þ nished what she was doing.

“So. I noticed you had lunch with the reps yesterday.” Gretchen leaned her forearms on the desk and focused serious eyes on Kylie.

Kylie nodded, wondering when Gretchen had seen the group of them. “They had a few tables in the cafeteria and asked me to join them.”

“I don’t suppose they were happy about the meeting.”

“Um, no.”

“And how many calls have you gotten from them today?”

At that, Kylie chuckled. “A few.”

“They’re going to try to get you ‘on their side,’ you know.” She made quotation marks in the air with her Þ ngers. “They think I’m the Snow Queen or something.”

Kylie pressed her lips together and nodded again.
Actually, it was
Cruella De Vil.
The woman obviously knew what kind of reputation she conveyed. Kylie made no comment.

Gretchen laced her Þ ngers together and leaned her chin on them, studying Kylie for several long seconds. Arching one eyebrow, she stated simply, “You think I was too hard on them.”

A dozen responses leapt into Kylie’s mind and she opened her mouth to speak in her own defense. Something in Gretchen’s gaze wouldn’t allow her to settle on anything but the truth, however. She let out a breath. “Yeah. I do.”

“How so?”

“What do you mean?”

“How was I too hard on them?”

Kylie squirmed slightly in her chair, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “I…maybe…” She had no idea how to phrase what she wanted to say without sounding completely out of line, and she felt some resentment begin to bubble at being put on the spot. She stammered instead, “Um…”

Gretchen sighed. “Just spit it out. It’s not rocket science. What would you have done differently?”

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

“I think…” Kylie cleared her throat. “I think you could have been a little nicer.”

Gretchen seemed to absorb the statement and nodded slowly. “A little nicer.”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.” Gretchen continued to nod, but her gaze hardened.

“First of all, I’m not here to be nice. If a few blunt words are all it takes to make Roxy cry, she needs to grow some thicker skin.” Gretchen sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Second, their numbers are way down and they all need to get their shit together. This isn’t high school.

It’s the real world and they need to start acting like grown-ups.”

Kylie felt herself becoming defensive and didn’t like it. After all, she’d worked with these people a lot longer than Gretchen had. “You don’t even know them. They’re the best sales team on the east side of the country, Gretchen. They’re good salespeople.”

She knew she might have crossed a line when she saw Gretchen’s eyes ß ash. “Are they?” Gretchen asked. “Have you seen this report?”

She tossed one of the computer printouts in Kylie’s direction.

Kylie tried to backpedal a bit. “Look, I don’t mean to step on your toes or anything. I’m just not sure I agree with how you handled things yesterday. This group is just used to…” She grasped for the right words.

“Jim. They’re used to Jim.”

“Yeah.”

“He babied them, Kylie. He gave them no discipline, no goals.”

Kylie felt her temperature rising at the slight against her old boss and fought to keep it down. Gretchen obviously didn’t understand the point. “No. No, he didn’t baby them. But he was gentler. They liked him. He was
nicer
.” That last word sounded snide and it slipped out before she could catch it.

If Gretchen was fazed, she hid it well. “Well, I’m not Jim.”

“I know that.”

“Nice only goes so far in the corporate world.” Gretchen pointed at the report again, which Kylie had yet to glimpse at. “Look at the bottom line, Kylie. This region is down nearly thirty-Þ ve percent from last year. And twenty percent from the year before.”

Kylie blinked at the numbers. Thirty-Þ ve percent? That didn’t sound right. Wouldn’t Jim have told her if they were that far off?

“You haven’t even seen that report, have you?” Gretchen asked as if

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GEORGIA BEERS

reading Kylie’s mind. Her voice registered a note of triumph. Apparently she’d suspected that Kylie wasn’t privy to all the information. “Kylie.”

Her deep voice reverberated in the pit of Kylie’s stomach, forcing her eyes up. Gretchen spoke carefully, but with granite resolve. “It was time for Jim to retire.” She waited a couple minutes, let Kylie absorb the meaning of that statement, and then continued. “Those numbers?

They’re why I was hired…to get them back up. And they’re why he was pushed out early.”

Jim took a forced retirement?
Kylie didn’t want to believe that she’d been so completely out of the loop with a man she admired so much. She looked up into Gretchen’s rich brown eyes and hoped to see them soften with understanding. They didn’t. If anything, they seemed colder.

“I can’t have my EAA second-guessing me. It’s counterproductive and makes my job harder.”

Kylie nodded, her face warming.

“Not to mention, it pisses me off.”

“I’m sorry.” Kylie’s voice was tiny and she dropped her eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’m aware that the reps don’t like the way I spoke to them yesterday, but you know what?” Gretchen dipped her head so she could catch Kylie’s eye again and bring her gaze back up. “I don’t care. My job is to increase the bottom line. I’m not here to be their friend or yours. I don’t really care if any of you like me. That’s not my concern.

Do you think Margo Wheeler cares whether Jason Bergman thinks I’m a bitch?”

Kylie shook her head.

“No. She cares what that number at the bottom of that report says.

