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“Then show me to a conference room and bring her to me.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Rogers. Right this way.”
She walks fast, glancing over her shoulder five times before she settles me in a conference room and scurries back out.
Five minutes later, Bethany comes in the room looking a little flustered but with a sincere smile on her face, and we shake hands.
“So, not only are you taking over my friend’s life, you’re taking over the company I work for, as well?”
I smile and close the door behind her. “Have a seat. Can I get you coffee or tea or anything?”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Shouldn’t I be the one offering to get you something?”
I shake my head. “No. That sort of hierarchy doesn’t exist in my companies.”
“Okay. So, I know we’re supposed to have a staff meeting in an hour. Is there something wrong?” She looks nervous and I answer quickly, making sure she knows everything is just fine.
“A couple things. First, would you be interested in the director’s position? From what I can tell, and from what a certain someone has told me, you’re doing all the work anyway.”
“Seriously? But I don’t have my degree, and the company said in order to have a senior management position, I had to have one.”
“New rules. The profit and loss on this location is the best in the chain. And, from what I can tell, you have everything to do with that. That’s the only degree I need. That said, if it’s something you’re interested in, we’d be happy to fund schooling and give you day release as necessary. So, yes or no? You interested or not?”
She nods, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She’s about six inches taller than my Emmy and has artistic floral tattoos down both arms. Her look combines the girl next door with an exotic edge.
At first, I wasn’t sure about letting her and Emmy out of my sight, but within a couple hours with Bethany, I knew I could trust her, and the ink was just that—ink.
“Yes,” she finally answers with tears in her eyes. “I know I can do the job. I won’t let you down.”
I nod. “I have every confidence in you. You deserve it. Now, let’s go to Carver’s office. I’m going to announce your new position to the staff at the meeting, but I want to poke around for a bit before. Get your opinion on a few things. You in?”
She grins. “Okay.”
With that, we’re on our feet making our way through the building toward the office where I found Carver with Emmy that morning, and already my angst is rising at the memory.
Workers crane their necks to look as me pass then quickly look away. There’s a nervousness in the air. Another new owner in a short span of time is unusual, but I’ll put their fears to rest shortly. First, I want to clear any bad vibes and memories from Carver’s office with Bethany.
“Here we are.” She opens the door and we both head inside, clicking the light on and closing the door behind us.
I look around, my gut tight being here again, but I keep my professional calm and point to the desk.
“Have a seat. Try it on for size. Picture yourself settled in, doing the job. Owning the position. When we talk to the staff, I want your mindset already accepting that you are the director.”
She bites into her bottom lip but makes her way around the desk and slowly lowers into the seat, placing her hands on top of the desk and looking around at the papers and mess left behind.
“Looks like you’ve got some work to do.”
She nods then tosses the Sports Illustrated and the food wrappers in the trash before her hands move to pick up papers, considering each one the setting them into orderly piles.
There’s a knock on the door, and I turn as it opens to reveal Connor standing there looking star struck. The look he’s giving her reminds me of how I look at Emmy and everything is starting to drop into place.
“Hey, brother, didn’t expect you this early.” He glances over at me, then back at Bethany.
“No, so I see. Checking out our new investment, Connor?”
“Something like that. What’s going on here?”
I turn to Bethany, her face is flushed. “Bethany is the new Director—assuming she still wants the job?”
She nods eagerly. “It feels good.” Her bright smile makes this move sweeter, and not just because she’s Emmy’s friend, but because my gut tells me she’s the right person for the job.
She shuffles a few more papers, then opens the desk drawers one at a time as I check my phone to see if Emmy has arrived at the old house. There’s no text yet, so either she stopped somewhere, or she’s forgotten the rules.
