Part 3 (1/2)
But the man hadn't stopped there. He'd integrated several programs, made sense of scheduling, set reminders and generally made Connor's work life much more streamlined. Though Thompson didn't have the usual skills Connor looked for in an executive a.s.sistant, when an opening had occurred, he'd asked Thompson to apply for the position. What he hadn't known, he'd figured out, even putting himself through school in the evenings to earn a business degree.
Connor considered the hire one of his best decisions.
With a nod, he accepted the mug. He took a slug of the strong brew then shook his head to clear it. ”d.a.m.n. This could dissolve a spoon.”
”As I always say-”
”I know. I know. Only p.u.s.s.ies and ladies add cream or sugar.”
”And you are neither, Mr. Donovan.”
”So I'm told.” He choked down a second swallow.
”Fort.i.tude, sir. You'll be wide awake after finis.h.i.+ng it.”
”Or trembling badly enough that I'll measure on the Richter scale.” Ignoring the man's big grin, Connor nodded his thanks then continued through to his office, hoping to find a packet of sugar stashed somewhere.
His schedule lay neatly in the middle of the polished desk, and several pieces of paper were stacked next to it. When advertising campaigns required his signature for approval, he preferred to look at a printout rather than a computer image. There was something tactile about handling paper that appealed to him.
He placed his briefcase on the credenza and set down the cup of coffee, absently hoping the brew didn't chew through the ceramic and into the wood beneath.
Thompson had already opened the blinds, and all that was left for Connor to do was to add a splash of fresh water to the bamboo plant that had been a gift from his Aunt Kathryn. She was on a kick about the impurity of the building's air, and office by office, she was adding greenery. He had to admit he liked the potted plant, and he spent an inordinate amount of time relocating it so it had the best indirect sunlight and proper water. Over the past three months, it had grown four inches.
He grabbed the coffee then slid behind his desk to power up his computer and its screens. While he was waiting, he opened a drawer and riffled through pens and paper clips to finally find buried treasure, in the form of a sugar packet.
He ripped it open, poured in every granule then tried another sip.
It didn't help.
Giving up, he wadded the packet into a tiny ball so that Thompson wouldn't find it in the trash. Some knowledge was sacred.
He scanned the pages on his desk. He scribbled notes on a few, signed off on others. By the time the computer monitors were displaying the company's logo, he was ready to tackle the onslaught of weekly reports.
At noon, he joined his attorney for lunch then arrived back at Donovan Worldwide in time for the family meeting.
He entered the smallest of the conference rooms to find Aunt Kathryn, Erin and Nathan already there. No one noticed him. Kathryn was gazing out of the window, no doubt ignoring her niece and nephew while daydreaming about her upcoming Panama Ca.n.a.l cruise. Erin and Nathan were seated at the table. If their body posture was anything to go by, they'd been there for a while. Erin was speaking animatedly, waving her hands, while Nathan was leaning forward, a frown on his face.
”A corset store is a fad,” Nathan said when Erin took a breath. ”It won't last.”
”I disagree. Corsets and bustiers are enjoying a renaissance. There's huge demand for them. And there's not a better location than Kemah.”
The town wasn't far from Houston, close enough to be considered part of the metropolitan area. Situated on Galveston Bay, Kemah's boardwalk area had an amus.e.m.e.nt park, restaurants, specialty shops and boutiques that attracted tens of thousands of visitors annually. The right stores did well, Connor had no doubt.
”I'm not arguing that point,” Nathan replied. ”But correspondingly, rents are high. How many corsets would she need to sell per month to pay the bills and keep the lights on, not to mention the inventory and advertising?”
”Women go crazy for them,” she said. With a wicked glint in her eyes, she added, ”And some men, too.”
”It's too specialized. Even a boutique concept needs something more. Accessories. I don't know...”
”Toys? Vibrators and such?”
To his credit, Nathan didn't pick up that gauntlet. Instead he responded as a businessman. ”Bring me a projected profit and loss, show me the cost of goods sold and make sure the numbers work. Or go ahead and invest your own money. Even if you do that, I recommend you take a hard look at the realities of the business. Don't let your enthusiasm get in the way of a sound decision.”
”By that, you mean emotions.”
Before Nathan could respond, Connor cleared his throat. ”Hate to break up this argument...” Not that it was anything unusual. His family had a diverse range of interests, thoughts, opinions, pet projects. Including, seemingly, more plants. ”What's that?” He pointed at the oversized pot in the corner.
”Hibiscus,” Aunt Kathryn responded, turning around. ”I thought the peach blossoms would brighten up the s.p.a.ce. Needed something.”
Besides the bold, red painting on the back wall? ”Aren't they supposed to be outside?”
”Many people grow them indoors and they do well in pots as long as they're fertilized properly and kept out of direct sunlight. You can make a tea out of the blossoms. Calms the nerves.”
”You can muddle them into a mojito, too,” Erin supplied.
”I'm thinking of replacing this one with a peace lily.” She moved to a counter that held refreshments and a single-cup beverage maker. She brewed a cup of green tea, which she slid in front of Erin.
His sister wrinkled her nose.
”Drink it,” Kathryn said. ”And I mean it.”
Erin drew the cup closer.
”For you, Connor?” Kathryn asked. ”Coffee?”
”Ah, no. As it is, I'll be awake until well into the next century.”
”Thompson must have shared his coffee with you,” Erin surmised.
He nodded.
”I think he makes it strong to prove something about masculinity,” she said.
”I think it's more a statement about moral fort.i.tude,” Connor corrected, taking a seat.
”Tea for you?” Kathryn asked Nathan. ”Something nice and soothing?”
”Not in this lifetime. I'll have water.” He grabbed himself a bottle while Kathryn popped another tea pod in the brewer.
Connor joined Erin. One of his first acts as president had been to replace the more formal oblong conference table with a round one to encourage unity along with a less structured meeting hierarchy. Despite that, they all more or less sat in the same places, the Colonel to his right, Nathan to his left.
”Any word on Grandfather?” Erin asked.
Aunt Kathryn sat erect, shoulders pulled back as she allowed steam to waft across her face. Erin ignored her cup of tea. Nathan uncapped his bottle then reached for one of the agendas that had been piled in the middle of the table.
”He said he'd be here,” Connor replied. And the Colonel would no doubt keep his word, no matter how difficult the challenge. Since his stroke five months ago, he spoke more deliberately, moved slower and he used a cane. He was too d.a.m.n stubborn to use the walker the doctor had prescribed. He still went to see a physical therapist every day. No matter what the woman suggested, the Colonel did more. ”Other than Erin's corset shop, is there any new business?”
”About that,” Erin said. ”This isn't the first time one of us have had an idea rejected.”
”I didn't reject it,” Nathan countered.