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Maybe they wouldn't make a deal. Maybe they'd been ducking her calls on purpose. They hear a female voice on the other end of the line, maybe they assume that they're just getting a call from some secretary.
Then again, she'd made herself very clear. There wasn't any disrespect going on. She was giving the entire case her full attention. Now if only they would at least think about listening to her proposal, she might be able to get everyone some money.
Morgan takes a deep breath. If she can't reach them on the phone, then there's only one answer. It's dangerous to leave her seat, though. If she leaves, it's like she's abdicating the throne.
Brad—and if not Brad, then Pete or Jake or any one of those boys outside—will pull some 'cat's away, mice will play' shit and by the time she gets back, they'll all be worked up that she ain't in charge any more.
The choice isn't a hard one, of course. She knows what needs doing, and what needs doing is that she has to go out to the Callahan ranch. Like it or not, that's the r
eality.
They may not respect her for any number of reasons. She knows of two, and they're visible when she looks down, pressing her shirt out in two pleasant-looking bumps. But there may be others that she's less aware of.
The one thing they're going to have to respect is when she tells them that the guy who was never gonna sell, Phil Callahan, had just talked to her, when he'd never been willing to talk to her father.
If she could come back with a hand-shake and a deal? She may as well be the damn messiah of Lowe Industrial. They'll have to respect her, then.
She pushes herself out of the chair and takes a deep breath. If it's a risk—and she can't think it's not—to leave the boys alone, it's one that will pay off in the end.
Because she won't ever be able to reach Callahan by phone. Her father had tried for six months, until he'd gotten sick. Now she'd been trying for a month and a half, and it wasn't getting anywhere.
The phones there obviously didn't work, and if they did, then they obviously weren't answering them. So what do you do when the phone is out?
You go there in person, you put on a polite-but-firm smile, and you make damn sure that you don't leave without either cutting a deal or getting thrown out on your ass.
Morgan opens the door.
"Oh, hey, boss." Brad's got his feet up. He's supposed to be out, watching the crews, or at least making sure the property's staying on track.
"What are you doing inside?" She tries to make herself sound intimidating, but she just sounds throaty and hoarse, like she's been smoking for most of her life. She has to cough at the end, because of the phlegm that built up as she did it.
If she's just going to sound like it either way, what was the point of avoiding cigarettes all these years?
"Well, I figured—"
"You figured, what? I won't come and check on you?"
Brad's jaw cocks off to the side the way it does when he's pissed off. Frankly, though, Morgan doesn't give a god damn if he's pissed off, if he's not going to do his job.
"And what do you think, exactly, makes you the expert on this?"
"You want to keep your job, Brad?"
"Sure, but tell me first. What makes you so damn smart, what makes you so damn special? You think, just cause you're a woman, I ain't gonna stand up to you? That it? Or because your daddy built a company for you to inherit, that makes you some kinda expert on crew management?"
Morgan's teeth grind together. She should fire him. But will that help? Or will it make her look weak? Maybe it makes her look like she's backing down to let him say that sort of shit. Or maybe, firing him makes it seem like she can't handle what he's got to say.
Damned if you do and damned if you don't—she'd rather go with 'don't' until she's got a better option.
"Get out there, and get to work." She bores holes in him with her eyes. "I want those grounds inspected. Crew three and four are mostly new guys, I want you there making sure that they're doing solid work."
He looks like he's got something to say, but Morgan's expression doesn't leave any room for being questioned.
"Yes, sir," he says. He says it in a way that tells Morgan that he neither thinks of her as 'sir' nor as someone who he particularly has to be polite or respectful towards.
She lets out a breath as he goes out the door. He could be a good worker. He could handle most of it. The problem is, he thinks he's sitting at her desk, making her decisions and doing her job for her.
Well, he isn't. He's crew manager, and that's not the same thing as "owner." Not even in a large company like this one. Not even when the new plant has yet to open and she technically still has overseeing to do back down in Nevada and Colorado.
