Part 15 (2/2)
They clinked and drank. Isabella pa.s.sed trays of desserts-all of them covered with, filled with, or made of chocolate-with commendable restraint and only a few bobs and curtsies and one lamentable, ”Bottoms up then!”
Edward was pleased at the increasing ease with which the women who'd become regulars interfaced.
”I want to thank all of you for coming to Barnes and n.o.ble tonight,” Claire said over her raised gla.s.s. ”I was thrilled that you took the time to come out and I appreciate you buying my books. I think you saved me from what would have been a horrible ordeal.”
”Is she talking about the seals?” Mimi Davenport asked putting a hand up to cup her ear.
”No, Mrs. D,” Isabella said. ”She said ordeal!”
Claire aimed a smile at Brooke and Samantha. Edward was glad to see that she'd guessed who'd organized the evening. He'd been watching the three women begin to bond over the past weeks and thought Samantha Davis, Brooke Mackenzie, and Claire Walker made an interesting combination.
”It meant a huge amount to me that you came. And I think the customer relations manager was pretty relieved, too.” Claire raised her gla.s.s to her lips and took a long drink.
Edward watched the women fall into chattering groups. In less than a week they'd screen the last program of season one. Then it would be on to the second season. His uncle had tried to tempt him again with a sneak peek at season three, but Edward looked forward to watching it here in January. Hopefully with this same group.
Slowly the room began to empty. As Isabella and James began to tidy up, Samantha Davis turned back from the doorway and came over to speak with him. ”I wanted to thank you for organizing the spread.” She nodded to the table where Isabella and James were packing up what remained of the desserts and bottles of champagne. ”I was glad we had such a good turnout.”
”Yes, you certainly know your way around a, what did you call it, a phone tree?” Edward said.
”Everyone has to be good at something.” Samantha laughed. ”You can't serve on as many committees as I have without learning how to use a telephone to its fullest.”
”Well, you're a maestro,” Edward replied. ”And I've been wanting to thank you for the referral to Sylvie Talmadge and her daughter. I've put one of my people full-time on servicing them, and I checked in several times last week to rea.s.sure them that they have our undivided attention.”
”Perfect,” Samantha said. ”I knew you'd have them figured out in no time.”
”People are people,” he said smoothly. ”Everyone wants to feel cared for and important.”
”Yes.”
”Well, I appreciate your confidence in me and my business as well as the referral. I hope you'll let me know if there's ever anything I can offer in return.”
He didn't think there was a lot she didn't or couldn't have, but her eyes lit up.
”Do you mean that?” she asked.
”Yes, of course,” he replied. ”Is there something you need?”
She hesitated but only briefly. ”Would you consider interviewing my brother for a position in your company?”
He kept his features schooled to mask his surprise. ”Hunter?”
”Yes, he's really good in sales. We do know a lot of people who might appreciate your services. Perhaps he could serve as a sales representative as you continue to build Private Butler.”
”I don't really have a sales spot per se. I've done most of that and, of course, we rely largely on referrals and word of mouth.” He hesitated. ”I'm not sure I'd have anyone selling my company who hadn't worked in it.” He looked at her, weighing his words. ”If he were willing to learn the business from the ground up . . . spend some time as a concierge . . . it could turn into something more.”
”It could work,” she said carefully. ”a.s.suming you'd be willing to take him on. I . . .” She paused. ”I don't want to put you on the spot.”
Edward thought about the young man's sense of ent.i.tlement. The way he strutted through the building, expecting others to take care of his every need. ”Is he interested in this?”
”I don't know,” Samantha said. ”But I don't see why he wouldn't be. You have a real business and he'd have a chance to get in on the ground floor.”
”It's also hard work, and there's not much glory in it,” he said quietly. ”The customer is always, always right.” Once again he weighed his words. ”If you'll forgive me for saying so, I'm not certain he'll be happy taking orders instead of giving them.”
”You are an astute judge of character, Edward,” Samantha Davis said. ”I respect that about you. But he's looking for a job-or at least he's supposed to be. And his time is running out.”
”I'll be glad to introduce him to the business and give him some projects. I thought he was more of a financial person . . .”
Samantha frowned. ”That hasn't gone as well as it might. He needs a new direction. I'll speak to him and ask him to set up an appointment.”
”That would be fine,” Edward said, keeping his true thoughts to himself. But as he drank the gla.s.s of champagne that had gone quite warm in his hands, he found himself hoping that Hunter Jackson would turn his nose up at Private Butler. If ever he'd met a man that seemed ill suited for cheerfully serving others, it was Samantha Davis's brother.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?” HUNTER SNAPPED AT Samantha. She'd invited him out to lunch in hopes of avoiding an ugly confrontation, but her brother looked at her as if she'd just suggested he strip naked and stake himself out on an anthill.
She kept a smile on her face and her voice low. When the waiter looked as if he were headed their way to check on them, she shook her head slightly to discourage him. ”I want you to call Edward Parker and make an appointment to talk to him about opportunities at his company.”
”The man is a glorified servant,” he said nastily. ”And I don't care where he got his accent or the stick up his b.u.t.t. The answer is no.”
”No is not an option, Hunter.”
”It would be if you'd convinced Jonathan to save the nanotechnology deal.”
”Apparently there was nothing to save,” she said. ”Except your a.s.s. Which Jonathan has done for the very last time. It's a miracle he was able to satisfy the SEC and keep things out of the paper.”
”This is bulls.h.i.+t,” he said in what could only be called a snarl. But at least it was a low snarl.
”No,” Samantha said determined to stay on point. ”It's reality. Your reality.”
”You talked him into cutting me off.” Hunter picked up his highball gla.s.s and looked up and around for the waiter, who made a hopeful step toward the table. When Hunter looked down at his plate, she warned the waiter off with another small shake of her head. The man turned on a dime and headed back into the kitchen.
”It didn't take much talking,” she said to Hunter. ”And he's kept you out of jail. Which is more than you deserve.”
He looked at her with real hatred. ”Good G.o.d, what has happened to the service here? I don't even see our waiter.”
Samantha shrugged. The last thing this conversation needed was more alcohol.
”I'm not going to go out and try to sell some flaky concierge service,” Hunter snapped.
”Private Butler is a real business,” she said. ”And what you do for the company would be up to Edward Parker.”
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