AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But I’d barely gotten to the base of the stairs when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Thatcher?” Layla said too softly. “If I can help, I?—”
I paused without turning. “I don’t need your help, thank you.”
She rushed toward me. “I can see that you’re unhappy I sent Reagan to Wisconsin, but I really had no choice. Cath Woodall with ImagineTex has been frantically texting me all afternoon, demanding that we make an appearance at the Textile Tech Trends event. I didn’t think it prudent to risk negative publicity right now, and Reagan was the only available person?—”
I hadn’t planned to have this out until we got back to the city, but I couldn’t help turning and saying, “Not true. You could have gone yourself.”
“Me? But…” Layla’s smile faded, and she smoothed back her auburn hair into its tidy bun. “I couldn’t go. I’m the head of PennCo. And you need me here.”
“I’m the head of Pennington Industries and all of its subsidiaries, but when you told me that we needed to do an in-person publicity tour, you knew I’d agree and find a way to balance it by relying more heavily on my other team members temporarily, right? Because that’s what leaders do. Reagan and I have handled the tour just fine with the PR team’s support.” I cocked my head. “Did I not make it clear that I wanted Reagan to remain on the tour, even before I explicitly said that Reagan was to have time with his family this week?”
“I… I didn’t think that applied to… He was happy to go, Thatcher. Reagan understands his place in the pecking order,” she said firmly.
“Actually, I don’t think either of you understand it,” I said frankly. “Reagan is incredibly talented, and I told you that I expect him to be mentored for a much higher position. Otherwise, we’ll lose him to a competitor, especially now that he won’t be working on his father’s campaign. If your responsibilities as vice president make it difficult for you to see where we could be promoting employees from within, then I think we need to discuss adding some levels of hierarchy to PennCo.”
Layla gaped. “But things run perfectly fine as they are. Haven’t you been pleased with our profitability? In the past, you’ve said?—”
“I know what I said,” I interrupted. “I’ve wanted you to run your division your own way without micromanagement as long as you got good results. But good results mean more than turning a profit, Layla. It also means maximizing our employees’ talents and making sure they’re satisfied.” I shrugged. “Just think about it. We’ll discuss it later.” I turned back toward the stairs.
“I… I did hire someone, actually!” she called.
I turned again. “Oh?”
Layla licked her lips. “Yes. Just today, I hired a social media manager. After talking with you and Reagan and seeing your excitement about my plan, I realized I needed to speed up my timeline for launch. A friend recommended Greta, so I contacted her this morning and had a wonderful interview. She’s starting Monday. I asked HR to send her a contract just this afternoon.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “You hired a social media manager from outside the company when you already have someone on staff with social media management experience who knows about our products and is eager to step into a larger role? Why wouldn’t you promote Reagan to that position?”
Her eyes widened at my tone, which I hadn’t bothered to modulate. “I made this decision based on the needs of the company. Greta has years of additional experience, but she’s also very grounded. PennCo wouldn’t merely be a stepping stone on the way to a better job, and you heard what Patricia said—that’s exactly what Reagan thought it was. Plus, Greta will fit perfectly in our corporate culture?—”
“Meaning Reagan doesn’t? I highly doubt that. And have you asked Reagan whether he views PennCo as a stepping stone? Perhaps if he’d seen an opportunity for such a role at PennCo, he wouldn’t have tried to get the position with his father’s campaign.”
Layla opened her mouth and shut it again. “Thatcher, I know you’re fond of Reagan, but…” She broke off with a little head shake and stepped closer to lay a hand on my arm. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have brought this up when you’re already so agitated. Just take care of yourself and your loved ones right now, and we’ll talk about personnel concerns when we’re back in the city.” She smiled at me from under her lashes. “In the meantime, trust me to take care of PennCo for you, okay? Your priorities are my priorities.” Her hand rubbed my arm through my sleeve, and for the first time, I saw her meaningless touches as something more.
I jerked away. Layla and I would definitely be discussing many things, and soon, because I wasn’t sure I did trust her—not the way I once had and never in the instinctive way I’d always trusted Reagan—and PennCo was so far from being my priority, I would have happily traded it off in exchange for a rocket-powered car that could get me to Madison by morning.
“Thanks,” I said shortly. Then I jogged up the stairs.
I found Brantleigh sitting on the side of the bed in my room, red-rimmed eyes fixed on the floor. I could tell at a glance that he was trying to convince himself he was capable of standing and that it wasn’t going well. When I looked at him, I remembered the little boy he’d once been: the way he laughed with his whole body, the way he’d trusted me completely. But that boy and his smiles were gone, and in their place was a grown man.
I closed the door with a click, and his eyes shot up before he remembered why he shouldn’t make any sudden movements. He winced but tried to hide it.
“Come to yell at me and list my failings?” he said in a bored voice. “Don’t bother. Mom said she got the story from you, and she already lectured me via text.” He shot the phone by his leg a glare. “She expressed her profound disappointment from three thousand miles away. Isn’t technology wonderful?”
“I didn’t come to lecture,” I said, surprised to find I meant it. I wasn’t angry at Brant anymore. “And you’re not a failure.”
He snorted.
“You’re not. You just haven’t had a chance to succeed.” I pulled out the antique desk chair and straddled it, resting my forearms on the upper rail, my eyes never leaving my son’s pale face.
Brant sighed. “Is this some kind of psychobabble? Did you read a new book? Find a new expert to fix me? Because you’d be better off fixing your fucking HR people. Do you have any idea what they thought a decent starting salary for my position would be?”
“I didn’t come here to talk about that either—though I think we both know that after what you pulled today, you’re no longer employed at Pennington,” I said easily.
He narrowed his bleary eyes. “Figures.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to say to you when I came up here,” I went on. “You nearly started a fight with Reagan today?—”
