“Burying Squire under a deeper loss margin isn’t going to convince me you’re ready to lead the company.”
“Trust me, when all is said and done, the numbers on your desk won’t be worse than they are now.”
“‘Trust me,’ he says. When his assurances aren’t that things will look significantly better, just that they won’t be worse, he expects me to put my faith in him.” His dad pulled the napkin out of his collar and threw it on the table. “This is your grandmother’s legacy we’re talking about, Julien. Don’t be so cavalier with it.”
“John,” his mom said in a cajoling tone, covering her husband’s arm with one of her small hands.
They had an unspoken conversation with their eyes, and then his dad let out a begrudgingly resigned puff of breath.
His mom turned to Julien, a Southern hospitality smile on her closed lips. “Invite Martha over to the house. We haven’t seen her in a month of Sundays, and it would be nice to catch up. See what she’s been up to all this time.”
Convince your father she’s an asset and give him one less thing to stress overwas one thing she didn’t say aloud. That Julien had any choice in the matter was the other.
5
“Tomiko, can you get Martha Aldridge on the phone for me, please?” Julien called to his assistant from the intercom in his office.
As much as he didn’t relish the idea of making Martha run the gauntlet that would be his father’s third degree, his mom had demanded he invite her over for a meal. He couldn’t put off such a summons. Running interference for her while she was in the lion’s den, however, he could and would do.
“Mr. King? I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to have any contact information for a Martha Aldridge.” Tomiko’s voice crackled over the phone speaker, full of regret and a pinch of worry. “Do you want me to dig around online and see if she’s listed anywhere?”
He’d really not had Martha give her information to his assistant before she left yesterday? That meant Tomiko didn’t have everything she’d need to make the reservations for Martha’s flight to the Children’s Book Creators Conference either, which needed to happen sooner rather than later if they were going to add her to the same flight on which he was already booked.
He pressed a button on his office phone. “No, I don’t want you to have to go through all that trouble.” Pivoting mentally,he made a quick decision. “Forward all my calls to my cell and reschedule my meeting this afternoon for tomorrow morning. I’m stepping out of the office, and I’m not quite sure when I’ll be back.”
“Yes, Mr. King.”
Julien grabbed his wallet and car keys from his desk drawer, then marched out of his office on a mission. A few of his employees greeted him as he made his way through the building, but most noted his purposeful gait and deduced he didn’t have the time to stop and chitchat at the moment.
The ways he and his father approached leadership in the workplace were on two different spectrums. While John King operated by a defined hierarchy of power in which he was the final word and those below him were paid to follow his directions, Julien believed productivity increased with employee satisfaction. Facilitating an open and friendly work environment where everyone felt valued, respected, and part of a team had proven to be successful for Julien. It went against his nature to brush by his coworkers without a smile or encouraging word.
Even so, he barreled forward out of the downtown commercial building and into the bright autumn morning sunshine. The locks on his Range Rover clicked with a press of the fob in his pocket, and Julien stepped around a pigeon more worried about abandoning the spilled Goldfish crackers on the sidewalk than about any human walking by. The leaves at the top of the sweetgum tree his car was parked under were just beginning to transform in color. In a few more weeks, the branches would be an ombre of reds and golds.
After climbing behind the wheel, he typedLittle Creek Libraryinto the onboard navigation system, then turned his vehicle east for the hour-and-fifteen-minute drive. The city skyline grew fainter in his rearview mirror the farther he drove until he was surrounded completely by the landscape of theCherokee National Forest. He could’ve stepped into the pages of a fantasy book, where dryads roamed among the forest’s pines and fairies hid under the fronds of the green ferns growing in the underbrush.
It had been too long since Julien had taken advantage of the expanse of nature at his fingertips. His mom had been right. In his effort to prove himself and convince his father of his capabilities, he was becoming more and more like the man. An unhealthy work-life balance that leaned much too heavily to one side. Once he earned the CEO position, once his father was no longer putting himself at risk by coming to the office every day, Julien could slow down as well. Maybe he could even talk his dad into a day of hiking to Benton Falls. The trail wasn’t too long or rigorous, and spending time in nature would benefit them both physically and mentally.
Julien turned off the main road that would lead into North Carolina if he kept going. After a few more miles, a wooden sign welcomed him to Little Creek. He slowed down to the posted speed limit as small businesses began to dot the side of the road.
“Your destination is on the right,” the GPS’s computerized voice announced.
The woods ended in an open green space of a town park, a picturesque white gazebo standing in the center of the square. Julien could imagine outdoor folk concerts and town-led Easter egg hunts happening within the perimeter of this park. It was idyllic and clichéd and a reminder of homegrown roots and wholesomeness. A quintessential small-town centerpiece.
On the other side of the park stood the library. Julien pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. Instead of stepping immediately out of his vehicle, he took a moment to examine the building. A blue tarp covered most of the roof, screaming the library’s need for a quick replacement. Normally they probably would’ve received a grant to help cover the cost ofrepairs, but there had been an unusual number of weather-related disasters that year. The state’s budget was more than likely depleted by the amount of aid they’d had to give.
He got out of his car and walked to the entrance. The automatic doors opened for him, and he stepped inside to the familiar floorplan of so many public libraries. A semicircle circulation desk sat in front of him, a welcoming librarian waiting to assist. To the side was a bank of computers, and beyond those, the multimedia section housing the library’s selection of DVDs, music, and audiobooks. On the opposite side, a bright mural of children reading under an oak tree was painted along the wall. On hip-height shelves were board books and picture books, behind those were higher shelves with early readers, chapter books, middle-grade selections, and finally books appropriate for young adults. The children’s section. Martha’s domain.
Julien’s gaze scanned the area, but he didn’t see Martha anywhere.
“Can I help you?” A bald woman with a head tattoo and an employee ID hanging from a lanyard around her neck stepped in front of him.
Julien glanced down at her ID.Evangeline Kelly.
“Hello, Ms. Kelly. I’m looking for Martha. Is she by chance working today?”
He thought his question had been straightforward, but the woman peered up at him as if he’d just spouted off a riddle. In a foreign language.
“You’re here to see Martha?”
