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He discounted the most experienced after speaking to the man’s former employer. ‘Talented pastry chef with five years’ worth of managerial experience’ did not make up for ‘hot-headed and temperamental’. Hot-headed and temperamental were the last things this project needed. He needed a manager who would create a nurturing environment.
Nurturing and no-nonsense. Which immediately brought Neen Cuthbert to mind.
He thrust her out again and checked the references for his other shortlisted candidate. They were impeccable.
On impulse he seized Neen’s file and rang her referees too. Their testimonials were glowing. If he didn’t give her the job they’d take her back in an instant. ‘I want the experience.’
Rico chewed the end of his pen. He paced the length of his office. This job was too important for him not to get it right. He strode back to his desk and set Neen and the other applicant’s résumés side by side. Neen’s rival had a fraction more experience, but...
Why on earth was he dithering? Helen Clarkson was prepared to sign a two-year contract. Commitment!
He swept the applications up and shoved them back into his folder, then strode out into the outer office. ‘Lisle, can you phone Helen Clarkson and offer her the position? If she accepts she’ll—’
‘I just got off the phone to Helen. She’s accepted a position in Launceston.’
She’d what? What about all her talk of commitment?
Lies. All lies!
Neen hadn’t lied.
‘Fine!’ he snapped. ‘Offer the position to Neen Cuthbert. Tell her she’ll need to come in and sign the contract one day this week.’
‘Roger, Rico.’
He slammed back into his office. He had a mountain of paperwork to get through and grant acquittals to write. Not to mention grant applications. Securing funding for his projects was an ongoing challenge and not something with which he could afford to fall behind.
An hour later he threw down his pen. Too much of this bureaucratic red tape always set his teeth on edge. He strode to the door and flung it open. ‘Did you get onto Neen Cuthbert?’ he barked at Lisle.
‘She was delighted to accept.’
‘Excellent.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘She lives in Bellerive, doesn’t she?’
Lisle flicked through her files. He could have told her not to bother—he’d practically memorised Neen’s file down to the last detail.
Lisle held up the file. ‘Yes, she does.’
He took it. ‘I have a lunch appointment with the manager of Eastlands Shopping Centre.’ He was trying to convince the man—so far unsuccessfully—to sponsor a programme to provide traineeships for unemployed youth in the area. ‘While I’m on that side of the harbour I’ll drop the contract off to Ms Cuthbert.’
Lisle handed him a copy of the contract without a word. She’d grown accustomed to his bull-in-a-china-shop approach long ago. ‘You know Harley’s job is going to be advertised next week, don’t you? You should think about applying, Rico.’
‘I’m more use on the ground, Lisle.’
‘You’re wasting your talents.’
‘I’m happy where I am.’
He was making a difference. A real difference. And happiness didn’t come into it.
* * *
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Monty, give it a rest,’ Neen muttered under her breath. She reached over and ramped up the volume on the radio in the hope of drowning out the dog’s great booming bark.
She’d get complaints from the neighbours if this kept up, but...
Her hand tightened around the red pepper she’d started to dice. She just needed half an hour to get the worst of tonight’s dinner prepared and then she’d let him back inside. Without her full attention he’d wreck her apartment. Knowing she was inside, however, he was obviously intent on barking...and barking...and barking until she did.
She knew he was lonely. She knew he missed Audra. She knew he simply craved some company. Poor dumb dog. If he could be trusted just to sit at her feet and chew a bone...