If it’s too low, she hears about it. And you know what they say about shit rolling downhill. The next one down from her is me, and I happen to have a nice wardrobe. I don’t like the idea of getting crap all over it.”

Gretchen inhaled and let out her breath slowly, tilting her head to the side as she regarded Kylie. “Kylie, I think you’re a great EAA.

I’m really glad that I ended up with you as my assistant. You’ve made things easier already and I’ve been here less than two weeks. I know Jason can be a squeaky wheel, as can most salespeople, but you can’t let him browbeat you. And, God damn it, if he’s got an issue with me, you tell him to be a man and bring it to
me
. He may not like my methods.

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TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

You
may not like my methods. But his opinion doesn’t matter to me and frankly, neither does yours. My job is to increase the sales of this region. That’s why I’m here and that’s what I’m going to do. I’d rather have your help than have you working against me, but it’s your choice.”

She paused for effect. “Am I making myself clear?”

Kylie swallowed, knowing her face was ß aming hot and hating it.

She nodded, feeling small.

“Good.” Gretchen sat back again and waved Kylie off like a ß y, ending the discussion. “Go home. Eat something and get some rest.

We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Kylie stood, clutching her pad to her chest, and beelined to her cubicle without looking back. She didn’t want Gretchen to see the tears that, much to her dismay, had Þ lled her eyes. Painfully embarrassed, she packed up in record time and walked down the hall and out the employee entrance, wanting only to get to her car as quickly as possible. She was determined not to cry and annoyed that it was even a possibility. All she wanted was to get home and hug Rip. He had always understood when she was frustrated, his loving blue eyes reß ecting his unconditional love for her.

At the realization that he wouldn’t be waiting, she stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the nearly empty parking lot. Only then did a tear spill over and roll silently down her cheek.

• 47 •

• 48 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

CHAPTER FIVE

Gretchen sipped her Pinot Grigio and stared out the window of the restaurant at the people walking up and down Park Avenue. It certainly wasn’t Manhattan, but as smaller cities went, it was nice. The population seemed fairly diverse. A young, obviously gay couple was followed a few feet back by a man and woman in their sixties, holding hands. Many people were walking dogs, anxious to get out into the much-awaited spring weather. Gretchen enjoyed the simple act of people-watching, sipping her wine in complete relaxation. It was a state she didn’t reach often.

Activity on the street was beginning to pick up with the promise of summer. Just in the three weeks she’d lived in Rochester, Gretchen had already seen it. The number of people seemed a little higher; the shops seemed a little brighter and seemed to stay open a little later. It even smelled like summer was coming.

Taking note of the small outdoor tables, Gretchen decided that once May’s evening chill left the air, she’d sit outside and dine. She glanced at her watch and noted with a smile that Pete was late, as usual.

It had grated on her nerves when they were married, but now she just chalked it up as a Pete-ism and shrugged her indifference with an
oh,
well, that’s Pete
resignation. If you didn’t expect to have to wait for Pete, you didn’t know him very well.

They were meeting at six thirty. At precisely six Þ fty, Pete strolled through the front door. Gretchen waved at him. He exchanged smiling words with the hostess, then crossed the room and met Gretchen at her table, giving her a warm, tight hug as she stood to greet him. As her face brushed his shirt, the spicy aroma of his cologne hit her senses

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GEORGIA BEERS

and she was swept momentarily into her past, remembering when their bathroom smelled of that same scent and how much she’d adored it.

She’d purchased it for him every Christmas for the six years they were together.

“Right on time, as always,” she teased.

“I just wanted you to be sure to get a glass of wine in you before I got here,” he teased back as they sat. “God, it’s good to see you. What’s it been? Last summer? I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Last summer at your cottage,” Gretchen replied, feeling more content than she had in several days. She smiled, hoping to convey the warmth in her heart. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“I’m so happy that you moved up here. We’re practically neighbors now.” His blue eyes twinkled with excitement, making him appear much younger than his Þ fty years despite the gray at his temples.

“How’s Allyson?” Gretchen asked, making eye contact with the waiter in order to get Pete a drink. He zipped over quickly and took the request.

“She’s wonderful. She sends her love and says to Þ nd out when you can come over for dinner.”

Gretchen laughed at the generosity of Pete’s wife. “I’ve been here barely three weeks and I’ve already got a dinner invitation.”

Pete narrowed his eyes at her in a mock threat. “Don’t make her call you about it. Check your schedule and give her a date. She really wants to see you. She was annoyed that she couldn’t make it tonight. I keep telling her you’re Þ ne, but you know how she is. She needs to see you with her own eyes.”

Gretchen inclined her head, conceding his point as the waiter arrived to set down Pete’s glass and take their orders. Much as she liked to be witty and snide, she considered Allyson off-limits. She was just too sweet and caring, and she treated Gretchen like a big sister.

Gretchen was well aware of how lucky she was to have two caring friends like Pete and Allyson. Most people had trouble believing that she’d actually been married to Pete. They’d parted more than twenty years ago, but so much of their time together was burned lovingly into her brain that it sometimes seemed to have happened last week.